A shiver down my spine. Some part of my brain relaxes for the first time in so long, too long. Forfuckingever. Yes. It goes both ways, but if I am going to be honest ... this is what I need right now.
My blood pounds under the touch of his palms on my chest. Triphammer fast. My thumbs slide on the skin of his hips as my hands drop to my sides and I have to concentrate to take each breath.
Exhilaration. Desire. Tension and need and the more ... I've been looking for without even knowing it. The chapel is silent around us, hushed as if even the past is waiting for my answer.
The electrical current that’s been rising between us like a lethal tide snaps and settles. Feel it beneath my hands, David’s skin hot against mine.
Reach up and thread my hand through his hair, cradle his skull in my palm. Whisper a kiss against his lips, and linger there to feel them swell and pulse against mine. Pull his lower lip between my teeth and suck it gently, tenderly. A promise made.
“I trust you, David.” I tell him. “Why don’t you show me where you keep things, okay?”
It’s quite the candy store, complete with M&Ms; something for every taste, every kink, every desire. So much stuff, and yet …
My heart stops as David falls to his knees, head bowed. Waiting for me to bless him. Heal him. Guide him. The suddenness of it shakes me, moves me and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral, my posture from yielding.
Reach down, cup his chin in my palm.
If he doesn’t know, he needs to be told.
If he doesn’t remember, he needs to be reminded.
“Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus…”
Holy, holy holy.Let my touch bring him to his feet. Kiss the top of his hand
( ... )
I can't remember what it's like to not feel this burn and ache in my shoulders, across my back. The cross distracts my mind, the rosary only makes my cock harder and I spread my thighs when TJ touches me there. When his fingers drift over my balls. Teasing glances and a small smile as he moves away again.
No kisses.
"Don't we all want that? I'm heir to nothing, but I want more than what I've had. I want someone that wants every part of me, the dark and the light. I want a desire that encompasses them both. The ability to sit and read in front of a fireplace, to paint and draw and fucking cut my initials into my lover's back when the mood shifts. Or be left on a cross and asked nearly impossible questions."
I move and the crucifix moves with me. Rub and tug and pull. Sweat drops in my eyes and I blink against the sting.
"When was the last time you were really in love, TJ? And didn't you feel as if you possessed that person? Weren't you just a little bit obsessed? And is that such a bad thing?"
Fold myself to the floor, sit at David’s feet. Trace the sinews that are strung tight with his effort to stay in the uncomfortable position he’s in, press my thumb along the curve of his arch and feel him shudder, hard
( ... )
Ease into the response of flesh on flesh, that instinct that neither of us can control at the moment. My breath hitches as he curls his toes over the head of my cock, and I glance up to see him, eyes closed and smiling. Beatific and twisted and shining with exertion …
This isn’t just another game.Hit that thought with blunt force and push back into my subconscious where it belongs. That notion, that idea is a product of too little sleep, not enough food, and David, praying to be broken at my hands
( ... )
I put my head back on the cross and breathe. Even the rise and fall of my ribs hurts as everything I am goes into keeping my arms where they are and I have to find words ... my fingers numb against the wood. My hips shift and the cross moves and my cock twitches when I let the pictures fill my mind of all the times I stand alone and what do I do to make myself come when all I have is my own hand
( ... )
...and I am, rock hard and aching and needing him more that I can understand.
Find my legs, somehow, and cross the floor to the communion table. pour sanctified anointing oil in my palm, swallow hard and stop in front of the cross. Wait, with only arm's length between us and look into his eyes.
"I lean back against the wall of my shower or the door of my bedroom or spread my legs in the center of my bed or there, against the Communion table with my eyes on the cross and I wrap my hand around my cock."
Fingers touching me, ghosts and memories and jesus it feels like forever since I've been kissed or stroked or fucked or loved. My hips roll forward with the sensation of a dream. My hands move on the slick wood as if I'm jerking off God.
"I start with slow, deliberate strokes that come up from the root to the head. My thumb rubbing through the slit and down underneath just over that spot that makes us all jump and moan."
I stand in the spot where I know David has stood countless times, days and nights, dreaming of god only knows who, remembering, longing. . .
And I listen, let his voice move my hand where I want his to be, inhale a rush of dry air that closes my throat with particles of sandalwood and polish and dust.
Dry and familiar and I know it now, recognize the memory of mutual attraction cooled to ashes, passion drained of its juice after too many arguments, or not enough.
Joy drained of its light because there's someone else . . .someone newer, different, better . . . some other bright shiny thing or personality or quirk or kink . . .
Memories sear me whirl through me, lifting eddies of rage and hurt and heartbreak on a sudden change of the tide.
I pull hard without waiting for David to speak again, twist and yank and suck in a hard, razor-sharp gasp. . . and hear his voice. Hear the sound of my name and hold my breath.
Comments 49
My blood pounds under the touch of his palms on my chest. Triphammer fast. My thumbs slide on the skin of his hips as my hands drop to my sides and I have to concentrate to take each breath.
Exhilaration. Desire. Tension and need and the more ... I've been looking for without even knowing it. The chapel is silent around us, hushed as if even the past is waiting for my answer.
"I can trust you, Terrence."
Reply
The electrical current that’s been rising between us like a lethal tide snaps and settles. Feel it beneath my hands, David’s skin hot against mine.
Reach up and thread my hand through his hair, cradle his skull in my palm. Whisper a kiss against his lips, and linger there to feel them swell and pulse against mine. Pull his lower lip between my teeth and suck it gently, tenderly. A promise made.
“I trust you, David.” I tell him. “Why don’t you show me where you keep things, okay?”
Reply
Reply
My heart stops as David falls to his knees, head bowed. Waiting for me to bless him. Heal him. Guide him. The suddenness of it shakes me, moves me and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral, my posture from yielding.
Reach down, cup his chin in my palm.
If he doesn’t know, he needs to be told.
If he doesn’t remember, he needs to be reminded.
“Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus…”
Holy, holy holy.Let my touch bring him to his feet. Kiss the top of his hand ( ... )
Reply
No kisses.
"Don't we all want that? I'm heir to nothing, but I want more than what I've had. I want someone that wants every part of me, the dark and the light. I want a desire that encompasses them both. The ability to sit and read in front of a fireplace, to paint and draw and fucking cut my initials into my lover's back when the mood shifts. Or be left on a cross and asked nearly impossible questions."
I move and the crucifix moves with me. Rub and tug and pull. Sweat drops in my eyes and I blink against the sting.
"When was the last time you were really in love, TJ? And didn't you feel as if you possessed that person? Weren't you just a little bit obsessed? And is that such a bad thing?"
Reply
Reply
I roll the ball of my foot over the hard press of his cock slowly.
...I trust you ... He said. And I have to believe him ( ... )
Reply
This isn’t just another game.Hit that thought with blunt force and push back into my subconscious where it belongs. That notion, that idea is a product of too little sleep, not enough food, and David, praying to be broken at my hands ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Find my legs, somehow, and cross the floor to the communion table. pour sanctified anointing oil in my palm, swallow hard and stop in front of the cross. Wait, with only arm's length between us and look into his eyes.
Nod my assent.
"Don't stop."
Reply
Fingers touching me, ghosts and memories and jesus it feels like forever since I've been kissed or stroked or fucked or loved. My hips roll forward with the sensation of a dream. My hands move on the slick wood as if I'm jerking off God.
"I start with slow, deliberate strokes that come up from the root to the head. My thumb rubbing through the slit and down underneath just over that spot that makes us all jump and moan."
Reply
I stand in the spot where I know David has stood countless times, days and nights, dreaming of god only knows who, remembering, longing. . .
And I listen, let his voice move my hand where I want his to be, inhale a rush of dry air that closes my throat with particles of sandalwood and polish and dust.
Dry and familiar and I know it now, recognize the memory of mutual attraction cooled to ashes, passion drained of its juice after too many arguments, or not enough.
Joy drained of its light because there's someone else . . .someone newer, different, better . . . some other bright shiny thing or personality or quirk or kink . . .
Memories sear me whirl through me, lifting eddies of rage and hurt and heartbreak on a sudden change of the tide.
I pull hard without waiting for David to speak again, twist and yank and suck in a hard, razor-sharp gasp. . . and hear his voice. Hear the sound of my name and hold my breath.
Reply
Leave a comment