by Sean Michael
Oh. Oh, God.
He’d been kissed hundreds of times, but this was... special. It stole his breath, and Harrison didn’t seem inclined to end this kiss. It went on, made him feel weak, even as his hands wrapped around Harrison’s shoulders, holding on.
When the kiss was over, Harrison swept his feet out from under him and, holding him close against the broad chest, carried him out of the fountain and toward the big house.
“Oh.” He wasn’t a small man, but Harrison carried him like he was.
“I don’t want you doing any more damage to your feet. You need them for the next time you want to run.”
“I have to run a lot.”
“How come?” Harrison leaned, punched a series of numbers into the pad next to the door. It clicked and opened.
“It’s the only way to make things quiet.”
“In your head?” The door closed behind them, and Harrison elbowed on a light. They were in a large foyer, plants and windows everywhere.
“I... I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say you were. I just assumed you meant making things quiet figuratively rather than literally.” Harrison kept walking, going down a hall a short way before turning into another room. The lights went on, revealing a stunning bathroom.
He nodded, the shame hitting him again. “I have to do it, you know? Look at this...”
“I designed it. I mean, I told the architect exactly what I wanted, and he made it happen.” Harrison sat him down on a padded bench along the back wall, and then bent to look at his feet.
“It’s amazing. I love the tub. You could have a party in it.”
Harrison was staring at the hamburger that was the soles of his feet. “How were you standing at all? Let alone walking?”
He shrugged. “It’s the price you pay for quiet sometimes.”
“You clearly need better shoes. Or less people making noise.” Harrison shrugged. “Or a better way to find quiet.”
“I tried booze and drugs. Did you know I can’t seem to get high? Isn’t that fascinating?”
“Really? That is fascinating. But then that’s just what you are, isn’t it?” Harrison smiled at him, and rooted around in one of the wicker drawers next to the bench.
“What are you looking for?”
“Antiseptic. I know I have some. I’ve got that gauzy stuff to wrap them up in, too.”
“Oh.” He wondered, idly, if his feet would leave interesting patterns on the gauze.
“Here we are.” Harrison took a bunch of stuff out of the drawer and knelt down in front of him. “The spray might sting.”
“Okay.” He had one hell of a pain tolerance, really. Art was way more physical than most people knew.
Harrison smiled. “Is the pain part of the quiet?”
His cheeks heated. Sometimes the pain was the best part, but he’d never admit it. “It is what it is.”
“That was noncommittal.” Harrison took his foot, examined it. “All right. I’m going to clean it with a damp towel first, then the spray.”
“That works. What’s your favorite color?”
“Green.” Harrison started dabbing at his feet with a damp towel.
“Green.” Oh, that ached.
“Yeah. Like the trees and grass outside.” The dabbing continued, the towel picking up a lot of red.
“Uh-huh.” He let his eyes close, let himself feel.
Harrison put his foot down and took the other one. “Enjoying the sensation?”
“I.” He started trembling a little. He couldn’t say that. “I. I’m sure they’re okay, huh? Now?”
Harrison reached out and stroked his thigh. “Easy, Giles. I’ve got you. I’ll make sure they’re okay.”
“Okay.” The urge to get up and scatter hit him again, down deep.
“Spray now.” That was all the warning he got before Harrison sprayed his left foot. The first thing that hit him was the cold. Then the sting happened and his foot tugged away.
Harrison let it go and grabbed the other one, spraying it, too. His breath came in quick gulps, his cock trying to firm.
“There, that’ll be the worst of it.” Harrison put down the spray and grabbed the package of gauze.
“Cool.” He rode the burn as quietly and for as long as he could.
When he was done, Harrison smiled up at him. “There. Now we can have that beer and talk.”
“Yeah. Thanks. You’ve been sweet.” Hot.
“I’m not sure sweet is what I was going for, but I’ll take it for now.” Harrison winked, then stood and hoisted him back up, carrying him out of the bathroom.
“You’re strong.” It was fascinating.
“I am. I work hard at it.” Harrison carried him into a room that had to be a den. It was cozy, with a fireplace and several large, comfy-looking chairs. He was gently set down on one, and it was as comfy as it looked, maybe comfier.
He cuddled in, hummed. “Are you a gym bunny?”
“I hate that expression.” Harrison went to the bar in the corner and opened the little fridge, pulling out a couple of beers. “Beer okay? I have harder stuff if you want it.”
“I’m sorry. A beer is fine.” Talking to people was so hard.
“It’s okay. It’s just... I work out, but I’m not in love with my muscles or anything.” Harrison handed him a beer.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just talking.” He took the beer and drained it.
Harrison’s hand landed on his shoulder, massaged it. “It’s okay, Giles.”
He nodded, chewed hard on his bottom lip, legs curled beneath him.
“Do I make you nervous?”
“No. I make me nervous.” He had this talent for saying the absolute wrong thing. Harrison half picked him up again and sat on the chair, putting him in the man’s lap.
“Nerves can be good.”
“I. I’m on your lap.”
“Yes. I like you here.”
“Oh.” Harrison was warm, solid underneath him. Steady. Stable.
“I’m very attracted to you.” Harrison smiled, stroked his thigh. “I feel you should know that.”
“Yes? Do you have many lovers?”
“No, I don’t. I have... friends I play with. I belong to a club where it’s safe, consensual.”
“A sex club? Really?” He chuckled. “That sounds like something out of a Blue Boy article.” Still, it sounded fun.
“It’s a BDSM club. I’m a Dom.”
“Now you’re just fucking with me. Really, I don’t need stories. I think you’re hot.” And had that fascinating silence inside.
Harrison chuckled. “I can bring you, if you’d like. There’s always a good show on Friday nights. What are you doing this Friday?”
“I have no idea. Painting. Running. Standing on my head. I have a fluid life.”
“Well, who knows, then? Maybe you’ll already be here.” Harrison’s smile was wicked, seductive. “And I think you are, too, by the way. Hot, that is.”
He chuckled, grinned. “That’s convenient, isn’t it? Since I’m here?”
“It is.” Harrison’s mouth touched his, lips warm, soft. That kiss. It made him stop, blink. Hold on.
Harrison’s hand slid along his side, down to cup his ass, and he leaned into the touch, letting Harrison know he was there, willing, able.
Humming softly, Harrison parted his lips with that agile tongue, slipping it in between his lips. Giles touched Harrison’s cheeks, the short hair. Harrison deepened the kiss, hand sliding back and forth from one ass cheek to the other. Sweet man. Giles rubbed slowly, sinking into it.
As they continued to kiss, Harrison turned him so he was straddling the long legs. His inner thighs stretched, and he pushed a little bit.
“Sexy thing.”
“Thank you. You
feel amazing, solid. Not gym bunny-ish at all.”
Harrison laughed and took his lips again. The man kissed like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. It was fascinating.
“You taste good.”
“Do I? Do I taste like beer?” Giles wasn’t sure that was good.
“It’s there, but you are underneath that.”
“Oh.” That made him smile, but a part of him started to worry. What if he tasted ruined? What if he tasted like a freak?
“You’re nutty and musky, all male. I could become addicted.”
The words made him want to rub, to preen.
Harrison dove into another kiss, tongue sweeping into his mouth again. Giles caught himself stretching up, tongue fighting happily with Harrison’s. Harrison took advantage of his stretch, fingers sliding over his sides. His cock rubbed over Harrison’s chest, belly, and he moaned, sinking into the sensations.
The kisses and touches went on but didn’t escalate. It was like Harrison didn’t care how long it took or how far they progressed -- the man was living in the moment. It worked for him. It more than worked.
He stroked Harrison’s jaw, nose, exploring. The big hands were on his ass again, squeezing and tugging him close. He thought he should ask what Harrison was into, what the plan was, but he was just going with it.
Eventually, Harrison’s fingers plucked at the buttons of his shirt, so he took Harrison’s hands, brought them to his mouth to lick. He had marks, still.
“Oral, huh?”
He nodded, nibbled at the fingertips.
“Mmm. Feels good.” Harrison’s other hand kept working at his buttons.
“I...” He leaned back, needing to explain before Harrison asked about the lines of scabs. “It was an accident.” Except it wasn’t, really.
Harrison’s head tilted, the dark eyes looking at him, into him. “What was an accident?”
He opened his shirt, showing the lines where the little razor had sliced. “I didn’t want to scare you.” Sometimes he needed to hurt, though, even though he knew the habit was bad, unhealthy.
Harrison’s fingers slid over the lines. “This doesn’t look like an accident -- you cut when things get to be too much?”
“I...” He felt his cheeks heat. “It. I just. It’s not.” He stopped, bit his bottom lip hard. “It’s nothing to worry about.” There.
“I didn’t say I was worried. I asked if you’d done it yourself, if you needed to hurt.” Harrison’s voice was like a rough blanket, warm and good. “In fact, I think it makes you even more fascinating.”
“I just. Sometimes it’s too loud.”
“What would you say if I told you I know ways to make it quiet that don’t involve cutting yourself or running away?”
“I told you, pills don’t work on me. I’ve tried them. Hypnotism, too, but you’re sweet. Kiss me again?”
Harrison laughed, but also bent to give him the kisses he wanted. He dove into the kisses, intending to stop the conversation, to get back to the good parts. Harrison pushed his shirt off his shoulders, but when he moved let it slide off his arms, Harrison stopped it at his wrists, did something so it couldn’t slide off. Trapping his hands behind his back.
Giles tugged, twisting his hands. “I’m stuck.”
Harrison gave him a smug smile. “I know.” Then the strong, warm hands began to slide over his chest and belly.
“Mmm.” There was a luscious heat there, something that let him lean into the touches.
One of Harrison’s fingernails scraped over his skin, and the scratches made him jerk closer. When Harrison did it again, mouth taking his, tongue pushing in, Giles wrapped his lips around Harrison’s tongue, sucking it.
Groaning, Harrison pulled him closer, fingers digging into his ass now. The pressure was right, and he sucked harder, making Harrison feel it. One of those fingers slipped, slid to rub over his hole. He pressed back, wanting to feel more, even through his clothes.
“You’ll stay.” It wasn’t a question; Harrison said it like it was a given.
“Will I?” He wasn’t opposed to that.
“Yes. I’m going to make you scream.” Harrison smiled, the look slightly predatory. “And I mean that in a good way.”
The look made him shiver, made him hard. “I don’t scream.”
“Shall we test that theory?”
“I think that sounds like fun.”
“Then I think it’s time you saw my bedroom.” Harrison stood, holding on to his ass to keep him close to the big body.
“You have to let my arms go.” He couldn’t play like this.
“Do I?” They headed up a staircase, Harrison so strong he never felt like he might fall.
“Yes.” His heart pounded, just from not being able to hold on.
The room Harrison took him into was huge. There was another fireplace in it, a long, cushioned window seat, comfy chairs, a beautiful dresser and matching wardrobe, and a large bed piled high with pillows and comforters. The light that Harrison turned on was low and intimate.
“It’s like a fantasy...” His place was huge, but not like this. Not... soft.
“Thank you. It’s built for comfort, ease of play. I guess in a lot of ways it is a fantasy.” Harrison took him to the bed and laid him on it, gazing down at him like he was something special.
“Ease of play. That sounds like a song.”
“Are you a songwriter, too?” Harrison leaned in and licked around his belly button; his hands were still stuck behind his back in the sleeves of his shirt, arching his belly right into Harrison’s mouth.
“No. No, but I like m...” He hummed, the touch tickling him.
Harrison’s tongue dipped into his navel, and then the man sucked up some of his skin into that hot mouth. The tiny sting was perfect. Harrison’s hot breath danced over his skin.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Fly, pretty man. I want you to fly.”
He wriggled, tried to get free again so he could touch.
“What do you want to do, Giles?” Harrison rubbed his cheek against Giles’ hip.
“Touch.” Feel.
“This time, I’ll touch you. Later you can touch me back.”
“I’m good at that. Touching.” He took a deep breath, calmed himself. Harrison made him feel young.
“You’ll show me after. We make you fly first.” That mouth slid over the lines left behind by the razor.
He shivered, moaned, and his cock throbbed against his zipper.
“Oh, the things I could do with you.” Harrison’s fingers teased at his waistband.
“Could you? That sounds promising.”
“Good. It was meant to be.” Harrison popped open the button on his jeans and tugged the zipper down. His prick was long, hard, the ring at the tip slick with his pre-come. Harrison fished it out, groaning, fingers playing with the ring. “Oh, Giles.”
“You’re not scared of it. Good.” He loved when someone wasn’t intimidated by a little steel.
“Scared? Shit, no. Fucking turned on. Do you have a guiche, too?” Harrison’s finger flicked the ring back and forth.
“A hafada.” He drew Harrison’s hand down to the heavy barbell at the back of his scrotum.
“Mmm. Oh, Giles. I have a hunch you and I are going to have a very, very good time together. I think we’re very well suited.” Harrison tugged on the barbell.
All Giles could do in response was groan, arch, the tip of his cock kissing Harrison’s belly.
“Fucking good.” Harrison’s mouth closed over his, tongue pushing into his mouth.
The kisses were like drugs, like the best sort of high, leaving him shaken and shaking. Harrison’s fingers slid beyond the hafada, pushing at his hole but not pushing in. At least not yet. He considering telling Harrison no, that he didn’t bottom, but
no one would believe him.
“I bet you’re so tight. Gonna feel so good inside you.”
“You like to fuck?” He liked it. He did it as often as he could.
“I do. I like to play hard, Giles. I want to play hard with you.”
Giles could fucking go for that. Especially tonight. Harrison smiled, like he could read the answer in Giles’ eyes.
He wanted to reach down, take that cock out, ride it, but his fucking hands were caught. He wriggled, gave Harrison what he hoped was a pointed look. “I can’t fuck you caught up like this.”
“That’s just fine, as I am going to fuck you.” Harrison stood and began stripping down.
“Are you sure about that?” Beautiful son of a bitch.
Harrison grinned down at him. It wasn’t a nasty or smug or superior smile at all. It was pure lust and certainty. Hot as fuck. “I am.”
Giles did love a confident man.
Naked, Harrison stood over him for a moment, staring down at him, prick hard, proud, reaching for the ripped belly.
“You should model.” He could paint those lines for hours.
“For you?” Harrison’s pecs danced for a moment and then the man grabbed a tube of lube from one of the bedside tables.
“I don’t do portraits, unfortunately...” For this man, he might reconsider.
Harrison laughed and climbed onto the bed between his legs. “That’s okay. I’m not sure I could be naked with you and not ravage you.”
That made him chuckle. Right. That urge would fade.
Harrison slicked his fingers up and two pushed into him. They were thick and hot and stretched him open.
“Oh. Let my hands go; I’ll touch you.”
“Not this time.” Harrison pressed his fingers deep again, finding Giles’ gland, nailing it hard.
“Oh.” His belly went tight, hard, and he groaned.
“Right there, hmm?” Harrison kept pushing against his gland, fingers of the other hand playing with the ring in his prick.
“Fuck, yes. You’re good at that.”
Harrison just smiled and kept pushing his buttons, so to speak. He tried to get his hands free, tugging at the shirt.
