Ideas of Sin

by Cooper, R.

  “I know.” He bared his teeth and then lifted his eyes Heavenward in surprise at the barest touch of a hand across the crown of his head. Villon was already withdrawing his hand, though too late to keep James from flinching from it and meeting his black gaze with wide eyes, twisting his head around until it was painful. He could not breathe and saw the same panic filling René’s face before he turned away from it. James pressed his back hard into the wall, wishing it were harder, sucking breaths between his teeth so hard that they whistled.

  “Might it be that I will die when you attack your ship, and then I will be here no longer.” It was the weariness the day had left in him that had made him speak so, and he trembled, wanting to hide his hands beneath his body like a frightened child.

  “ Non!” James only continued to shake at the forceful word from René, unable to control himself, and he did not lift his hands when slender fingers curved around his throat and urged him to turn back his head. The fingers squeezed, losing their gentleness for one moment and creating specks of light in James’ mind and a throbbing in the rest of his body, and then James opened his eyes, surprised to see fury in the face he had expected to be either pleased or calm and cold.

  The pressure at his throat eased, though René’s hand remained for a bit longer, two fingers lingering at the frantic beating of his veins before he slid them down to James’ collarbone and then away.

  James did not move, barely blinking even to wet his eyes as René’s fingers caressed the skin over the hard line of bone for the smallest moment. They were warm now, not frozen as they had been earlier, but James shivered, never once looking away from René’s black eyes. Vaguely, he could see the bright lips fall open, and hear René’s shuddering sigh, but the skin of his chest burned already from the sight of René watching his hand as it touched him and that sense alone controlled him.

  His shirt ought to have been a hindrance, but he could feel a dry, shaking palm sliding underneath the cloth, curving awkwardly across his breast and finding his heart. René sighed once more, as though the strong beat were music.

  He wanted him again then, and James wondered which it was to be, a hand reaching around his body to tease him, or a cold thrust of fingers, as there had been that morning. The back of his head bumped softly on the wooden wall behind him, and James realized that he must have leaned backward. He swallowed, but did not shift to his former position, wondering if his heart felt like thunder only to himself, or if René heard it as well. The organ skipped a beat suddenly, thudding madly against his ribs as René glanced a touch to his nipple, peaking the skin with the memory of other touches, of René’s mouth, bare and wet and hot, and his teeth, so sweetly sharp. That too, had hurt, but the memory did not make James tremble, and he savored it as the sweat dotted across his upper lip, making it taste of rough salt.

  To his distress, René’s hand did not pause there, and James expelled what would have been a cry if he had not held most of it back. He did not think that he had moved, but it seemed that he had, for René tore his eyes from the sight of his softly wandering hand to look into his face, the lashes of his eyes suddenly seeming longer than a pretty, flirting housemaid’s as he peered through them.

  “Do not move,” he murmured simply, as though it was nothing what he asked, and James wondered if perhaps he was flirting as though hewere a maid, and James were some cook he thought had a well-shaped leg.

  His strange resistance of earlier must already been leaving him, for James obeyed the order, staring without break into gleaming eyes as René withdrew his hand and moved to stand in front of him, only to fall to his knees with a grace that a sick man ought not to have possessed. If James had not seen with his own eyes the proof that he was real, he might have believed René to be a specter.

  Between his legs, Villon’s heat was a too familiar thing, but still James would not move to allow the man more room, grunting softly as his inner thighs pressed against the man’s body. He remembered last night as he felt the stroke of René between his legs, remembered being squeezed and crushed between those thighs, and longing to press himself into them so far that he would never have to leave them. He had strained to do just that in his heat, squeezing the flesh of René’s arse in return and handling him with a roughness that would have shamed a doxy.

  But René had not been shamed. James knew his lips parted, a silent whisper of amazement that René had tore at him to pull him closer and the blood had surged beneath his skin so fiercely that he had stamped René’s mouth with his own and tasted his groans as he had come off, jerking at the hot flood between them, twitching in exquisite pain.

  His body jerked once more at the memory, startling him into the present, but he had no chance to pull away and deny the motion, René shifted nearer to him, insinuating himself further into his lap, never once even breaking his intent watch.

  James recalled his opened mouth at last and firmed his lips, running his tongue along his closed teeth as he stared back, searching for any tastes that might remain though his teeth and tongue were dry.

  Swallowing wet them both, but offered him only the salt of spittle, and black eyes focused on his throat for the tiny moment, circling back up to his face like a bird in the air. René slid an eager touch up the outside of one leg to his hip, teasing at the edge of his shirt, and James half-jumped, twitching up from the floor. The other hand rubbed across his stomach, pushing slowly but firmly with the heel over the tight muscles, up and down until the knots wanted to loosen, in his eyes no doubt an order for James to stay where he was, as though James were not already trying to keep himself still.

  James sought Villon’s gaze and found him frowning just as he had feared, and he could feel his belly knot even tighter and the sickness there rise to his throat, preventing him from speaking. René took the hand from his hip only to place it next to the other at his stomach, spreading his fingers out wide and clutching briefly at the flat surface as if testing James’ response to his touch. Then tips of fingers stroked upward, raising the small thatch of hair, bringing bumps to James’ skin and tightening the muscles beneath the flesh in a thousand shivers.

  When James said nothing, only allowed those fingers to play with his skin, René pushed out with both hands, sliding his palms up from James’ stomach to the lines of his ribs, taking his shirt up with them, and James felt the tickling glide of the material as his stomach and part of his chest were bared for René to view. Surely that was René’s intent, for he paused and slid each hand back down to the bones of James’ hips and bent his head, ending his peering study of his face only to study his body.

  His silence left James there, still partially arched from the floor and needing to move, but it did not last, granting James a surprised reprieve when René expelled a hot breath and curved over him to press his mouth to the small spot of smooth skin between his ribs. James moaned shakily, then heard it change into a gasp as René’s lips opened and his skin was licked with a rasping tongue.

  The echoing little sound brought René’s dark head up, and his eyes narrowed to the sight of James panting for breath, not seeming to notice how his own lips were parted. He raised one arm, and James lifted his head just as a hand slid up his neck. He froze, startled, swallowing carefully as it pressed briefly over the throbbing veins at the side and continued up to caress his face. A caress like the touch of velvet, nothing cold in it as a palm cupped his chin and then slid up his jaw toward his ear. James knew his face should have been shadowed and raw by now, for he had not shaved, but René seemed not to notice, running his thumb back and forth across his cheek in time to some rhythm James could not hear.

  Back and forth, just that, and slowly, soothing and rough as René’s tongue had been on his chest, and James blinked as neither hand seemed to ready to do more than stroke soft circles over his skin. He parted his lips anew, still half-expectant, and froze as René’s eyes locked to his mouth, and his pale cheeks grew fiery with colour.

  René fanned his fingers out over James’
mouth, holding there for a long moment, letting James’ breath rush over each until James could feel the hot moisture gather on his lips. He wanted to move, but forgot the notion quickly, for René leaned further over him and his body twitched as René’s cock pressed hard up between his legs and his mouth edged into his vision.

  “Wha…?” He could not stop himself from trying to ask, not even finishing the one word as René slid two fingers across his lips and into his mouth. They found his tongue, and James tasted salt and dirt before he pulled his tongue away, swallowing each flavour as it trickled down his throat. There was only that moment of resistance, and then he felt his tongue darting back to surround the invading fingers, moaning to himself when René pushed his fingers in far as they would go and choked on a word that almost had almost the sound of his name.

  Tension gathered knife-sharp in his middle, and James shifted, pressing up the slightest bit against the hand still rubbing over his tense muscles, surprised to realize that it was still there, that it still stroked him firmly over the very spot where the feeling seemed to tear at him the strongest. Lifting himself from the floor pushed him against that hand, and he could feel the warmth of it through to his spine, heating the flesh of his belly and down to where the hand had not yet gone.

  Shivering, he closed his lips to suckle curiously on the tips of René’s fingers, wondering if the sight or the feel of him was what made René’s eyes so hot they seemed to melt James where they touched him. Rewarding him, even more than the gentle pressure of his other hand at his middle, creeping upward now toward his heart.

  “I told you to leave,” René reminded him quietly, as though James had forgotten, and James drew hard on the fingers in his mouth, enveloping them with his ready tongue, making René swallow a moan. There was no purpose in acknowledging such a remark, and yet James did, nodding once with care as he savoured every last measure of taste from René’s skin. His response did not please René, James sensed it moments before the scowl marred René’s features and then he was left with only the taste of tears on his tongue as René withdrew his fingers.

  James blinked, his body growing stiff once more as René leaned closer and fierce eyes held him to the spot. René parted his lips as though to speak, and then shook his head and let fall his eyelids, and James gasped his surprise at the sudden touch of those lips to his own.

  They were as soft as he had remembered and more so, sweet and salted as René pressed the kiss to him at a strangely crooked angle, only just keeping their noses from smashing against one another.

  He could feel René’s breath, just barely taste him at the edges of his mouth, and felt his own eyes fall closed as the fire swept gently through him. René’s lips were closed, but his own were still parted, and he waited, extending his tongue to seek the taste of René’s passions, inhaling the scent of the ocean and wine and, faintly, the lingering traces of blood. His hands came up from his sides to wrap around the tangles of René’s dark hair and angle his head to bring him nearer.

  His hands had only just reached the thin set of shoulders when René yanked himself away, sitting back on his legs with furious eyes and a bright face. James let his hands fall in confusion and licked his lips, shivering with what he knew was cold now.

  “You should not have come for me!” René told him in a thick voice, pitched so low that James nearly could not hear the rich huskiness of arousal. But it was there and James almost reached out, holding himself back only from confusion. “You should not be here,” René added, and James knew that he flinched for the back of his head pounded as it hit the wall.

  Fingers still wet for having been inside of his mouth trailed knowingly through the fine hairs at his waist, and James watched silently as René used them to pop free the large buttons holding closed his breeches and then worked them under the fabric to smooth over his hips. His pantaloons followed them down, so far as to reveal curled, blond hairs, only shades darker from the sun-whitened hair atop his head, barely concealing his pulsing cock from both of their eyes, and he shuddered when he knew baring it to be René’s intent.

  “I must punish you, James.” René’s murmur startled him, the deadly seriousness of the man who hands were achingly close to his cock making James remember his thoughts of insanity. But he knew him to be in earnest, and stared with wide eyes as René twisted his hands under the edge of his pantaloons and grasped his prick. James jerked his hips upward with the same startled pleasure, and felt the familiar glide of René’s hands up the length of him as he leaned back.

  The touch was dry, but firm, carefully wrapping around every bit of him in turn as though René had never held a cock before, something James knew to be false. But with nearly the same slowness that James had taken with René’s prick months ago, his prick was explored and squeezed, drawing a liquid sigh from him before René seemed satisfied that it was the same cock it had been before, that it hardened and burned and wept for him just as it always had. Only then did he relax his grip to stroke leisurely up to the heavy crown, where he rubbed one thumb across the very tip, pushing into the slickness, and then he squeezed again, and James’ teeth found his lip.

  “René,” James croaked, seeking for reason though still held to his spot on the floor, spread out beneath the other man’s gaze. René’s only answer was the removal of one hand from his cock, slipping further down to stroke across the small circle of puckered flesh between his legs. James arched up, breathing so heavily it seemed to fill the room with the animal sounds. They did not press in and hurt as they had before, but James swallowed gulps of air, knowing he lay there with eyes as round the moon while René played with him.

  “Do you understand?” Where his breath was loud, René’s air seemed to have been pulled from his chest, for his words were rough and hushed and slow, as though each one left him empty. James did not understand, and so he struggled to make his head move, shaking it from one side to another without ever losing sight of the slender man kneeling between his thighs.

  A finger darted across the sensitive skin of his arse once again, and James clutched at the flat ground beneath him, and then the bare flesh of his own thighs, knowing he had been expected to give a different answer yet again. Anger firmed the grip on his prick, and René tugged once, hard enough to drag a moan from him. Then the torturous stroking of his cock resumed as though nothing had been said, and James leaned his head to the side, arching his neck to keep René’s gaze even as his body tried to pull away from the little stabs of lust.

  Slowly, as if they had the world to themselves, as if that morning had never happened, and he had never declared James to be his and hurt him, René squeezed up and down his shaft, and James twitched with each pass, wanting to push up into his hand but some part of him keeping still. If René were going to study him without shame then let him strip his breeches away and expose of all him to his sight and his hands, he thought with a surprising burst of anger, and then shuddered at the image of his blood-flushed cock in René’s white hands, another sight that had been denied him on occasions past.

  His cheeks heated, then his throat, his whole body filled with arousal and embarrassment that René would not take his gaze away as he was toyed with, and he tried to frown, or find words that would come out clearly. Only dry groans emerged when he opened his mouth to speak and gathered the courage to dart his eyes lower, to the shifting bulge in his pantaloons, the hint of skin and hair, and the sweat shining on his stomach as surely as the clear drops were glistening on the head of his prick. He wondered faintly if René’s cock were the same, thick and throbbing with need for him, and sought an answer by moving, wanting to feel the burning brand of it against his body as some proof that René felt this too.

  For the barest second he was claimed by it, scorched by the pulse of another’s man arousal between his legs, and then René swore in fevered French and shifted his body. Punishing as he had promised, René touched his hand back to James as if reading his thoughts in his eyes, pushing hard into the head of his
cock with his thumb and bringing James up from the floor with a loud, hoarse cry, only able to pant as he fell back to the ground. René’s lovely mouth opened, and James caught a glance of the sweet tongue he had sucked the night before, and remembered how it had lain still for that but had sucked and danced around his cock like the very Devil when René had taken him into his mouth. Like René’s thumb now, darting around and under the swollen tip to coax his seed from him

  Each lance of delight as René’s palm smoothed over the wet head brought forth another twitching, desperate murmur, and then there was a steamy palm to stroke him, slow and easy, with none of the quick, demanding jerks that made him spill his seed in time to the pushing of René’s cock within him before. But his mind recalled those, and his body the incredible tightness and raw, stinging pleasure of each time that René had filled him to bursting, and he murmured something his ears did not hear, and shifted, turning to the side as much he could, only to turn back a moment later to lay himself before that heavy gaze. It pricked along his chest, made his lips part and his own eyes grow heavy, and he was only distantly shocked to find himself stretching back, wetting his mouth to wait what came next.

  “James…” His own name was something foreign as James watched it come from René’s lush mouth, left partly opened, lips the same red that coloured René’s fair skin. Boldly, James lifted his hips, and sighed at the firm grip sliding down to the base of his prick, brushing his balls, the surprised tightening of René’s fingers. His slender body shook, trembling and rocking against his thighs for one moment, and James felt the sweet twist in his belly at the heat of René’s cock as it pressed against leg once more.

  Someone’s breathing hitched noisily in their throat, and then they seemed to cease breathing altogether as hands pulled away from his manhood to yank down his pantaloons and lay him open to the air.