By JD Davis October 2004
It was 7.30 a.m. and Stephen moved to the window, twitching aside the drapes to give himself a view of the street below. Slicked with rain, car headlights reflected dully in the puddles; the newsvendor was huddled inside his booth at the corner, the papers and magazines draped with plastic. Pedestrians, huddled under umbrellas, scurried along or waved frantically at the yellow cabs splashing by. Stephen risked another glance at his watch. 7.35. The weather must have delayed him; he was late.
Ah, there he was, moving swiftly through the crowds, head bowed into the rain, hands in the pockets of his disreputable duffel coat. He stopped to buy a paper, tucking it inside his coat, chatting briefly to the vendor before continuing on his way. Stephen waited anxiously, his throat dry. His hand twitched involuntarily on the drapes and he moved back slightly, afraid the movement would be seen from the street even though he was on the third floor. He watched the young man duck across the street, wending his way through the traffic. He reached the curb and paused for a second, his head moving upwards, eyes quickly traversing the building in front of him.
Stephen caught the blue flash, then the head bowed and the young man was on the move again. Letting his breath go in a mighty sigh, Stephen moved away from the window. He was being ridiculous he thought to himself, but smiled anyway. Why was he acting like a lovestruck teenager mooning over some pop idol?
Because you’re bored and lonely.
His inner voice answered as it had a thousand times before. He wasn’t really interested in the strange young man, he just liked to look and pretend. A good-looking boy like that wouldn’t be interested in him: that was a cold, hard, definite fact. Besides, the young man had a girlfriend; he’d seen them together occasionally.
Stephen walked into the bathroom and studied himself in the mirror, critically assessing each wrinkle, each gray hair. The years had been kind to him, although he could not bring himself to think so as he examined his reflection. He was tall and slim, his body hard and muscular from regular exercise. His dark brown hair had silvered above the ears in the last few years, giving him a distinguished, scholarly look. His brown eyes were fanned by fine lines, laughter lines earned from enjoying life, giving and receiving pleasure, a lifetime ago. They made him look old now, he thought. He was forty-two and alone. He wondered if anyone had ever died of terminal boredom.
He shrugged away the self-pity and gathered his raincoat and briefcase, ready to face another day in corporate America. His driver was waiting at the curb, car door open, umbrella sheltering him for the few steps to the cozy interior. He was vaguely aware of the annoying scream of a motorcycle overtaking loudly and glanced up to see the chrome machine flash by, its rider a blur of jeans, black leather and a dark-visored helmet. Stephen shrugged inwardly, dismissing the young rider as a fool on his way to an early death. The car eased into the traffic and Stephen passed the time checking his schedule. Wednesday the 15th, Mary’s birthday on the 16th; the reminder necessary as he had totally forgotten his sister’s party the following day.
“Stop at the florist’s on the way home tonight, John,” he told the driver. “I’m relying on you to remember.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Porter. Mrs. Collins’ birthday coming up?” Stephen smiled. He was such a creature of habit and John had been with him for several years.
“Am I that predictable?” he queried, then sighed. “Don’t answer that, John, I already know the answer.”
* * * * * * * *
The car pulled in behind a motorcycle parked arrogantly over the double yellow lines and Stephen stepped out in front of the florist’s shop.
“I shouldn’t be too long, John,” he commented. “Just go round the block a couple of times; no need to get a ticket.” He glanced at the bike, thinking its rider would probably suffer that fate, and then strolled into the shop as the Mercedes glided away. The bike’s owner was standing at the counter talking to an assistant, sounding a little aggrieved.
“Look, I just wanna send some flowers to a friend – what’s so fucking difficult about that?” The assistant looked affronted and Stephen stopped to listen, idly looking over the young man who seemed so out of place in the store.
Long legs encased in tight jeans, boots, a worn leather jacket, short dark hair and a strong profile.
The rider from this morning or just another biker?
Stephen felt a twinge of interest and deliberately ignored it. He waited patiently to make his order as the young man rubbed a hand though his hair, obviously frustrated. The assistant was being deliberately unhelpful, disdain written clearly on her face.
“What kind of flowers, sir?”
“How the fuck should I know? My friend’s wife just had a baby and I wanna send flowers. How hard can that be?”
“It’s not hard, sir, just tell me what kind of flowers and where I should send them.”
“Christ! Just forget it!” The young man turned away, almost colliding with Stephen. On impulse, Stephen spoke to him.
“Perhaps I can help,” he said gently.
“You the owner?” the man asked aggressively, “’Cos if you are you need to do something about the help!” Stephen looked at the angry expression, registering stormy blue eyes and a hawk-like nose.
“What is it that you need?” Stephen asked, ignoring the comment and the assistant’s muffled exclamation.
“Well, like I was trying to tell Mrs. Hitler here, I want to send flowers to the hospital.”
“Okay, that shouldn’t be too difficult.” Stephen looked at the assistant.
“Good evening, Mrs. Fletcher,” he said with a smile. She forced an answering smile to her face although her eyes were still hard.
“Mr. Porter, sir,” she said. “How can I help you?”
“Well, we’ll get to that in a moment, but first this young man needs to send some flowers to his friend’s wife who has just had a baby. Boy or girl?” He turned to the stranger.
“Boy,” was the short reply.
“Okay, how about an arrangement with an ‘It’s a Boy’ card or maybe a congratulatory balloon? Is that what she would like?”
“Sounds good.” Stephen smiled and waved a hand.
“Well, pick out something you like from the display and give Mrs. Fletcher the name and address. That’s all it takes.”
“No, I don’t like these big fancy arrangements,” the stranger dissented. Stephen realised the young man probably did not have a lot of money to spend.
“You know, when my sister gave birth to my nephew, I sent her a little vase of spring flowers which she really liked. Perhaps something like that would be appropriate? There should be a picture of something along those lines as there are none on display.” He addressed the final comment to the assistant who begrudgingly offered the catalogue to the young man. He soon found what he wanted, gave her the details of where they should be sent and paid for his order. With a nod to Stephen he strode out of the store.
The assistant heaved a huge sigh and turned to Stephen.
“Sorry about that,” she commented.
“You should be,” Stephen replied, gave her his order with a chilly look and signed the credit card slip. He walked back out of the shop to find the young man waiting astride his bike, helmet already in place. As Stephen’s raised eyebrow queried him, the man extended his hand and said,
“Thanks, man. Stupid bitch was really giving me the runaround!” Stephen hesitated, then took the proffered hand and shook it.
“You’re welcome,” he said briefly, then glanced around for his car.
“Looking for a cab?” The voice was surprisingly soft now that the anger had dissipated.
“No, my car should be here soon.”
“Oh, should’ve realised you’d have a car and a chauffeur. How come a fancy dude like you bothered to help me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Wouldn’t have expected it,” was the short reply. “That your Merc coming round the corner?” Stephen glanced behind him and nodded.
“Nice bike.” The words were out before Stephen could stop himself.
“Yeah, I like it. Ever ridden a Harley?” There was a short silence as John pulled up beside Stephen.
“No, I don’t believe I ever have.”
God, I want to get on that bike and put my arms around you!
“Fancy a spin?” Stephen felt his heart beat a little faster, a heady desire to do something unconventional blossoming rapidly. He felt breathless and disturbed, his regulated, routine world tilting askew. He recognized danger when he was confronted by it, especially when it came in a gorgeous, six foot, muscular, dark blue-eyed package.
“I believe I do,” he said with a regretful smile, “but the car is waiting. Another time, perhaps?”
“Okay.” The bike roared off and Stephen felt suddenly bereft.
* * * * * * * *
The next evening, Stephen was leaving his office and about to duck into the interior of the Mercedes when he heard the roar of a bike approaching. He straightened and looked around him, searching hopefully for the young man from the florist’s. Within seconds the bike screeched to a halt. The long, jeans-clad legs and booted feet braced right in front of him.
“No, not tonight, thank you.”
How stupid I sound! But it’s Mary’s party.
“Suit yourself. Some other time, then?”
He actually sounds disappointed!
“Yes, some other time.”
My God, look at that smile! And those eyes . . .
* * * * * * * *
Friday evening and he was there waiting as Stephen came out of the building.
“No, I don’t think so – er - thank you.”
“Scared?” The soft voice taunted him, those deep-set eyes challenging him.
Terrified, actually – don’t look at me like that!
“Let me just send the car on.” He walked over and spoke to John, handing him his briefcase and folded raincoat, then turned back to find the young man holding his helmet out to him.
“You’d better wear this,” he said. Cool voice, hot eyes assessing him.
Don’t tell me a gorgeous young thing like you is interested in an old fart like me?
“I guess I’m gonna have to give you a ride home, you sending the car away like that.”
“No, no,” Stephen exclaimed, denying the interest, denying himself. He was embarrassed, realizing he had, indeed, assumed he would be given a ride home. “I’ll catch a cab later.”
“Hop on, then, let’s go,” the stranger said, again holding out the helmet. Stephen hesitated, suddenly doubting the sense of going with the young man.
“Changed your mind, eh?”
I’m mad. He could drive me out into a dark place and mug me – or worse!
“No, I don’t believe so. My name is Stephen, Stephen Porter by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Stephen. Now hop on before I get a ticket!”
Stephen donned the helmet and straddled the bike, resting his hands lightly on the young man’s waist.
“Won’t you introduce yourself?” he asked as his companion gunned the engine.
“ Name’s Kit, and you’re gonna have to hold on tighter than that if you don’t wanna end up on your ass!”
Stephen clutched at Kit as they took off with a roar, weaving through the traffic and heading for the highway. Rush hour was almost over and the traffic thinned as they sped along. Stephen soon relaxed, as Kit’s skill driving the powerful machine became obvious. Hanging on for dear life, he felt exhilarated, the bike thrumming beneath him, Kit’s muscular back and trim waist moving beneath his touch. When they finally pulled in at a truck stop, Stephen felt a twinge of disappointment. Kit idled the engine and straightened up, planting his feet each side of the bike before turning his head to look at Stephen with a cocky grin.
Pulling off the helmet, Stephen found himself grinning back.
“Well, that was . . . exciting,” he finally said. “I feel like I’ve just done something really crazy!” Kit smiled.
“Exciting, crazy - yeah, right. There’s a pay phone in there if you wanna call a cab. Unless you’ve changed your mind and I give you a ride home.”
“I wouldn’t want to take you out of your way, Kit.”
“Not a problem, man. Wanna grab a drink or something?” Kit tilted his head towards the truck stop and Stephen visibly shuddered.
What on earth am I doing here with this piece of rough trade?
“Not fancy enough, hm? It’s just a beer.” Stephen refrained from asking if Kit was old enough to be buying a drink in a bar. He looked about twenty but his self-assurance indicated someone older.
“Okay.” Stephen followed the jaunty steps of his young companion, admiring the rear view appreciatively.
I am absolutely mad. He can’t be a day over twenty-one, if that. I’m old enough to be his father!
Seated on a cracked vinyl barstool with an opened bottle of beer - no glass - Stephen caught a glimpse of himself in the spotted mirror and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He looked singularly out of place in his dark business suit, which screamed money, his well-groomed appearance at odds with the dingy surroundings. Kit, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease, swinging round to look over the other customers. His leather jacket hung on the back of his stool and Stephen watched the play of muscles under the tight white T-shirt. He felt his mouth go dry as Kit suddenly slid off the stool and walked over to speak to a couple of men at a table. His jeans clung to those long legs and high, tight ass in a most seductive manner.
He watched the ensuing conversation, unable to hear anything but the murmur of voices, both men looking towards him as Kit spoke to them. Beside Kit’s lean, muscular form they looked heavy and clumsy, all hair, leather and tattoos. Stephen felt a small chill of fear. Was he being set up? Suddenly he felt very foolish and very vulnerable. He lurched to his feet, looking around wildly.
“Something the matter?” Kit was behind him, standing so close Stephen could feel his body heat. Stephen felt himself flush.
“Men’s room,” he stammered, looking around. Kit grinned at him, the dark blue eyes assessing, seeming to read the panic Stephen knew must show in his eyes.
“Over there.” Kit jerked a thumb towards the corner. “The phone is that way.” He folded his arms and waited to see which direction Stephen would take, the cool look making Stephen flush even more. He turned towards the lobby, saw a flash of disappointment on Kit’s face and suddenly veered away towards the men’s room. Splashing cold water on his face, Stephen looked at himself in the mirror. This was not the face he viewed each morning. A tinge of color, probably from windburn he thought ruefully: a spark of interest in his eyes; a smile hovering; this was a different person from the miserable creature languishing over a blue-eyed boy who passed his window every morning.
With a final smile at his reflection, Stephen heard a motorcycle fire up and hurried out, anxiously searching for Kit.
He wouldn’t leave me here, would he? And why not? He knows you were going to call a cab. But I don’t want him to be gone!
Glancing around, Stephen could not see Kit and felt his smile wither and die. He was a stupid old fool, thinking he could attract someone as young and virile as Kit. He sighed and moved towards the lobby, his hand searching his pocket for change for the phone.
As he reached for the phone a warm hand rested on his shoulder. He spun around, the handset clattering down to swing on its cord.
“Watcha doing, Stevie?” Kit’s dark blue eyes searched his face. Stephen felt warm color flush his cheeks.
“I heard a bike . . . thought you’d gone, so I was going to call a cab.”
“Nah, I just went out to look at Phil’s bike. Gonna let me give you a ride home?”
Now or never, Stephen.
“Okay, yes. Yes, please, I’d like that.”
“Let’s go then.” Kit’s hand on his arm burned through his jacket, through his flesh, heating his blood.
“What now?” There was a hint of impatience in the soft voice.
“I – I haven’t paid the bar bill”
“Already taken care of, Stevie, let’s go!” Kit chuckled as Stephen’s face registered total surprise. He stammered a thank you, feeling the color rising to his cheeks as Kit just grinned and urged him over to the bike.
The ride back to Stephen’s apartment was as exhilarating as the first trip and was as quickly over. As he directed Kit into the parking garage, Stephen debated about asking Kit to come up with him.
I’m an old fool! Now he knows your address and he can come back with his friends. If I let him in he’ll scope the place and know what’s worth taking. No one knows he’s here with me, he could murder me and nobody would find the body until the morning . . .
“Would you like to come up for a drink?” The words were out even as he argued with himself and he was surprised at the casual acceptance.
* * * * * * * *
Stephen handed Kit a tall glass of imported beer and poured a glass of wine for himself.
“Nice place,” Kit commented, wandering around the living area before sprawling on the couch. “You live here alone?”
“No wife and kids? Girlfriend?” As Stephen shook his head, Kit tilted his head and smiled.
The words lay between them and Stephen hesitated a beat too long.
“None of my business,” Kit said easily. “Still, I don’t understand why a good-looking guy like you doesn’t have somebody.”
“I did,” Stephen finally managed, stricken momentarily speechless by the casual compliment. “Not anymore.”
Kit patted the couch beside him.
“Come and sit down, Stevie,” he said. “How come you look uncomfortable in your own place?”
Stephen sat down in the armchair opposite and Kit shrugged.
“I don’t bite,” he said, his eyes mischievous. “At least, not unless you want me to.”
“Are you flirting with me?” Stephen could have bitten his tongue at his unthinking riposte but still waited anxiously for the reply.
“Do you want me to?” They looked at each other silently for a brief moment.
Kit put his glass on the coffee table and slowly got to his feet.
He’s like some kind of wild animal – a wolf, maybe, or a bird of prey.
“We should talk,” Stephen said instead of giving into his first impulse of immediate surrender.
“In a minute,” Kit said and crooked his finger. “Come here.” The hooded eyes were compelling and Stephen got reluctantly to his feet. Kit remained where he was and said again,
Feeling as if he was walking through deep water, Stephen moved slowly towards the young stranger, halting at arm’s length. Forcing himself to meet those amazing eyes, Stephen’s breath caught in his throat. The warm expression was the last thing he had expected. Kit took the last step, closing the gap, his arms sliding around Stephen’s waist.
“Just like getting on the bike,” Kit said softly. “Crazy and exciting.” Then he bent his head, finding Stephen’s mouth in a surprisingly tender kiss. Stephen slipped his hands up to rest on Kit’s shoulders as their lips parted and then he made the reconnection, deepening the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance. Kit finally allowed him in and their tongues tangled, dueling for supremacy.
What’s happening? Oh my God . . . I have to stop this, now!
Breaking to gasp for air, Stephen leaned back into Kit’s strong grip and said,
“We still need to talk.”
“Okay.” Again, the casual acceptance surprised Stephen and he searched Kit’s face, suspecting a hidden agenda. Kit tugged at him and pulled him down onto the couch, his right arm still around his waist.
“So talk, Stevie,” he said, amusement evident. Stephen moved away slightly and Kit allowed him to go, sliding his arm out and turning to face Stephen.
“What’s going on?” Stephen asked. “What do you want from me?”
“What do I want from you? Maybe the same as you want from me.” Kit paused, weighing his words for what seemed like the first time that evening. “You’re still scared, hm? What’s scaring you, Stevie?”
“Don’t call me Stevie!” Stephen declared, finally exasperated.
“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie!”
“Now you’re being childish!”
Kit frowned, his dark blue eyes shadowed enigmatically.
“Is that what scares you? I’m twenty-six, Stephen, well past the age of consent. And I’ve been around the block a few times.”
“Christ, listen to yourself!”
“Oh, that’s what scares you then? I’m clean, honestly. What’s the matter?” The last question as Stephen rose to his feet.
“I think you’d better go,” Stephen said, regretfully.
“If that’s what you really want.” Kit searched his face, waiting.
Get out! Please don’t look at me like that! I want you so much. What the hell can you possibly see in me? I’m old, worn, tired . . . I’m lonely and you’re beautiful.
“Do you want me to go, Stephen?” Kit rose slowly to his feet, his eyes never releasing Stephen’s.
“Yes, no, I don’t know!” Kit’s delectable mouth quirked into a lop-sided grin.
“Well, that was crystal clear! Do you want me to stay?”
“No, yes, I don’t know!” Kit moved in close again, smiling in a predatory fashion.
“Even clearer. Let’s make it simple. What do you want, Stevie? Do you want me?”
What? Do I want him? He didn’t just ask that, did he? He asked me if I wanted him to stay. Did he just ask me if I wanted him?
“Yes, of course I do!”
Shit, did I just say that?
“But you couldn’t possibly be interested in me, so please just go.”
I’m losing it – for a minute there I almost thought -
“Why couldn’t I be interested in you? You’re a great looking guy, good body – “
“If you say so. Hey, is that what you’re thinking? Think I’m after your money, is that it? Fuck! You think I’m a rent boy! You know what, you’re right, I should go!” The dark blue eyes were stormy and his obvious anger crackled between them.
He’s leaving! Stop him, say something, anything!
“No, stop, please! I’m sorry, Kit, I didn’t mean – “
“Yes, you did. You’ve been giving me funny looks all night!” Kit stopped abruptly, looking down at Stephen’s hand clutching his forearm.
“I’m sorry,” Stephen said again and slowly removed his hand. “I’m a stupid old fool and had no right to be suspicious of your motives.” Kit sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Nah, I guess you had every right. I mean, let’s face it, why would a guy like you have any interest in me?” Stephen laughed, suddenly feeling light-headed with relief.
“Why couldn’t I be interested in you? You’re a great looking guy, good body – “. Kit grinned as he heard his own words.
Okay, he’s relaxing, now for God’s sake don’t blow it! You’ve got a second chance.
“Would you like another beer? Why don’t you sit down?”
Sit down, take your jacket off, get comfortable, stay, please.
“Okay.” Stephen headed out to the kitchen for the beer and the wine bottle. By the time he got back Kit had taken off his jacket and was again lounging on the sofa. He accepted the beer and, ignoring the glass on the coffee table, held the bottle to his lips. Stephen stood and watched as he chugged some of the beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Then he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and smacked his lips.
Oh my God!
“And you’re not!” Stephen, absorbed in watching this amazing creature, was completely thrown by Kit’s words.
“You’re not a stupid old fool, Stephen. Why do you think of yourself as old? I know you don’t think you’re stupid or a fool!”
“I’m the wrong side of forty, Kit, old enough to be your father. I’m old and gray and tired. Just looking at you makes me feel old. And I’m very probably a fool!”
“Well, I don’t think forty is old. Besides, you look ten years younger, you move like a young man, you’ve got a great body, you’re good looking, what the hell else can I say?” Kit’s look of frustration finally got through to Stephen and he started to laugh, the light-headed feeling surging through him again.
“What’s so funny?” Kit’s aggrieved tone just made Stephen laugh more.
“Don’t laugh at me!” Kit sounded really angry, his tone aggressive as he leapt to his feet and Stephen sobered up immediately.
“I wasn’t laughing at you, Kit, really. I’m sorry, don’t look like that. I was laughing at myself, actually.”
Still suspicious, Kit studied him.
“Why am I laughing at myself? Because I am an old fool and I don’t care. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I actually feel happy for the first time in a long time.” Stephen stretched out a hand to Kit with a smile. To his surprise, Kit brushed him aside.
“I’m not a thing, beautiful or not!” he declared angrily.
“No, of course not, that’s not what I meant! Don’t be so touchy, Kit, please!” Stephen studied the stormy expression, his eyes travelling to the beautiful mouth currently twisted in a sullen grimace. He leaned forward and brushed his thumb lightly over the full lips.
“Don’t frown,” he said softly, “you’ll get wrinkles like mine.” Then he followed his thumb with his mouth, pressing a butterfly kiss to Kit’s lips. Kit’s hands buried themselves in his hair as he pulled him closer, his mouth opening and tempting Stephen in.
This is impossible, ridiculous, amazing . . . incredible .
Kit was kissing him as if he couldn’t get enough of him. When they finally parted, both gasping for much needed oxygen, Stephen felt something give inside. That cold, hard place in which he had been hiding had been reached by this rough, uneducated boy.
They gazed at each other silently, until Stephen dropped his eyes in confusion.
“Now what’s the matter?” Kit demanded.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing. I’m just finding it hard to believe that you . . .”
“Believe it!” Kit interrupted roughly, although his lopsided grin appeared again. “Take a chance, Stephen, live dangerously for once!”
“For once? Don’t make any assumptions about me, Kit, you know nothing about me!” Stephen felt absurdly hurt that Kit would assume he was an old stick in the mud.
“And you know all about me, eh?”
“No, of course I don’t. We know very little about each other.”
“Well, I like what I know so far!” Kit moved back slightly, his eyes travelling slowly over Stephen’s body, making him shift uncomfortably.
“Is it that simple for you, Kit?” he asked.
“You think too much, Stevie!”
“- call you Stevie, yeah, I know, I get it! But, ya know, Stephen is the rich old guy who is all prim and proper. I think I’ve found my Stevie. What do you think – Stevie?”
My Stevie! Oh, God!
Stephen just stared at Kit, unable to answer, his eyes running over the youthful body before him, desire coursing through him.
I want to taste you, I want to touch you, I want to run my hands all over your body. I want to make you groan with pleasure. I want to make you cry my name as you come. I want to hold you in my arms and sleep through the night. I want to wake up with you in the morning. I want you to open your eyes and feel my cock pressing against your ass . . .
Stephen felt himself growing hard as he continued to gaze at Kit. Kit endured his scrutiny without comment, standing easily before him, a small smile playing over his lips as his eyes slid down to Stephen’s groin, the bulge betraying every thought. Stephen dwelled on that luscious mouth, the lips swollen and reddened from their previous kisses. He wanted Kit more than he'd wanted anyone for a very long time.
God! I want to fuck you. I want to see your face when you come. I want to take away the anger and underlying hurt I can see in those amazing blue eyes.
He wanted; God how he wanted.
Stephen lifted his eyes to drown once again in the midnight of Kit’s gaze. A single word of acquiescence whispered so softly. Stephen saw his hand trembling as it reached out in response. Kit took his hand and Stephen silently led him through into the bedroom. He slid Stephen’s jacket off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. As Stephen reached for him, Kit shook his head and whispered,
With delicate precision, he undid each button and eased Stephen’s shirt open before bowing his head and tasting the skin at the base of his throat. Stephen groaned and tugged at Kit’s T-shirt but, again, Kit pushed his hands away. He trailed kisses down Stephen’s chest, his lips fastening on the hardening nub of a nipple. A gasp as he nipped at the sensitive flesh, soothing it with a tender kiss before transferring to the other nipple. Stephen could barely stand, his legs trembling, his efforts concentrated on not touching the amazing man before him.
I am going to die! I shall have a heart attack and die from this. What’s he doing now? Jesus! Please don’t let me come, not yet!
Shirt gone, Kit knelt and removed his shoes and socks, not allowing Stephen to do anything other than move limbs now heavy and clumsy with desire. On his knees before him, Kit looked up and smiled, his long fingers reaching for belt and zipper. Pants and underwear slid to the floor and then Kit took him in his mouth. Stephen cried out at the wet heat of Kit engulfing him in exquisite pleasure. Then he moaned as Kit released him and rose to his feet. Strong hands guided him to the bed and forced him down.
“Please . . .” Stephen whispered, begging unashamedly.
“Soon, Stevie. Watch me now.”
Kit stood up and slowly peeled off his tee, revealing sculpted muscles. Mouth dry with mounting desire, Stephen watched as his young lover stripped for him, turning his back and bending over as he slipped off his boots and jeans, giving Stephen the heart-stopping sight of long legs and his naked ass. Then he turned slowly and displayed himself, his cock jutting hard and strong. A white-toothed grin in the semi-darkness and Stephen was lost.
He has to ask? Oh, God, please let me touch him before I die!
Stephen tried to answer but a strangled croak was all he could manage.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Kit knelt at the foot of the bed and eased between Stephen’s legs. Trailing kisses from ankle to thigh, then repeating the action with his other leg, Kit tormented Stephen until he was close to exploding. Hot breath on his cock and then the engulfing heat was too much and Stephen tried to warn Kit.
“Kit,” he groaned and tried to pull back. Strong hands on his hips held him in place and Stephen surrendered, pouring himself into Kit’s throat as he sucked him dry.
Oh God, what a disaster! But it’s been so long, so long. And he’s so beautiful. How could I lose control like that?
Flinging an arm across his eyes, unable to look at Kit, Stephen shuddered through his release and wanted to die of embarrassment. He felt Kit move upwards until their bodies were pressed together and a gentle hand tugged at his arm.
“Hey.” Eyes closed, he refused to answer.
He hates me! He must after that! He can’t possibly understand. He’s so young, so virile, so strong, so beautiful. What the hell did you expect? Not this, not this . . .
“Stevie, c’mon, it’s okay!” The words were soft; hot breath next to his ear.
“It’s not okay, Kit, you shouldn’t have – “
“I wanted to, okay. C’mon Stevie, look at me!” Reluctantly, Stephen allowed Kit to pull away his defensive arm, forcing himself to meet the eyes of the man hovering anxiously over him. The sweetest smile and eyes full of warmth met his gaze.
This cannot be true! I’m dreaming, I have to be!
“Relax, man, it’s been a long time for you, right?” Stephen snorted with laughter.
“You could say that!”
“So, now what? What would you like?”
Okay, now I know I’m definitely dreaming. Or I’m hallucinating. I saw this boy on his bike and this is pure fantasy . . .
“Stevie? Talk to me, man.” A finger tapped lightly on his temple. “What’s going on in there?”
Everything, nothing. I can’t think . . .
Stephen felt adrift, his eyes burning, betrayed by his body while his soul writhed in humiliation. He was lost and didn’t care.
Kit, what have you done to me?
“Hey, are you okay? I’m sorry, Stevie, I didn’t mean . . . I’ll go, okay?” Kit started to ease away and Stephen cried out desperately.
“No!” Stephen grabbed hold of Kit, pulling him close, clinging to him like a drowning man. The unshed tears pooled beneath his eyelids slipped free and trickled slowly from each corner.
Oh great, that’s right, cry all over him like the stupid old queen you are!
“Ah shit, don’t! I’m sorry, I’ll go. I thought -.”
“Don’t go, Kit.” He could only manage a hoarse whisper, his emotions still gripping him in a stranglehold of desire, joy, relief and sorrow.
“Okay, I won’t go anywhere. Jeez, you’re a piece of work! Wanna ease up on the death grip there, Stevie?”
Stephen snorted a laugh and relaxed his hold.
“Thanks,” Kit said, smiling. He moved away slightly and propped his head on one elbow, his other hand tracing lazy circles through Stephen’s chest hair. As Stephen gradually relaxed under the feather light touch, Kit started to murmur in his ear, almost crooning, watching Stephen’s face as he did so.
“You’ve got a lot of hidden strength, Stevie, did you know that? I mean, you don’t have those bulky muscles like some guys, but you’re strong. You must work out a lot. You have this great body, all lean muscle, not an ounce of fat, and you know how to use it. I like that, Stevie, I like that a lot. You know what else I like, Stevie? Hm?”
“What?” Stephen was drowsy, soothed by the soft voice and the touch of Kit’s hand on his skin, totally relaxed after his precipitate orgasm.
“I like to fuck, Stevie, and I like to be fucked. Wanna fuck, Stevie?”
Oh, sweet Jesus, this cannot be happening! I’m hard again just listening to him.
Kit moved over him, his body pinning Stephen to the bed. His hands braced either side of Stephen’s head, Kit aligned their cocks and started to move, setting a slow rhythm. Lips close to his right ear, Kit continued his seduction.
“That’s it, Stevie, nice and slow. I like it slow, don’t you? No rush, just enjoy it. Yeah, that’s it, move with me, Stevie. Ah, that’s good, so good. C’mon, Stevie, just like that . . .”
Hypnotized by the seductive whisper, Stephen thrust his hips upwards, the feeling of Kit’s cock against his driving him towards the edge. Slick with pre-come, they slid together with increasing fervor, Kit’s voice still whispering salaciously in his ear.
I want to see him come!
Stephen moved suddenly, his arms wrapped around Kit as he thrust strongly, flipping them over until he was on top. Kit’s eyes registered surprise, but he smiled his acquiescence.
“D’ya have any lube, Stevie?” The soft question did not really register as Stephen concentrated on restoring the delicious friction of their cocks.
“Lube? Astroglide? KY, Vaseline, baby oil? Running out of ideas here, Stevie.”
Stephen managed to collect his thoughts and fumbled in the drawer of the nightstand.
“Probably out of date,” he muttered and Kit choked down a laugh as he opened the tube, squeezing a generous amount of gel onto his hand.
“It looks new,” he commented.
“Not new, unopened,” Stephen replied and smiled when Kit laughed infectiously.
“I told you . . .” Stephen huffed, which only made Kit laugh more.
I love to hear him laugh. Look how his face lights up when he smiles! There is nothing better than laughing in bed!Ah, Jesus, Kit, that feels so good!
“Feels good to me too, Stevie.”
I said that out loud? Shit, I’m losing it here.
Kit moved his fingers gently, stretching and scissoring, preparing Stephen carefully.
“I know it’s been a while,” he said softly. “Relax, Stevie, let me in.”
What the hell? He’s treating me like some kind of virgin, for crying out loud! Well, I can still show him a thing or two!
With a sudden thrust of his hips, Stephen drew Kit inside, impaling himself deeply on the amazing cock, which had been breaching him almost delicately. Kit gasped in shock.
Surprised you, didn’t I? Still some tricks this old dog can teach a young pup like you!
“Geez, Stevie, go easy, man! That must’a hurt!”
Hurts like a motherfucker but it feels so damn good! It’s been so long.
“No, I want you, fuck me, dammit!”
“There’s plenty of time, Stevie, we’ve got all night – haven’t we?”
He’s going to stay? He’s going to stay!
“If you want,” Stephen grunted, moving roughly to enforce his demands, hands braced either side of Kit’s head.
What did I do to deserve this boy – no, man, he’s a man. A young man, true, but all man. Can’t think anymore . . . Oh, God!
Kit moved slowly, thrusting upwards, then angling until his cock stroked Stephen’s prostate, making him groan and cry out as his pleasure spiraled higher. Their movements quickened as Kit felt himself verging on coming. He wrapped his hand around Stephen’s cock, already hard again, and pumped him in rhythm with their fucking.
Too much, too much. Ah, Kit, I’m going to come again. I don’t believe it but you’re making me come – again!
“I’m coming, Stevie,” Kit grunted and thrust once, twice, ramming home as he spurted his come inside the older man. Stephen could only grunt before he, too, came, his semen ejecting over Kit’s hand and stomach. His arms gave out and he slid slowly down until he crushed Kit beneath him, their heaving breaths the only sound.
* * * * * * * *
“Hmm – what?”
“Do you want me to stay? Can I stay?”
“Yes. It’s late, go to sleep.”
You see, he wants you, why did you worry so much. Sure, he’s older than you are, but not too old. And he’s good, so good. Just don’t fuck up, Kit, just don’t fuck up! Perhaps tomorrow he’ll show you how much he wants you . . .
“Stop thinking, go to sleep and I’ll fuck you in the morning, okay?”
Stephen pulled Kit closer, tucking the dark head on his shoulder, arms firmly around him, and smiled. He wasn’t going to allow Kit to fuck up, no way, no how! Funny how he could hear his thoughts as clear as his own.
© 2003 j.d. davis
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