The Lightning-Struck Heart

by TJ Klune

  “So?” I asked. “Why would he care? It’s not like he’s going to….” My eyes went wide.

  “There it is,” Gary said.

  “He’s going to put his mouth on me!”

  “And his tongue,” Gary said.

  “Gary!”

  “Oh boy.”

  I started stripping off my clothes. “He wants some of this!”

  Gary closed his eyes. “That may be so, but I don’t want to see it.”

  I scowled at him. “I had to listen to you and Kevin role-play naughty unicorn. You can fucking deal.”

  Gary sighed, sounding extraordinarily put out, but he followed me into the bathroom anyway.

  A servant had already been up ahead of us in the room, and the bathtub was filled with water that still steamed. Violets and lemongrass floated along the surface. I shucked my trousers off and stepped into the water, hissing as it reddened my skin.

  “Okay,” I said to Gary. “Advice time.”

  “Go,” he said.

  “What do I suck on first?” I asked, taking a bar of soap made of goat’s milk and flaxseed oil and rubbing it against my armpits vigorously.

  He choked. “I am so not ready for this.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you are,” I told him. “This is happening. In less than a day, I’ve gone from being sad and despondent and still pretty awesome to having a super fucking hot boyfriend who is about to ravage me in ways I never thought were possible and you better tell me what I need to suck on!”

  “Yikes,” Gary said. “There really is no need to shout.”

  “I might be freaking out a bit,” I said.

  “No shit.”

  “So?” I lathered up the soap in my hands and then scrubbed my feet. I didn’t expect anyone to be licking my toes in the near future, but I didn’t want to rule out the possibility. I didn’t think I quite knew what was considered foreplay and what was considered kink yet. I figured I’d get better with practice, but I didn’t want to make the mistake of saying something like, “Oh, this is nice, now is second base where you eat my feet?”

  “Gary! What do I need to do with my mouth!”

  “His penis,” Gary offered.

  “His penis,” I said, brain melting. “Like. What. And just. Whoa.”

  “Sam? Sam. Oh for the love of the gods, did I break you?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m just. Just.”

  “Thinking about Ryan Foxheart’s penis,” he said helpfully.

  “What if he’s huge?” I asked.

  “What if he’s tiny?” Gary asked with wide eyes.

  “I would love him anyway,” I decided.

  “Aww,” Gary said. “I only threw up a little bit at that.”

  “You’re not helping!” I said, soaping up my hair. “If you’re going to be sassy, get the hell out. Wait. Why are you even here?”

  “I came to make sure you weren’t nervous,” Gary said. “It’s not every day that your flower gets eaten.”

  “I’m not nervous,” I said nervously.

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course not. You only got everything you’ve wished for over the years and now you’re about to find out just what a prostate does. Of course you’re not nervous.”

  “Best friends are mostly awesome,” I said. “This is not one of those times. And stop calling it my fucking flower. I am not some fair maiden being wooed. I am a fucking wizard’s apprentice about to have hardcore gay sex. I am a motherfucking man.”

  Gary grinned at me. “Yeah, you’ll be fine. Remember two things.”

  I nodded, because I just knew he was going to impart words of impeccable wisdom upon me that I would treasure for the rest of my life.

  “First,” he said. “You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you are uncomfortable, if something hurts, you tell him to stop and he will. If he doesn’t, you curse his fucking ass, find me, and I will murder him. Are we clear?”

  “My loved ones are extraordinarily violent,” I said. “Deal. What’s the second thing?”

  “When you’re finished,” Gary said, “you have to tell me every single detail. I want to know everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything,” he said. “You’re about to get porked and I want to know what kind of sex face he has.”

  I grimaced. “Nothing about that sentence was even remotely sexy.”

  “Wash your taint, kitten.”

  And so I did.

  When I felt I couldn’t be any cleaner, Gary handed me a towel and I wrapped it around my waist. The mirror was foggy, and I wiped a hand across it. My reflection was wide-eyed and looked slightly manic. “Crap. I have crazy face.”

  “Only a little bit,” Gary said.

  “That wasn’t as helpful as you thought it was,” I said.

  “You got this, okay?”

  “That was a little better.”

  He snorted, and it came out eggshell white and olive green. I would have though it pretty if I wasn’t unsuccessfully trying to make my crazy face go away. “Sam,” Gary said quietly, hooking his chin over my shoulder and watching me in the mirror. “It’s going to be okay. Ryan loves you, and he’s going to take care of you.”

  I shrugged. “I know.” Because I truly did.

  “And you are going to live happily ever after.”

  “You think?” I asked, trying not to get my hopes up.

  “I know it,” he said. “And I came to tell you I told you so.”

  “I love you,” I told him. “You know that, right?”

  “I know,” he said, pressing his lips against the side of my head. “I love you too.”

  “Good. Feel better?”

  “You know what? I do. It’s going to be fine. I’ll just—”

  A knock at the door.

  “—go out of my fucking mind because he’s here.”

  “Well,” Gary said. “I tried. Sam. It’s been lovely. Have fun. Make sure you press up right behind his balls before he comes. It’ll feel really good.”

  “Wait, what!”

  “Toodles!” he called over his shoulder, heading for the door, leaving me to my doom.

  I heard the door open. Then, “Well, I’ll be. Ryan Foxheart. Now this is unexpected.”

  “Gary,” I heard Ryan say. “Everything okay?”

  “Peachy,” Gary said cheerfully. “Sam is finishing up in the bathroom. While he’s in there, you and I can chat for a minute.”

  “I can hear every word you’re saying!” I called out.

  “Ignore him,” Gary said. “He’s naked in front of the mirror admiring his nipples.”

  “That’s… nice,” Ryan said, sounding rather breathless.

  “Sweet molasses,” I muttered.

  “So, quick word. You love him?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation.

  “You going to hurt him?”

  “Not intentionally.”

  “Hmm,” Gary said. “I’ll allow it, Ryan. Can I call you Ryan?”

  “Don’t you normally?”

  “Wonderful. Ryan. If you hurt him, Tiggy and I will tear you to pieces and bathe in your blood. Your soul will be torn from your body and we’ll trap it in an enchanted urn. I will then light the urn on fire and Kevin will eat it. Soon, you would be nothing but a pile of dragon shit. Are we clear?”

  I groaned quite loudly.

  “Oh, listen,” Gary said. “Sam sounds like he’s practicing.”

  “He sounds… practiced,” Ryan said.

  “Ew,” Gary said. “Is that your sex face? I am getting kind of grossed out just being here right now. It’s like my children are about to bone.”

  “There are so many things wrong with that sentence!” I shouted at him.

  “We’re clear,” Ryan said. “No dragon shit, and we’ll be good.”

  “Not too good, I hope,” I heard Gary purr.

  “Yep,” I said. “Time to leave. Bye, Gary! Bye! Thank you! Bye!”

  “Rude,” Gary said. “But also accep
table. I’ll leave you to it. Sam, I expect to see you in the morning with tales of your flower being devoured.”

  I ran out of the bathroom, but he was already cackling his way out the door. I slammed it behind him, flicking the heavy lock for good measure. I began to plot his timely demise for the millionth time since I’d known him and had a pretty good scenario in my head involving a vat of acid when I realized I was standing next to Ryan Foxheart wearing nothing but a towel.

  He’d changed too, wearing a light cotton shirt that clung to his skin. Loose-fitting trousers hung at his waist. His feet were bare, and I found that strangely adorable. His hair was wet, as he must have bathed as well. His eyes were on me, dark and heated, and I swallowed thickly. A trickle of water rolled down his throat to his collarbone, and I wanted to chase it with my tongue.

  So I did.

  There was a sharp intake of air as my tongue flicked out against his throat, tasting the droplet, licking up the path it left. I followed it up and my cheek brushed against his and our lips met, slick and hot as he kissed me. His hands came up to my hair, fingers digging and tugging gently as he worked his mouth over mine. His tongue slid wetly over my lips and I groaned, opening my mouth. He took it as invitation and I was pressed again at the door, my back against the wood, his front against mine from head to toe.

  I didn’t stop myself from grinding into him this time, and I shuddered when I felt an answering hardness. There was electricity in the contact, and my skin felt stretched taut and hot. He kept one hand in my hair, pulling my head back as he sucked lightly on my throat. He dropped his other hand down against my chest, fingers trailing until his nails scraped against my right nipple. I gasped when he pinched the skin lightly. “Okay?” he murmured against my lips.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m so fucking okay right now.”

  He chuckled. “I have plans.”

  “Do you?” I asked, opening my eyes, his face inches from my own.

  “Yes,” he said, resting his hand on my stomach. He brushed his groin against mine again, and I trembled at the touch. “I’m going to take care of you. I promise. I’m going to make sure you won’t—”

  “I didn’t have sex with Moishe,” I blurted out, unable to stop myself. “I just… wanted you to know. I didn’t have sex with him.”

  He closed his eyes and took a stuttering step back, and for a moment, I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. Granted, it was probably not the best to be speaking about sex with another person (or lack thereof) when you’re about to get funky with someone else, but I couldn’t let that stay hidden. I couldn’t let him think otherwise. Everything was on the table now. No more hiding.

  “But,” he said. “You…. Randall said. He could smell the elf on you.”

  “I was going to,” I said, trying to force the words out. “I went there. To Mama’s. To let him take from me what he wanted. I was so fucking pissed off at you and I wasn’t thinking clearly and I… I don’t know. I just thought that maybe. Maybe I would feel better to have someone want me.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No. He came in the room. He kissed me and his hands were on me and it felt wrong. I just. I couldn’t do it so I told him to stop. He did. I left.”

  “Sam,” he said, breathing heavily.

  “Yeah?”

  “Lose the towel.”

  I acted without thinking. I pulled the towel off. Dropped it away.

  He was on his knees even before it hit the ground. His callused hand circled the base of my dick, and he licked the reddened tip. I groaned, my back falling against the door. There was no warning then, when he took me in his mouth, cheeks hollowed and eyes fluttering closed. He sucked down the length of my cock and my hips jerked at the slight sting of teeth, the swirl of his tongue. His nose brushed against my pubes and he held it there, my cock knocking against the back of his throat. I wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn’t small either, and the fact that he took me down in one smooth go of it was almost enough to knock me on my ass.

  I didn’t know what to do with my hands, and so I kept them curled in fists at my sides. That is until he grabbed my right hand as he bobbed up and down, taking it to the top of his head, curling my fingers into his hair. It was still wet and I looked down, my fingers disappearing into the locks. I watched as spit leaked out the side of his mouth, his lips stretched. His eyes opened and he looked up at me before sliding back up and off. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can. I can take it.”

  “Can what?” I said roughly.

  His lips were wet with saliva when he said, “You can fuck my mouth. I’m good. Come on. You can do it.”

  If that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing I’d ever heard anyone say, then I didn’t know what was. I ignored the strange curl of jealousy that rolled in my stomach, knowing I wasn’t his first or second or third. He could do this because he’d done it before. I pushed it away, though, before it could get any further (JustinJustinJustin). He wasn’t mine then, but I thought he might be now, so I let it alone and nodded down at him.

  His mouth went back to my dick, and I pushed experimentally into his mouth, a shallow thrust. He waited for me to go at my own pace, but his fingers tightened on my hips and I knew he wouldn’t wait for long. I tugged on his hair and he moaned, muffled around my cock. It vibrated in my skin and my balls tightened.

  I pushed forward again, farther this time, fingers against his scalp. The slide of his tongue was wet on the underside of my cock, the minute flick of it against the slit almost making my knees buckle. I thrust again, pushing as far as I could go, his throat constricting and loosening as I pulled out and pushed back in.

  I’d never felt anything like it before, the wet heat. The feel of his head in my hands. His nails digging into my hips and ass. One of his hands came up and he tugged gently on my balls and I thought I would shoot off right then, but I was able to stave off, though I wouldn’t last much longer.

  “Stop,” I finally gasped. “Just stop and—”

  He pulled off immediately, his lips swollen. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and there was something amazingly erotic about him, this powerful knight, fully clothed and on his knees while I stood nude above him, my dick wet with his spit.

  “I was going to come,” I said. “I didn’t… not yet. I want.”

  He seemed to understand my babbling because he stood swiftly, kissing me again. There was a slight bitterness on his tongue and realized I was tasting myself in his mouth. I chased after it, my hands curled around his nape as he rubbed up against me, finding friction and rutting into it.

  “Naked,” I muttered against his mouth. “Why aren’t you more naked?”

  “That what you want?” he asked me, kissing me again, then backing away. His eyes roamed hungrily up and down, taking in every inch of me. My first instinct was to hide, to cover myself, the heat of embarrassment crawling up my neck. But there was nothing cruel or mocking in his gaze. Quite the opposite, really. He looked as if he wanted to reach out and touch, but was stopping himself from doing so.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That’s what I want.”

  He nodded once.

  The shirt came off first and I remembered the day in the river, watching him bathe, the sun setting behind him on golden skin, the flex and pull of tissue and muscle. It was on display here again, except we were alone and in my room. Then felt like a dream, hazy and bright. Here, the sun was almost down and the colors were muted. Candlelight flickered behind him, shadows dancing along his arms and shoulders.

  “The rest,” I said.

  He moved slowly then, and if I put too much thought into it, I might have said he was performing. His hands went to the front, unfastening each button with nimble fingers. He pulled the trousers open, his pubic hair darker than the trail on his stomach. He brought his hands to his hips, inching the trousers down. I could see the base of his dick, then the length, then the ruddy head as it sprang free. It was slightly thicker than my own, and curve
d toward the right. I wondered at the weight of it, my fingers itching to reach out and touch.

  He slid the trousers down his legs, bending over but never taking his eyes off of me. His thighs were covered in light hair and were corded with muscle. He let the trousers fall to his feet. He pulled himself back up to his full height. Lifted his right leg, shook his foot free. Did the same with the left. Kicked the trousers away.

  And just stood there.

  I said, “I’ll be honest. I’m pretty sure I want to write sonnets about your dick.”

  He gaped at me.

  “Dammit,” I said as I winced. “That sounded sexier in my head.”

  He snorted and shook his head. “It was still pretty sexy. Sort of.” He brought his arms over his head, clasping his hands and stretching back. Muscles bunched and contracted all over him, the light from the candle moving over his skin as if it were made to do only that.

  “You’re doing that on purpose,” I said hoarsely.

  “What?” he asked, cocking a teasing eyebrow.

  “That,” I said, waving my hand at him up and down. “With your whole… thing. You’re posing.”

  “Am I?” he asked, taking a step back away from me.

  “Dashing and immaculate,” I insisted, taking an answering step toward him, not even caring anymore that I was completely naked and with a ridiculous erection.

  “You don’t say?” Another step back.

  “It was nice,” I admitted.

  “Nice?” he said, sounding smug. He took another step back, and he was almost at my bed. “You think it’s nice? A minute ago, you were getting ready to rhapsodize about my dick. Now it’s nice.” The backs of his thighs hit the edge of my bed, and he sat down on it. He put his hands on the mattress, forearms flexing as he pushed himself back on the blankets. I tried not to stare as his balls bunched under his dick, dragging along my bed. “Nice,” he said.

  “I like nice,” I said, voice just above a growl.

  “I know,” he said. “Do you remember what I said the night we first danced?”

  “You said many things. I wondered if you would ever shut up.”

  He laughed. “I told you I wasn’t nice.”

  “I’m nervous,” I said, cringing slightly.

  His face softened. “Sam.”