Velvet Need

by Sean Michael

  "Oh, I imagine it will feel good. If you don't grow hard, though...” Lutrell shrugged. “It will come with time, and I have nowhere to go."

  "I don't ... I don't want to do it. Not yet. I'm not ready."

  "It's not your choice, my dear.” Lutrell chuckled. “It never has been, has it?” He always decided. He knew what Dent needed. He had forgotten that.

  "Lutrell..."

  He would not let the worry in that voice dissuade him. He stroked Dent's forehead; he liked it better when Dent called him Bertoli, but he understood the distancing.

  He wrapped his hand around Dent's prick and stroked gently.

  Dent leaned toward his touch, needing his strength, his care. Needing him.

  "Beautiful,” he murmured, laughing at how lovely Dent was, how strong his responses were. “We'll start back at the beginning, with the small sound."

  "I don't want it not to work, Bertoli.” Scared. Dent was scared.

  "Then let it work, Dent. Just let go of everything and feel.” Bending, he took Dent's prick into his mouth, tongue flicking across the slit at the tip, pushing slightly into it.

  Dent moaned, shook his head. That pretty cock started to fill, to jerk in his lips. Lutrell laughed around Dent's cock, so pleased at the response. He sucked a little harder, fingers rolling the man's balls.

  "Bertoli. Love.” Dent shivered, tried to pull away.

  His head bobbed, the words increasing his determination to do this for his lover. The harder he could get Dent, the better.

  Dent's body tried to fill, balls tightening. He hummed, willing the man to relax and let the pleasure have its way.

  "Bertoli...” Dent's hips shifted, almost trying to push into his lips.

  He bobbed his head, encouraging Dent's instincts. Oh, the barest hint of salt slid on his tongue, just a touch. It was enough and he moaned, his own prick responding to the taste with a surge. He sucked a moment longer, tongue again teasing the slit before he pulled off, hand immediately moving to stroke, to keep the hardness he'd worked for.

  "You like what's coming, my dear. You have from the very first."

  "I ... Yes.” Dent shifted. “Yes."

  He chuckled. The first time they'd done this, Dent would not have admitted he enjoyed it, not for anything. He reached for the sound, letting Dent see it, the silver wand quite slender with a little ball on top.

  "Tell me. Tell me how it will feel.” Dent groaned, eyes fastened on the sound.

  "There will be pressure. And it will fill you. You'll love it."

  Dent nodded. “Tell me more? Please?"

  "It will begin cool and will warm quickly, pulling your heat into itself. I will put it partway in and then tilt your prick just so, let it slide the rest of the way, nice and smooth."

  He put the sound back down and grabbed the lube. He squeezed Dent's cock, opening the slit, then began to push lube into it.

  Dent's cock flagged a bit, but didn't go limp. “Why? Why do you want to do it?"

  He laughed softly. “Because you need it, my dear.” He pushed some more lube into Dent's prick and then slicked up the sound. “Here it comes."

  "I...” Dent stilled, watching, hunger and worry clear on his face.

  "You will enjoy it, my dear.” Even if Dent did not come, he would enjoy it.

  Lutrell slid the tip of the sound into Dent's body. Dent nodded, breath coming quick, heart beating visibly for him.

  "Yes, that's it, slowly and surely, yes?” He kept sliding the sound in, stopping when it was almost halfway in. “And then I just...” he shifted Dent's cock just a touch and let the sound go, laughing happily as it slid right in until the ball at the top stopped it.

  "Bertoli...” Dent moaned, legs tugging at the bonds, heels thrumming against the table.

  "Yes. Yes, my dear. Feel it.” Bending, he put his tongue to Dent's hole, licking it.

  Dent's cry was deep, body trembling. “I ... I don't ... It's big. Bertoli..."

  He chuckled. “No. Not so big.” He licked again and then pushed his tongue into Dent's body, fingers twirling the little ball on top of the sound.

  Dent whimpered, hips shifting, riding the sensations. Yes.

  He began to fuck Dent with his tongue, kept twirling the sound, not giving Dent a moment without sensation.

  His name rang out, sweet, happy, needy. Needy.

  Happiness poured through him, along with relief, gladness and even pleasure at the sound. He worked harder, wanting more of those lovely noises.

  Dent's body clenched, balls drawing up, motions growing more and more desperate, and then something happened, need crashed into panic. “No! I—I—I can't. I can't. I can't. Nightlight. Nightlight. Bertoli. Please. Please."

  He stopped immediately, hands sliding along Dent's thighs for a moment before he cupped Dent's face, pressing his own to it. “Okay. Look at me. I'm right here. Right here, Dent."

  "Here.” Dent's eyes rolled, then fastened onto his. “Here—I—here."

  "Yes. Shh. Yes. Right here with me, my dear. Here with your Bertoli. And I am so proud of you. You've done so well. So very well.” He reached with one hand, releasing Dent's right arm from the cuff.

  That single act eased the panic, Dent's hand petting his arm, the long body relaxing. He hummed, sliding his lips along Dent's, just breathing the same air.

  He reached and undid the cuff around Dent's other wrist. “Let me remove the sound?"

  "I'm sorry. I ... I wanted so badly...” Dent nodded, eyes devastated, apologetic.

  "No. No, you did so well, my dear. So well. Next time will go better, yes?” He kissed Dent softly and reached for the poor prick, carefully pulling the sound out.

  Dent sat up, pulling away, pulling inside himself.

  Lutrell undid the ankle cuffs, freeing Dent, taking them completely out of the scene. He would not let Dent retreat back into himself, though.

  He cupped Dent's face again, tilting it so their eyes met. “No more hiding, my dear."

  Dent tried to pull away, but he wouldn't allow it, wouldn't allow that shame.

  "There has never ever been shame in safewording, Dent. You never have to apologize for that. You have been a top—you know how it works. You know. The rules are the same for you.” He looked into those eyes, put all of his faith, his belief in their lifestyle into his own.

  "I want them out of my head. I want to be whole again."

  "Yes, I want that as well. We'll get there, my dear.” He stroked Dent's skin. “Would you like a hot bath?"

  "Yes.” His water-lover.

  He chuckled. “Maybe not so hot that I cannot join you."

  He helped Dent down off the table, kept close, always touching as they made their way down the hall. Dent started the water, making it cool enough for him without a fuss, making it clear that Dent wanted him in the tub.

  He poured a large glass of cold water and put it on the edge of the tub before stripping and joining Dent in the water, settling against the solid body. “You've done well today, my dear."

  Dent made a non-committal noise, tugged him close and held him.

  He chuckled, curling in close, cheek resting against Dent's shoulder. “You have,” he insisted.

  "I'm ... I...” Dent sighed, squeezed him.

  Lutrell shook his head. He was the top and he was right, Dent had done very well. Getting Dent to believe it might be another matter.

  He slid his hands over Dent's chest, just touching. He'd found something with Dent, something he hadn't even been aware he'd lost and he would not lose it, would not have it stolen from them. “Can you tell me what went wrong?"

  "I ... It was good and I forgot to watch. I mean, I just ... I forgot to watch."

  Lutrell frowned, but worked very hard not to stiffen. “Forgot to watch what, my dear?"

  Dent shook his head. “It ... You know how things hurt more when you're surprised? I watched them. When everything happened."

  "But they aren't here, Dent. You don't need to keep watch anymore. Forge
tting to watch—that was a good thing. It was!"

  "I know that. I just ... I just can't. I have to watch. See. Pay attention."

  Lutrell slid his finger across Dent's nipple, distracting himself as much as Dent, believing he needed to keep the conversation light, to keep Dent talking. “I will always stop, Dent. You know that. One word and everything stops.” They had already proved that, more than once.

  "I know. It doesn't have to make sense."

  Lutrell chuckled and kissed Dent's skin above his nipple. “No, I don't suppose it does.” It would just be easier if it did. He hummed a little and licked across the little nub. Dent tasted good, right.

  Dent sighed softly, the sound almost peaceful, thumb rubbing his nape.

  Lutrell smiled and all but purred beneath Dent's touches.

  "I'm sorry, Bertoli. I tried to come away whole."

  He tilted his head up, sliding his hand along Dent's cheek until they were looking at each other. “You came away, my dear. That is what is important."

  "I hope so."

  He didn't think Dent believed it, but wasn't going to argue. “Shall I wash you?” he asked.

  The ritual began their scenes, but he enjoyed it as well outside of them, enjoyed touching Dent and the calm it always brought.

  "You don't have to.” Despite the polite refusal, Dent's head nodded, eyes betraying how hungry he was for the contact.

  He laughed softly. “No, I don't. However, I want to.” He reached over to the soap holder, snagging the blue cake. “It's new. It's called ‘sky,’ and it's a very close match to the ocean one you like so much."

  He sudsed it up and held his hand up to Dent's face. Dent breathed in, smiled. His water-lover. “That's quite good."

  Smiling, Lutrell began to slide his soapy hands over Dent, making the touches sensual. Dent stretched, hummed, relaxing for him. The beautiful cock began to rise as Dent felt him.

  Lutrell giggled softly, his happiness returning as Dent relaxed and responded. He slid his soapy hands into the water, running them along Dent's sides, not caring that he wasn't doing a proper job of cleaning. Dent was clean, after all; they were here for a different ritual, the ability to touch and make each other feel good.

  "Always so happy, Bertoli.” Damp fingers traced his smile.

  "You bring it out in me, my dear. You fill me with joy.” He licked at the tips of Dent's fingers.

  "I...” Dent leaned in, kissed him, the caress slow and sweet and flavored with tears.

  His fingers slid into Dent's hair, caressing Dent's scalp as he accepted the kiss, let Dent keep control of it.

  Dent watched him, eyes quiet, focused. Watching.

  He looked back, putting his love and his belief in Dent into his eyes, into the kiss. Putting his heart into it.

  Dent's hand cupped his jaw. Held him. Touched him.

  He moaned into the kiss, nuzzled into the touches. No one touched him as his Dent did. No one.

  "Love.” The word was whispered. Once. So soft.

  Lutrell nearly sobbed. Instead, he deepened the kiss, answering with his lips, with his hands as they slid carefully, gently over Dent's skin.

  Dent's lips opened, tongue sliding against his, something close to passion building between them.

  He touched Dent a little harder, fingers beginning to search for the sweet spots he knew were there.

  Dent fed him deep sounds, beginning to move against him.

  Lutrell shifted to straddle Dent's legs, his breath growing short.

  "I...” Dent moaned, frowning a little. No. No thinking.

  Lutrell slid a finger across Dent's nipple, then pinched it, looking to distract Dent from his brain.

  Dent's eyes flashed, heart speeding under his touch. Yes.

  Lutrell laughed into Dent's mouth, shared the happiness Dent filled him with. They would make this work. His fingers kept teasing and playing with first one nipple and then the other.

  "I don't ... I...” The water splashed as Dent shifted, hips rolling up toward him.

  "You.” He shifted again until their cocks slid together, his moan echoing on the tiles.

  Dent moaned, cock hard, hot, sliding against his own. Lutrell stopped thinking, himself, and just went with it, just felt. He was laughing and moaning, moving with Dent.

  Dent held on, eyes fastened to his, a mixture of worry and a growing hope in the look. He kept touching and rocking and kissing, wrapping them both in sensation.

  "Bertoli.” Dent whimpered, pushing against him, fingers curling.

  "Yes. Yes.” He rocked harder, faster. “Your Bertoli."

  "I want...” Dent was shaking, the water splashing.

  "Me, too.” He threw his head back, laughing, fingers sliding, clutching.

  "Don't let me ... don't stop...” Dent stretched, pushing faster.

  Lutrell shook his head. “No. No stopping.” No stopping. Not this time. Please. He matched Dent's movements, keeping pace. It felt good, so good, but the best part of all was having Dent right there with him.

  "Bertoli...” Dent's mouth found his shoulder, sucking up a mark as ... Yes. Yes. Seed sprayed between them, hotter than the water. He cried out, Dent's orgasm the most beautiful, wonderful thing he'd ever been a part of. His own pleasure spilled from him a moment later and he collapsed against Dent, laughing, his joy ringing out.

  Dent pressed close, gasping against his throat.

  "Yes. Yes, my dear. Oh.” Lutrell couldn't stop laughing, giggling. There had been more than one time when he'd thought this would never happen again. He held on tight to his lover.

  Dent nodded, and he thought he felt a smile. A real smile. He took several deep breaths, calming himself, hands sliding on Dent's skin. He wanted to hold onto this moment for as long as he could.

  "Thank you."

  He cupped Dent's face, turning it so he could look into the lovely eyes. “Thank you, my dear. Thank you for being strong enough to come home."

  "I'm trying.” Dent met his eyes, a peace there, a deep satisfaction and hope.

  He stroked the skin beside Dent's eyes, his look as wonderful to see as the orgasms they'd shared together. “You are doing,” he corrected.

  Dent grinned, the corners of his eyes wrinkling up. Oh! More than just a small smile.

  Lutrell beamed back. “Come and eat, Dent? A proper meal together in the kitchen?” Something normal.

  "I ... Yes. Yes, I would like that.” Dent took a deep breath.

  "So would I.” He took a soft kiss and gave Dent a soft giggle. He felt giddy from this huge step forward they'd just taken.

  Dent chuckled. “You are quite mad."

  "I am mad with happiness.” He kissed Dent again and stood, reaching for his lover.

  Dent stood, the water pouring off the lean body. Maybe, just maybe this was going to work.

  Chapter Nine

  Dent felt better. Not right. Not normal. But better.

  They had made love once more, eaten. Watched the vidfeed. Normal things. Quiet things. He wasn't sure how he felt about it all. He was fairly sure thinking about it would drive him mad.

  Bertoli chuckled. “Stop that, Dent."

  "What?” He looked up from the book he was ... staring at.

  "Thinking so hard.” Bertoli leaned in to nip at his lower lip. “I can hear you."

  "Nonsense. You're not psychic."

  A soft giggle sounded. “I didn't say I knew what you were thinking."

  "I'm reading.” Sort of.

  The book was pulled from his hands, Bertoli sitting at the other end of the couch and holding it behind his back. “What's it called?"

  "A book.” Ass.

  That giggle sounded again. “What is the title of the book and who wrote it? Can you tell me anything about it?"

  "It's about...” Fuck. Plants. A moon on Rieve II. Money. “Money."

  Bertoli rolled his eyes. “Always money. I need to find you new books. Maybe then you would actually read them.” Bertoli winked and stood, gaunt and bald, reac
hing for him. “Come on. I've got something better than pretending to read."

  "It's not naptime yet, is it?"

  "Well you'll be lying down, but if you're sleeping, I'm doing something wrong.” There was heat in Bertoli's eyes now.

  "I...” His stomach went tight, his mind whirling. He wasn't sure if he could, if it was time.

  "You're doing it again.” Bertoli leaned in and brought their lips close, licking his, breathing on them. “No more thinking about things, my dear. Just come and enjoy our time together."

  "I...” He couldn't think with those kisses. So sweet. He leaned into Bertoli, needing more.

  His gaunt lover laughed softly. “Yes, just like that."

  He was given more kisses, slow and soft, Bertoli's long fingers coming to cup his face, skin almost cool as they stroked him. He lost himself in them, eyes wanting to close, but he forced them open. Watching. Bertoli's tongue slid against his, lips moving and caressing.

  They were both panting, breathing heavily when their lips finally parted and Bertoli stood. “Come, my dear."

  Dent found himself standing, following before he even thought about it.

  Insane. Mad. But right. Perfectly right.

  Bertoli gave him a beaming smile, laughing softly. The sound was so happy and that smile was lighting up his lover's face.

  The room was warm, Bertoli touching up the heat before nodding to the table. “All ready for you, my dear."

  "I don't want to disappoint you, Bertoli."

  "You have never disappointed me. Never.” The word was softly, but reverently spoken, Bertoli's eyes hot, sure.

  He stepped into the circle of Bertoli's arms. “Never?"

  Bertoli shook his head. “Not once, Dent. I swear on my own life."

  His back was stroked, Bertoli's touches light. He relaxed, leaned into the touch, let Bertoli ease him down onto the table, stretch him out.

  The soft laughter was familiar, as soothing as the hands that slid over his skin. “The cuffs first, my dear. Just you and I and our ritual."

  He couldn't stop the shiver, the motions driven by adrenaline, by anticipation.

  Bertoli's hands were so gentle, but the cuffs were locked tight around his wrists. “Can you feel them, my dear? Holding you down for me?"

  "Yes. It's different than when ... when they ... they hurt.” This was different.