Ideas of Sin

by Cooper, R.

  Did James think he was a woman, to be handled in this way? René opened his eyes wide and arched away, trying to push himself free. The act only created more points of contact, heat radiating from James like the sun. René shook to feel it, wanting to stretch until all of him was basking in each touch. Just imagining them both naked together was better than any of his fantasies on the ship, and he felt all the blood in his body pool and throb between his legs, stiffening his prick. But his body shook and he twisted, not wanting to be held like this. James immediately sighed into his throat at his movements, his wandering hands gentling.

  James still trembled, his heart pounding more than even René’s was at that moment, thundering against his chest. They were so close together, René could feel it, knew James could feel his. It still did not seem to be enough for him, the hand at his back pressed persistently until the hardness of James’ arousal was firm on his thigh and James shuddered against him.

  His golden hair slipped, falling into René’s face as James moved his head back and forth, sweeping René’s neck and shoulder with soft kisses even as the traces of his beard burned. Too many strands to count, each like silk, and René opened his mouth to breathe at last, feeling tangled blond threads fall between his lips.

  “René.” James’ voice with a rough edge as he fought to keep them both from falling, sinking into René’s chest as René tasted his hair, sliding it over his tongue. “Do you understand?” His strong hands tightened their grip, and in answer René tightened his, sliding his hand from James’ shoulder to his back, moving up his other into the small space between them to find one taut nipple. One stroke of a fingertip and James seemed to momentarily forget his words, gasping and then sucking fiercely on the skin beneath his mouth.

  “Be quiet, James,” René ordered hoarsely, or tried to, the words indistinct from one another, his mouth suddenly dry. He had only intended to silence James, had known that James lost control at the slightest bit of pain. Shifting, he tried to steer them toward the wall, pushing his groin at James aggressively, liking it when this made James moan into him. But James’ body would not move, strangely firm on his feet when René felt his own legs weaken. Fighting it, he pinched the nipple between his fingers and was rewarded by James raising his head to stare into his eyes.

  “I am telling you that I take pleasure in it,” he panted, sounding a trifle angered. At the same time his lips were wet and dark, his cock pulsing against René’s leg, inches from his own aching need. Furious and wanting at the same time, René arched his back once more, pressing himself close to crush his hand to James’ chest as he twisted his nipple, anything to silence him and let René have his way. James snapped his mouth shut on a cry of pain and flung his head back, giving René access to his throat.

  He caressed the collarbone first, with his lips and tongue, and then handled James’ nipple roughly, pinching and stroking until meaningless murmurs were all that escaped James’ mouth. His own body throbbed and filled with heat just watching the muscles of James’ strong throat work to suppress his cries, his struggle to breathe normally. His mind was spinning.James wanted this, it sang through his veins faster than lust, twice as sharp. James was not that drunk; the cock grinding against his was hard and ready as it had not been for that woman.

  James would be his. James would beg for it, and René would give it to him, slow and steady until he whimpered, somewhere else, not here in the dirt. First a quick moment of pleasure here and then a room, anywhere would do, as long as there was a bed where he could strip James from his breeches and plunge inside until James’ body was dripping with sweat and his seed. His hips jerked up at the remembered feel of James wrapped around his prick and his body brushed against the hard thighs around him. He exclaimed roughly at the bolt of sensation, but it was nothing to the tortured groan that came from James.

  A moment later he was laughing silently into James’ chest despite the discomfort and pain of being so unsatisfied, and working his hand down the narrow space between them. It skimmed along James’ waist and René enjoyed how the muscles there tensed and rippled under his touch, soft fur tickling his palms just as he had remembered. Oh yes, James was to be his one last time. His thoughts swirled dizzily, and he closed his eyes.

  Rough hands found his chest, exploring hastily, only a trace of the old gentleness in James now. Even through René’s shirt his nipples ached as James circled his fingertips curiously over the sensitive areas, rubbing the soiled linen over tight points, softly at first and then with more assurance.

  It was René’s turn to gasp, jerking away from the sharp jabs tingling through him at each touch, lancing to his balls. “No,” he managed, grabbing at any part of James that would have the other man moaning, but James’ thick fingers only moved on, everywhere at the same time, and then all at once in only one place, slipping beneath his sash, loosening it to get to his breeches.

  His bare skin hungered, and when James’ hands first skated across his stomach he shivered violently. If James wished to touch his cock again he would not deny him; James could please him until René had had enough. Lust tore another groan from him at the thought and he had to move.

  Reaching, he grabbed the flesh of James’ ass, hauling their lower bodies closer then rearing back with pleasure when James spread his legs, fitting René’s rigid prick between his thighs where it was more than warm, blissfully hot and delicious. He wanted to have his mouth there, to taste the salty, musky skin before he fucked James senseless.

  It was the fabric burning him now, rougher and harder than the stubble across James’ jaw, keeping him from what he wanted. His mouth was empty, and he filled it with words until he could wrap his lips around James’ cock and drain his strong body dry. He knew he was talking, his words a constant sound like his own heart beating, but he could not tell what he was saying. Encouragement to James, to the hands on his hips, commands for more, demands for James to beg, and then finally, when James’ fingers pressed against his shaft and made him scream, an order.

  “Get against the wall.” It was more of a growl than human speech and René panted with the effort of even that, trying to hide his desperation. Silence answered him, and René blinked, startled into a soft whine when James drew away from him. It was only a handsbreath, but he still shivered with it, reminded of his disheveled clothing, his undoubtedly foolish appearance, his throbbing cock. His heart thrummed frantically when James turned serious eyes on him and shook his head.

  “I…” he started to say, his stammer returning when René shoved furiously against his stomach. He had no sympathy for James and his cowardice. He may have begun this, but René would end it.

  René’s fingers merely touched the tip of one peaked nipple and James jumped forward again, lifting his back to press himself into his hands. The soft mouth fell open, lower lip protruding temptingly.

  “No, René, I…” He tried to speak once more and slapped away René’s hands, scowling sternly. He did not seem to see René’s growing temper at his refusal to be quiet, or perhaps he dared to ignore it. “I ought to give it too.” He stopped abruptly there, his cheeks darkening. René knew his eyes widened in confusion but had little time to contemplate James’ meaning before James had nodded once and dropped to his knees onto the dirt, the jar of his bones on the ground enough to make him wince. “P…pleasure, I mean,” he finished quietly, his voice full of tremors.

  It was impossible not to stare. James Fitzroy was on his knees in the filth much as he had been kneeling beside his dying lord, gazing up without hatred in his eyes. His face was turned up in question, his lips still parted, hair falling around him in gentle shining waves. He was what an angel should be. René’s eyes dried painfully before he remembered to blink, and then he was stepping back, nearly slipping when the ground no longer seemed to be beneath his feet. Long arms reached out, grabbing his hips and fistfuls of linen, keeping him from falling.

  He frowned down at James, trying to understand why the other man should do this, and
then swallowed air in a painful gulp as James slid a hand over the loose material of his breeches to find the placket at the front. His hands were shaking, trembling; René could feel it through the linen, and when they finally traced the outline of his cock he could not stop himself from thrusting forward.

  “James.” A silly thing to say, in an equally ridiculous quavering virgin’s voice, for James looked nowhere but at him even as his hands worked between his legs, finding the head of his cock with a strange familiarity. His fingers stroked it like a man stroked coveted velvet until René grunted with the effort to hold his sounds of pleasure back. A tease, an English jest it must be, yet James looked to be in earnest, brows drawn in concentration and anxiety as he explored, rimming the head through the cloth, making René choke at the desire shoving his body forward, bowing his spine painfully.

  He had taught him this, René remembered at last, faintly, taught James to be his good pet. Warm, sweating palms had circled his prick and squeezed, nearly as tight as James’ sweet flesh, and then he had stroked, up and then down, harder and faster, unaware of how René had studied his face and burned for his eyes to raise.

  He could not breathe, and jumped at the abrupt sound of James talking, hot breath streaming over his trapped prick, sending violent shivers over his skin. “I have dreamt of this.” James startled him with the words, ceasing to move his hands. Their pressure remained at his cock, and René felt himself twitch at the wet prison that his breeches had become where his fluids had stained the linen. James had to feel it, for his fingers tightened against his shaft, curling possessively around the head.

  Shock speeded his heart, mingling with the arousal tingling through his body. He could remember James with his eyes closed, stretched out like a large cat, cheeks flushed with the fever of his thoughts.

  “I thought you dreamed of women?” René welcomed the anger that rushed through him, biting out his words. James had not dreamed of this, and his blush proved it a lie. René’s fantasies were the truth, when he had pleased himself in the long hours of night, the days when he could not sleep. He had even imagined this, to his shame, James on his knees with his handsome face only inches away from his weeping cock, James beneath him.

  René’s breath caught in his throat and he was tricked into looking down again at the hoarse exclamation from James. “No, th…there is only you,” James confided lowly, moaning at the end, the same little lost sound as before. It echoed through René’s prick to his belly, coiling sharply, making it difficult for him not to push himself forward. James’ eyes remained open wide, the feeling in them so clear that René could not breathe to see it. He tried to move back instead, but once more James’ hands would not allow him to leave, burning on his hips.

  His eyes were still so wide, steady and unblinking, and René could not escape them. He looked so young, more innocent than he had ever been. He begged, begged when James did not belong on his knees.

  “Why…” René stopped, panting for air, unhappy to realize that now he was the one stumbling for words and asking that damned question. “Why do you look at me like this?” He strengthened his voice to demand it and placed his hands on those that were touching him. A soft sigh was his answer and the golden head moved, as swiftly as it had before.

  “James!” The cry left his throat raw, and he grabbed desperately at the hands under his, but there was no displacing them, and he was forced to suffer the exquisite torture of James’ mouth pressed to his prick, his heat all the worse for the layer of cloth separating them.

  Despite his strong hands James was cautious, opening his lips to push his tongue against him and then closing them to place shy little kisses over his pulsing length, nuzzling with feathery exclamations of contentment. Then he spoke, the words muffled and meaningless against his breeches, but carrying through René’s body with a low hum, singing up his spine. Even in this James would not be silent. It should have been amusing; instead dots of sweat broke over René’s skin and he found himself crying for James to speak more, thrusting toward his mouth mindlessly.

  Saint Denis, René could not believe his own senses, and shook his head back and forth, drowning in the pleasure of only a few touches. Up and down slowly, James seemed intent on kissing all of him over and over again, and every press of lips shot straight to René’s balls like lightening. He grunted at only that but it was not enough, and another bestial sound broke from him. Aching, René squeezed James’s hands and tried to pry his fingers from his breeches. But James complained into his thighs and tore his hands free, using his fingers to nimbly undo the few buttons there and open wide the placket in only the space of a heartbeat.

  His stubbornness had led him to do this; René cursed it loudly as the night air played upon his heated skin. But he could not move, frozen once more at the sight of the man before him.

  James’ moment of courage seemed to have left him; he was tense, biting his lip uncertainly until it looked ready to bleed. It harmed the sweet mouth that was only a finger length from the head of René’s cock, and Rene narrowed his eyes and fought to regain control of himself.

  His hands curled in the air, stiffening into claws at the pain knifing through him. Like all pain it would pass in a moment, or he would grow used to it, there was nothing to do but wait. Closing his eyes, he shifted, taking advantage of James’ stillness to start to move away. One step and he was halted by a pressure at his back. He blinked in confusion and then he was pushed forward until an exquisitely soft heat swallowed the head of his prick. Disbelief was stronger than the pleasure arcing through him, and he opened his eyes to stare blankly at the pure, red mouth closed tight around his prick, and the handsome face above it, stained with colour. So serious and intent James looked, as he slid his tongue around René’s tingling flesh, the velvet tip of his tongue seeking to drive him insane.

  He was insane, for he could not move, not even to push forward. His mind was frozen with pleasure while his body burned with it, and he longed to sink into that wet mouth until he could feel James’ breath stir the hair on his balls. Surely he would not allow it.

  Already James was frowning. But his lips tightened almost at the same instant that René realized this, and then he used his tongue to suck fiercely on the head of René’s prick, so hard that René’s legs nearly gave way and he reached out drunkenly so as not to fall. One hand slammed back into the wall though he did not care to stop and think how he had ended with the wall at his back. The other tore into blond hair and held it at the root, so close it had to be agony for James. He wanted to let go and found he could not, his fingers sliding through honeyed locks but holding tight to his treasure.

  He was thrusting, trying to push more of himself into that mouth, and cursing when he could not. Not yet, for James still explored, pausing in his torment to lave the underside with attention and push with his tongue at his foreskin, ignoring how Rene swore aloud and gasped, and then returning to draw eagerly from him after only a few moments. If it was James’ intent to drain his soul from his body, he was succeeding. His strength was fading, and liquid heat seemed to flow through his veins, twisting tightly in his belly, pushing him forward. He could not have enough of James; even balls deep would not be enough.

  James’ breath came fast and loud through his nose and René shuddered against the wall with the effort to slow himself, to let James breathe. But when he paused in his thrusts the hands at his back dropped to his ass and squeezed demandingly, pushing him back to where he had been. He gasped at the ecstasy of returning, but it was not enough, only an inch of his prick inside those tight lips. He locked his jaw but it could not stop his aching moan for more.

  James seemed to hear him, relaxing his lips and then easing more of René into his mouth with another long sigh. The head of his cock hit the back of his mouth and the frantic workings of the muscles there against René’s heated cock had him pushing from the wall and calling out his name. It did not matter who was listening.

  “More … please!” he commanded
roughly in French, wrapping his other hand in the length of James’ beautiful hair and straining. Obediently, James pulled him closer, and René could feel his quick, excited breaths on his shaft and the way the hands on his ass tightened their grip anxiously. Inhaling sharply, René loosened his hold on James’ hair the slightest degree and then applied pressure to push James back. Before James could misunderstand, René pulled him forward, letting out a sigh of his own at the wet friction of lips and tongue, the shocking light scrape of teeth when there should not have been. The sigh quickly rose in his throat, changing to more of a scream with each pass of his mouth, at the silken wonder of his throat.

  James’ whole body twitched with apparent understanding and then he was moving on his own, swollen, red lips closing around his cock to suck forcefully on the head and then loosening to swallow most of him, the soft movements of his tongue nearly René’s undoing. He shuddered uncontrollably, distantly aware that he was whimpering with need.

  Over and over they moved until René no longer had to guide him, and the hands trapped in James’ hair were there to keep him standing. They clutched and relaxed with equal force, digging into the other man’s scalp when the pressure below René’s spine heightened, and his entire body seemed to scream for release.

  James should spend his life on his knees, René thought feverishly as a clumsy hand wrapped around the root of his prick and squeezed curiously, and knew he had no goodness in him. He twitched, then slid his tongue along his dry lips and panted for air, working for the courage to look upon James once more. He glanced down again, blinking to see that James looked up at him over the rim of his spectacles. James’ eyes were burning, shining up to him with their innocent delight as he took his cock even further into his mouth.