Velvet Need

by Sean Michael

  He bit his lips, refusing to speak, to make a sound.

  "So stubborn,” laughed Lutrell. “You let such pleasures pass you by because of that stubbornness."

  Lutrell bent and took one of his nipples between hard, sharp teeth.

  "Oh!” He arched, body rippling in shock.

  Soft giggles wafted warm air over his wet nipple. Dent growled, snarling out his anger, his worry.

  "Oh, listen to you.” Lutrell's tongue slid across his nipple as one hand reached for his cock, squeezing around it, moving the sound.

  "Don't. Don't.” His toes curled, balls drawing up tight. Please. Let him go. He ... Oh.

  "I won't stop, don't worry.” His other nipple was bitten, his cock squeezed again.

  Things started shattering, his control foremost on the list.

  "Let go, my dear. I'm here.” The words were breathed against his mouth; then, Lutrell kissed him, lips warm, soft, tongue pushing into his mouth.

  Dent cried out, meeting the kiss head-on, the intimacy and sudden sensation exactly what he needed. Lutrell's tongue swept through his mouth and then slid along his own, Lutrell's hand around his cock slowly tugging, increasing his need.

  He whimpered, pushed toward the kiss, fucking Lutrell's mouth, fucking the man's hand as best he could. Lutrell didn't tease or back off, but moved that hand faster, sucked on his tongue, filled every empty place in him with sensation.

  Dent stopped thinking, stopped worrying, just felt. Just drowned in sensation.

  Lutrell's free hand slid over him, touching his nipples, his balls, curling around his hips, pushing for a moment against his hole. Each touch made him moan, made the need inside him bigger, sharper. Lutrell's breath was his own, pushing inside him as the kiss began to make him dizzy. He shuddered, the sensations almost too much to bear, skin burning and tingling, need filling him.

  One of Lutrell's fingers slid to tap again at his hole, Lutrell's tongue pushing into his mouth with the same rhythm, tying each touch together. The pleasure ratcheted up into hunger, the sensation almost painful.

  Lutrell seemed to know, backing off from the kiss, smiling down at him, eyes twinkling. “You need to come, don't you? I could feel it in your kiss, even if you won't admit it."

  He groaned, tried to catch his breath. Don't talk.

  Lutrell kept stroking his prick, making the need burn through him. “Stubborn, stubborn man."

  "What do you want?"

  "Tell me what you need. Tell me that you need."

  He moaned, hips arching. “You keep playing games!"

  "I do not!” Lutrell straightened, hand still working him. “This isn't a game."

  "Then what is it? What do you want from me?” He wasn't being stubborn; he didn't understand.

  "What do you want, Dent? At this very moment—what do you need?"

  "I need help. I can't think."

  "You don't need to think. You need to feel. How do you feel, Dent? Tell me what you need without thinking about it."

  "I ache. I need to come. I need it to stop. I ache."

  Lutrell laughed, nodding. “Yes! Yes! That's it, Dent! So good.” And with that, Lutrell grasped the ball at the top of the sound and pulled it out in one long, smooth motion. Dent's seed followed right behind, spraying and splashing on his belly.

  "Yes, yes!” Lutrell sounded as if he had been the one to come.

  Dent shook. “Yes..."

  Lutrell hummed, rubbed a cheek against his cock. “So lovely, my dear. Wonderful."

  Dent whimpered; he could do nothing else.

  Lutrell kissed him again, tongue pushing between his lips. Straightening, Lutrell pulled his own cock out of his pants and began to jack off over him exactly as he had done earlier. Dent didn't know how to feel about that, what to think. Whether or not to watch.

  "You make me need, Dent. You make me so hard.” Lutrell was working himself in the same rhythm he'd used on Dent.

  "Oh...” Dent licked his lips, toes curling as he watched those hands move.

  "Look at you—so sexy. And all without deliberately trying. That makes it better, you know.” Lutrell gasped suddenly, hand working harder, those eyes looking at him, ranging over his body, meeting his eyes.

  "I ... I'm...” He shifted, prick throbbing weakly.

  "You,” Lutrell suggested with a happy, breathless little laugh. “Oh!” Crying out, Lutrell jerked and come splashed against Dent's belly, over his cock, hot and wet. He shuddered, closed his eyes as he tried to process all of this.

  Lutrell's fingers slid through the mess on his skin, swirling their come together and rubbing it in. “There. We're mixed on you."

  He could smell them. It was ... heady.

  Lutrell pressed their lips together, tongue slipping into his mouth. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed kissing. Honestly forgotten. Lutrell was good at it, backing off after the initial thrust of dominance and letting the kiss turn into something that was shared, both of them equals in the dance between their mouths.

  He was lost enough in it that he didn't realize at first that Lutrell had undone the bindings on his arms. His arms ached as he moved them, shoulders protesting. A hum filled his mouth, Lutrell's hands sliding up along his chest to his shoulders. How did the man know?

  He relaxed, melting into the table as those hands worked his muscles. The kisses and touches went on and on, keeping him relaxed and easy in his skin.

  Lutrell finally came up for air, smiling down at him, chuckling. “Oh, that was good. You do pleasure quite well, my dear. You should try it more often."

  Good?

  Good?

  It was beyond the pale.

  Beyond sense.

  Beyond him.

  Chapter Three

  Lutrell thought things were going very well. Dent was off-balance, though not wigged out enough to have used his safeword yet, and unless Lutrell suddenly couldn't read people, the man was enjoying himself more than he would admit. Possibly even to himself.

  Lutrell had to admit something to himself as well. Dent wasn't just another man to top, another man to help through self-discovery to the joys of submitting. No, the kisses had proved that, even if the flutters in his belly hadn't. He was drawn to Dent himself. He wanted Dent. It had been a very long time since anyone had made him feel like this. Not since Beller...

  He shook himself and concentrated on the man in front of him. Dent still wasn't comfortable sitting on his couch naked, but the man was more at ease than he'd originally been. And he didn't look like he was going to run screaming from the room again.

  At least not yet. Lutrell giggled. It would happen again, or he wasn't doing something right. But maybe not right now.

  "Will you share my bed with me, Dent?” he asked. The truth was, he wanted to do more than just sleep with Dent. He wanted to explore Dent outside of the confines of his “operating room."

  "What?” Dent looked up, blinking slowly. “I was thinking."

  He giggled. “I was, too! I was thinking it was time to go to bed and I would like you to join me in mine."

  "I could sleep.” Dent nodded, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I need a shower, if you're going to keep me here."

  "Excellent! I need one as well. We'll share.” He didn't want to give Dent time to think too much and work himself back into being too spooked.

  He noticed that Dent was in a fugue state, willing to go along with whatever was suggested because fighting hadn't been working. Eventually, it would pass. In the meantime he would press his advantage, touch and clean and make the man enjoy being in his own skin.

  He slid his arm around Dent's shoulders and led him to the bathroom with its lovely large shower and its cool blue walls. “How do you like your water, my dear? I like it warm, but not hot. I don't like being overheated. It's not good for the skin."

  "I like warm. I hate being cold."

  "Warm it is.” Lutrell had noticed that about Dent and he bumped the temperature up a little bit in the room.

  He start
ed to strip, curious to see Dent's reaction to him. It was the first time Dent would have seen him naked. Dent turned the water on, filling the room with steam. It made him chuckle. His definition of warm and Dent's were completely different.

  He adjusted it to a slightly lower temperature, giving Dent a smile, and encouraged the man to get in under the water. “Perhaps you can wash me this time,” he suggested.

  Dent stared at him for a moment. Then, his dark head fell back, soaking up the water.

  Lutrell stood there blinking, a little put out. “Is that a no?” Was it really so much to ask? Even of a strong man like Dent?

  "No, it wasn't.” Dent's eyes held his, steady, strong. “The water felt good on my neck. I was tense."

  "Oh.” He giggled at himself—his growing feelings for Dent were coloring his reactions. He would have to watch that. “Excellent, excellent. I will of course wash you as well."

  Dent nodded, eyes on the tile, then on him.

  He smiled at Dent. “I'm glad you decided to stay.” Even if Dent didn't know why he hadn't used his safeword.

  "I don't know what to think about this."

  Lutrell chuckled and clapped his hands. “That's wonderful, Dent! That means you're running on instinct. That's a very good place to start our relationship."

  "You ... you confuse me.” Dent picked up the soap, started washing them both.

  "That's not a bad thing, my dear.” He hummed as Dent's fingers slid over him. “Feel free to make it an exploration as much as a washing."

  "Are you always so pushy?” Dent's hands were huge. Wonderful.

  He pushed into the touches, enjoying each one, wondering how it would feel to have Dent's hands move on him in passion. “Yes. I imagine I am."

  "Were you a good doctor?"

  "I was competent. There was no joy in it. But what I do now?” He laughed. “Oh, there is joy in this."

  Dent shook his head, turned him to run soap-slick hands down his back.

  He hummed a little, pushing back into Dent's hands. “Your touch is quite wonderful, Dent."

  "The little ones I've played with here said so, mostly."

  "Little ones.” He cackled. “Oh, Dent, you don't want little ones!” Imagine this big, beautiful man playing with the likes of Love and Harley and the others.

  "How do you know what I want?” Those hands pushed harder, the pressure delicious.

  "You're still here aren't you?” he asked softly, a ripple going through him. Please, he thought, don't stop.

  "You wouldn't open the door.” Dent stroked him, the touches almost bruising, making his skin sing.

  His laughter slid into groans and he reached for the tile, using it for traction as he pushed back into Dent's hands. “Oh, don't stop, Dent."

  Dent didn't answer, but Dent didn't stop either, fingers digging into his muscles. Lutrell spread his legs slightly, ass pushing back, begging for attention. He got exactly what he wanted, hands sluicing the water from him, leaving him gasping. Oh, those lucky little ones. Of course, they didn't know what to do with a man like Dent.

  He did.

  "More,” he demanded.

  "Bossy.” The touches continued. “What happens if I fight you?"

  He let his eyes close, enjoying the intimacy, as he considered the question. “You have been fighting me, Dent. Though you've been fighting yourself harder, have you not?"

  "No. I'm fighting you. I know me."

  He laughed at that, turning and leaning against the tile. “You do, do you?"

  "I do.” Stubborn, stubborn man.

  Chuckling, he grabbed the back of Dent's neck and drew the man close for a hard kiss. Dent gave a sharp, surprised cry, then stepped closer. Oh, yes. He knew a thing or two about Dent. Perhaps a thing or two that Dent himself didn't know.

  He fucked Dent's mouth with his tongue, hips pushing to rub against Dent's body. Dent's hands landed on his hips, moving him. Oh, yes. Dent's body knew what it wanted, knew what Dent needed. He slid his arms around Dent's shoulders, holding on to that glorious strength.

  Dent drove against him, into the kiss, toward him. They slammed up against the wall, their passion flaring high, bright. Dent groaned, pushing them harder, faster, driving their heat. He bit at Dent's lips and sucked on them before continuing to fuck them with his tongue. He let Dent guide their bodies, let the heat continue to build. It had been so long—not since he'd found pleasure, but since he'd found this sort of fire and intensity in it.

  Dent gave him no quarter, the passion hidden there a pure addiction. His fingers dug into Dent's back, nails scratching as his hips pushed, meeting Dent's body.

  He broke off their kiss long enough to growl out “more!"

  Dent rumbled, slamming into him, driving him.

  That strength turned him on so much, along with the knowledge that he controlled it, that it was all laid at his feet and given to him. That was even headier, making his balls ache. He reached between them, grabbed Dent's prick and tugged it with harsh, hard strokes. Dent's hand landed on his cock, pulling hard, demanding his own response.

  He threw his head back and laughed, the pleasure arcing through him, shooting out of him as Dent's hand tightened. “Yes! Oh, yes!"

  Dent groaned, thumb sliding over the sensitive tip of Lutrell's prick, making the aftershocks soar through him. His own fingers squeezed Dent hard, hand barely moving as the pleasure took him.

  Moaning, panting, he slumped against the wall, hand beginning to move again, to work Dent. Dent's head tossed, throat working, hips bucking. He slid the fingers of his free hand over the top of Dent's cock, picking up the pre-come leaking there. He painted Dent's lips with his fingers and then leaned in to lick the bitter salt of Dent's need away.

  "Aches.” Dent's words were growled out.

  "Give it to me, Dent. Let me have your ache, wrapped in your pleasure.” He bit down on Dent's lower lip, hand going right to the root of the man and coming back up again.

  Dent arched, went up on tiptoe as the strong body jerked, started shuddering.

  "Let go. Give me your pleasure.” He stroked Dent again and again, hand tight around the man's hot prick.

  Dent came with a groan, heat pouring over Lutrell's fingers. The man truly was lovely when he came, his passion written in his face, his need exposed. Lutrell groaned and tugged Dent in close, arms wrapping around the muscled body as the water fell on them.

  Dent sighed, leaned toward him, a tentative peace found between them. Lutrell could only hope that Dent would remember this later, when they again found themselves in a battle of wills.

  He hoped Dent would remember the pleasure and the need between them when the time came for him to choose to return.

  * * * *

  Lutrell giggled, clapping his hands as a wicked idea came to him. He poured a glass of juice for Dent and sat across from the man, smiling. “I trust you had a good sleep?"

  They'd curled together in his bed. Well, Dent had lain there stiffly and Lutrell had curled. Dent had relaxed during the night, though, fallen asleep and cuddled. Lutrell made sure he was out of bed before Dent woke.

  Dent's eyes flew open, strong body stiff and surprised, scrabbling for the sheets. “I. Shit."

  He chuckled. “Oh, I'm sure we don't have that problem, but I'll give you another enema once we've started, just to be sure."

  Poor man, he wasn't awake, wasn't thinking yet. “Caff. I need..."

  "You hardly need the outside stimulates. I have juice for you.” He held out the glass.

  "I have a headache. I need something.” The juice was taken, gulped down, Dent's throat working.

  "You need to come with me.” He took the glass from Dent's fingers and put it on the side table and held out his hand with a soft laugh. “Come now."

  "No.” Dent leaned forward, rubbing his forehead. “Can't we just stop for a minute?"

  "You've had a good night's sleep, my dear.” He slid his fingers over Dent's head, stroking. “It's nice and quiet in the room. You can lie
down there. Relax."

  Dent leaned into his touch; Lutrell had never seen anyone so hungry for simple sensations. He continued to stroke, his other hand joining in the soft massaging. “You don't have to fight me on everything, you know?"

  "Isn't that my job?"

  He laughed. “Your job is to enjoy what I do to you. Whether you think you want to or not.” He put a kiss on Dent's lips and then grabbed the man's hands. “Now stop stalling and come with me."

  Dent frowned and rumbled, but stood, taking the top sheet along with him.

  Lutrell chuckled and tugged the sheet away. “You have nothing to hide."

  "Still...” Dent straightened, heavy cock soft under a mass of shiny ebony curls.

  "You're beautiful, Dent. It is my wish to see you."

  He led Dent into the hall and stopped at the bathroom. “You may relieve yourself."

  Dent murmured his thanks, heading in and trying to slide the door closed. The move was pure habit, Dent not even looking to see if the door shut as he moved to the sink.

  Lutrell looked down the hall toward the room, anticipating what they would do this morning while giving Dent his privacy.

  Dent washed himself, brushed his teeth, and did his business. The man was fastidious—easily as much so as Lutrell himself.

  They were well-matched. Even Dent's stubbornness was matched by his own. And of course, he knew what Dent wanted, what he needed, even though the man kept it hidden from himself.

  "Come, now."

  Dent looked over, surprised, lost in his own world, in his own mind.

  Lutrell chuckled and took the man's hand. “We have a day left together, Dent. I don't want to miss a moment."

  "This is unreal. All of it.” Dent followed him, mouth complaining even as his body responded to Lutrell.

  "Oh, my dear, it feels very real to me.” He squeezed Dent's hand. “You feel very real.” And he was quite sure the enema, the sound, they had felt real to Dent as well.

  "I feel very ... lost.” That lovely mouth snapped shut, Dent's cheeks flaming.

  "I'm not surprised, my dear. You hide yourself so thoroughly. We'll find you."

  He led Dent to the table and patted it.