As Nature Intended – Extract

Cover As Nature Intended

Elliot remembered with painful clarity the events that had led up to the exact moment he thought his life might be effectively over.

One early evening the week after his fourteenth birthday during a sweltering summer, Elliot was stood on his aunt Ellie’s porch in the still blazing sun, sipping on homemade lemonade, when he first felt an unfamiliar ache in his lower back. He and his cousin Sebastian had been busy playing with the family’s new puppy, chasing it back and forth across the lawn, and in and out of the small cluster of trees at the bottom of the garden for most of the day, so it had taken him a while to notice, acknowledging far too late that the pain had been with him since early that morning.

By the time the sun finally set, Elliot’s skin was glistening with sweat, and a fever raged just beneath the surface like an itch he couldn’t scratch. His pulse raced, his heart trembled with a sense of anticipation, and coursing through his entire body was the palpable need to be ready, all radiating out from a point deep inside himself that ached in a way he didn’t understand.

Aunt Ellie had sent him to bed with pain relief and a soothing kiss to his temple, a grim set to her jaw that told Elliot even then, that she knew something that he did not. And when the following morning came, when that ache and need had him writhing and moaning in unaccustomed agony, leaving him trying to seek friction, and fullness that he couldn’t place, Elliot understood. With quiet horror, he moved, feeling a leaking slickness coming from him that soaked straight through his clothes and the sheets beneath him on the bed, leaving him unable to deny his new truth.

Omega.

An oppressive stillness had come to him then, forcing up memories of biology classes in school that he’d thought he’d tuned out at the time. About how somewhere along the line of humanity, it had become possible for both men and women to conceive offspring, and that from that development was borne the Alpha, Beta and Omega dynamic. Betas carried on much as regular people always had done throughout human history, but instinct drove Alphas to impregnate, and Omegas to get pregnant, with those needs underwriting every aspect of an Alpha or Omega’s life. During a period of population crisis, the allele for Omega had shifted from recessive to dominant, and Alpha to recessive, with geneticists theorizing it was because a single Alpha could impregnate many Omegas, and were therefore in an evolutionary sense far less essential. Elliot remembered joking about telling that to his Alpha friends, and the laughs it had gotten around the class.

Elliot also remembered from those classes the apparent fucked up way the human body chose to reproduce. How once upon a time, many, many generations ago, when the world was evidently an even worse state than it was then in Elliot’s lifetime, women could carry a healthy baby to full term at around nine months. But in Elliot’s lifetime, male Omegas statistically proved stronger breeders, had overall better fertility, could endure gestation periods of almost eight months, where most Beta women, if they made it at all, could barely cope with six. Omega women fell somewhere in between, and considered very rare, but were still at higher risk of complications than Omega men.

That only two genders were legally recognized, when an entire spectrum of creation, and existing was possible between people, would continue to baffle Elliot, even then, in that moment, trapped in a sterile waiting room where he was waiting for his results to be confirmed and unable to stop his thoughts from wandering, desperate for good news.

He had already paced around the room several times, pausing once or twice to glare at his reflection in the mirror to critique his appearance, taking in the family trait of strawberry blond hair that on his cousin Sebastian appeared red in places yet on himself Elliot could only think to describe as dirty. Pale blue eyes stared back at him, accusatory and mocking, goading him into actions he wanted no part of, until he had to turn away, only to be drawn back once again to looking at all his flaws, seeking out a visible reason for his predicament.

Elliot strained to hear the nurse beyond the closed door, but only muffled voices taunted him. The waiting left him incensed with fear, because the last thing he needed was for what was happening to him then to really be happening. But he could feel it intensifying in him, his instincts fighting to be allowed to surface and force him into wanting things he really didn’t want to think about. There was no other word for it; Elliot was frightened. He remembered that first, overwhelming heat, when he’d thrashed and begged for things he didn’t know, couldn’t understand, as his family stood by helpless and unable to do anything for him, and that aching sense of hard arousal so out of place in his innocent fourteen-year-old body that left him feeling wrong, and broken. Corrupted.

He remembered scaring Sebastian, only a year younger than him yet almost the same height, his petrified eyes peering at Elliot through a crack in the door as Uncle Bernard and Aunt Ellie tried to soothe him, tried not to look at Elliot as though he was different, something fearsome to them, because they didn’t really know what they needed to do.

Elliot remembered hearing Uncle Bern’s panicked call to his already-absent father, Carl, and his subsequent though much-delayed arrival, only to glance over Elliot with callous eyes that told Elliot one thing; this was his final failure as a son being what he was.

Remembering all those things, Elliot couldn’t, wouldn’t allow the Omega in him to rise and force such mindless need on him. It would not be his reality, and he would do all he could to fight it, whatever it took. He closed his eyes to the final assault of his most painful of memories. Of overhearing snatches of a phone conversation between his aunt and a doctor. Of being given sedatives, then picked up and carried in gentle, loving arms, bundled into a car and driven to an imposing-looking clinic to figure this out.

The Heat suppressants prescribed for him at the time, a carton of pills pushed across a pharmacy counter into his trembling young hands and clutched there as though they were his lifeline, had worked ever since. He’d lived normal – as normal as he could do, anyway, and more than that, he’d lived well. They couldn’t fail him, not after how hard he had worked.

Those muffled voices he still couldn’t make out were ending their conversation. Elliot swallowed hard and straightened in his chair, then leapt up to follow the nurse as soon as she appeared to beckon him into an office. He sat rigidly and watched her work, precise fingers typing furiously at a computer, not paying him any attention until she had completed what she needed to do.

“So?” Elliot asked, the moment she looked up at him, because patience was not a gift he’d been blessed with. “Tell me.”

The nurse looked at him kindly, and it was the worst look Elliot could have hoped to receive. Without her even opening her mouth, enough hesitance in the nurse’s expression for Elliot to know what she was about to tell him.

“It would seem, Mr. Roderick, that the reason your suppressors have ceased working to full effectiveness is because your body is ready for you to breed,”

***

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As Nature Intended

 

When you first learn that you are an Omega, you learn all sorts of things you never imagined you would need to know when you were growing up. The essentials: Heat suppressants, scent masking, how to handle an Alpha that is scenting you, and of course, the laws that are in place to protect you, in a society that is accepting and progressive, yet still has elements of its attitudes stuck firmly in the past. You also learn that through no fault of your own, or conscious effort, it is possible for an Omega to adjust their body chemistry, to make themselves ready to do what some feel is their sole purpose in life: to breed.

Presenting as an Omega at the age of fourteen, Elliot has grown up cautious, distrustful of the world around him, yet determined to live a fulfilling life in spite of that. He is successful at work, has recently moved into a new apartment, and everything in his world appears to be falling into place. Which is, of course, exactly when his body decides to rebel, forcing ideas and urges into Elliot that he has spent his life trying to deny.

Enter reluctant Alpha, Oskar; as adamant as Elliot that he will not have his life disrupted by what he is, and just as horrified by his instincts as Elliot is finding himself about his own. Should they fight the inevitability that is their bond, that need they have for one another that will not get them a moment’s respite, or give in to just how easy, and effortless it feels between them?

Read here

As Nature Intended – Extract

Cover As Nature Intended

Elliot remembered with painful clarity the events that had led up to the exact moment he thought his life might be effectively over.

One early evening the week after his fourteenth birthday during a sweltering summer, Elliot was stood on his aunt Ellie’s porch in the still blazing sun, sipping on homemade lemonade, when he first felt an unfamiliar ache in his lower back. He and his cousin Sebastian had been busy playing with the family’s new puppy, chasing it back and forth across the lawn, and in and out of the small cluster of trees at the bottom of the garden for most of the day, so it had taken him a while to notice, acknowledging far too late that the pain had been with him since early that morning.

By the time the sun finally set, Elliot’s skin was glistening with sweat, and a fever raged just beneath the surface like an itch he couldn’t scratch. His pulse raced, his heart trembled with a sense of anticipation, and coursing through his entire body was the palpable need to be ready, all radiating out from a point deep inside himself that ached in a way he didn’t understand.

Aunt Ellie had sent him to bed with pain relief and a soothing kiss to his temple, a grim set to her jaw that told Elliot even then, that she knew something that he did not. And when the following morning came, when that ache and need had him writhing and moaning in unaccustomed agony, leaving him trying to seek friction, and fullness that he couldn’t place, Elliot understood. With quiet horror, he moved, feeling a leaking slickness coming from him that soaked straight through his clothes and the sheets beneath him on the bed, leaving him unable to deny his new truth.

Omega.

An oppressive stillness had come to him then, forcing up memories of biology classes in school that he’d thought he’d tuned out at the time. About how somewhere along the line of humanity, it had become possible for both men and women to conceive offspring, and that from that development was borne the Alpha, Beta and Omega dynamic. Betas carried on much as regular people always had done throughout human history, but instinct drove Alphas to impregnate, and Omegas to get pregnant, with those needs underwriting every aspect of an Alpha or Omega’s life. During a period of population crisis, the allele for Omega had shifted from recessive to dominant, and Alpha to recessive, with geneticists theorizing it was because a single Alpha could impregnate many Omegas, and were therefore in an evolutionary sense far less essential. Elliot remembered joking about telling that to his Alpha friends, and the laughs it had gotten around the class.

Elliot also remembered from those classes the apparent fucked up way the human body chose to reproduce. How once upon a time, many, many generations ago, when the world was evidently an even worse state than it was then in Elliot’s lifetime, women could carry a healthy baby to full term at around nine months. But in Elliot’s lifetime, male Omegas statistically proved stronger breeders, had overall better fertility, could endure gestation periods of almost eight months, where most Beta women, if they made it at all, could barely cope with six. Omega women fell somewhere in between, and considered very rare, but were still at higher risk of complications than Omega men.

That only two genders were legally recognized, when an entire spectrum of creation, and existing was possible between people, would continue to baffle Elliot, even then, in that moment, trapped in a sterile waiting room where he was waiting for his results to be confirmed and unable to stop his thoughts from wandering, desperate for good news.

He had already paced around the room several times, pausing once or twice to glare at his reflection in the mirror to critique his appearance, taking in the family trait of strawberry blond hair that on his cousin Sebastian appeared red in places yet on himself Elliot could only think to describe as dirty. Pale blue eyes stared back at him, accusatory and mocking, goading him into actions he wanted no part of, until he had to turn away, only to be drawn back once again to looking at all his flaws, seeking out a visible reason for his predicament.

Elliot strained to hear the nurse beyond the closed door, but only muffled voices taunted him. The waiting left him incensed with fear, because the last thing he needed was for what was happening to him then to really be happening. But he could feel it intensifying in him, his instincts fighting to be allowed to surface and force him into wanting things he really didn’t want to think about. There was no other word for it; Elliot was frightened. He remembered that first, overwhelming heat, when he’d thrashed and begged for things he didn’t know, couldn’t understand, as his family stood by helpless and unable to do anything for him, and that aching sense of hard arousal so out of place in his innocent fourteen-year-old body that left him feeling wrong, and broken. Corrupted.

He remembered scaring Sebastian, only a year younger than him yet almost the same height, his petrified eyes peering at Elliot through a crack in the door as Uncle Bernard and Aunt Ellie tried to soothe him, tried not to look at Elliot as though he was different, something fearsome to them, because they didn’t really know what they needed to do.

Elliot remembered hearing Uncle Bern’s panicked call to his already-absent father, Carl, and his subsequent though much-delayed arrival, only to glance over Elliot with callous eyes that told Elliot one thing; this was his final failure as a son being what he was.

Remembering all those things, Elliot couldn’t, wouldn’t allow the Omega in him to rise and force such mindless need on him. It would not be his reality, and he would do all he could to fight it, whatever it took. He closed his eyes to the final assault of his most painful of memories. Of overhearing snatches of a phone conversation between his aunt and a doctor. Of being given sedatives, then picked up and carried in gentle, loving arms, bundled into a car and driven to an imposing-looking clinic to figure this out.

The Heat suppressants prescribed for him at the time, a carton of pills pushed across a pharmacy counter into his trembling young hands and clutched there as though they were his lifeline, had worked ever since. He’d lived normal – as normal as he could do, anyway, and more than that, he’d lived well. They couldn’t fail him, not after how hard he had worked.

Those muffled voices he still couldn’t make out were ending their conversation. Elliot swallowed hard and straightened in his chair, then leapt up to follow the nurse as soon as she appeared to beckon him into an office. He sat rigidly and watched her work, precise fingers typing furiously at a computer, not paying him any attention until she had completed what she needed to do.

“So?” Elliot asked, the moment she looked up at him, because patience was not a gift he’d been blessed with. “Tell me.”

The nurse looked at him kindly, and it was the worst look Elliot could have hoped to receive. Without her even opening her mouth, enough hesitance in the nurse’s expression for Elliot to know what she was about to tell him.

“It would seem, Mr. Roderick, that the reason your suppressors have ceased working to full effectiveness is because your body is ready for you to breed,”

***

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To Forget

**previously published on Hot Chili Erotica** – suffice to say, this is not safe for work…


Rebound sex is supposed to be messy. Sweat stained sheets and spit-slick lips, no thoughts other than want, no feelings but release, a momentary pause in the heartache to remind that life goes on.

This bar, just the right side of sleazy, is perfect.

A room thick with bodies, the heat from the summer sun so heavy that the atmosphere in the bar feels almost smoky, and liquor on tap to smooth the way for getting exactly what you came for.

A wall of sound that is the disembodied conversations of other people also here to lose themselves allows you to tune in, yet switch off your own thoughts. Your fingers curl around the cool glass of the tumbler that you’ve emptied several times now, the whiskey hitting the back of your throat and providing a numbness that puts a temporary silence on the painful memories taunting you on repeat.

Absently, as though you are viewing through frosted glass, you observe the room; blond by the pool table, gym bunny at the end of the bar in jeans tight enough to make a small smile flicker across your lips. Over by the cigarette machine there’s a guy with hair so dark it looks streaked with blue under the poor lighting, standing on chaotic end, and reminding you so very much of—

Cold glass pressed in warm grip as you reign your thoughts back in yet again, signalling for another drink. You take a moment to compose yourself; this should be getting easier already, you should be able to switch off; he clearly has, able to walk out of your life as though all that time together was nothing more than a fleeting thought.

He should be easier to forget. Or at the very least, momentarily replace.

A denim-clad knee grazes solidly against yours as the stool next to you is occupied. The quick glance you give to your side shows a muscled thigh and a tanned, equally-muscular arm beneath a tight green t-shirt, and there’s a wash of relief that trickles through you. This is perfect. This is what you want. This is what you need to take your mind off—

He knows you’re looking at him. You know his eyes are lingering over you too, and you resist the urge to hold you breath, suck in unnecessarily, as those eyes lift slowly until they meet heatedly with yours.

That denim-clad knee knocks against yours and stops there, making you swallow with difficulty, as a thrill of excitement begins to stir.

You watch as he orders, smile as he gestures for the bartender to refill your own glass, and nod in thanks. There is small talk; you hear a name you intend to forget the second this evening is over, and possibly long before then.

When he leans in, you lean back.

He’s making conversation, and you’re nodding in all the right places so that to anyone who might be looking in your direction there is nothing happening that shouldn’t be. But there are fingertips pressing just above your knee, sliding a path that’s steady, and sure, and your legs part without you even thinking as those fingertips brush over your fly, pressing gently, until there’s a whole hand cupping, moulding, exploring.

His thumb strokes insistently against your length, and you shuffle slightly on the stool, feeling yourself begin to stiffen and swell under his touch. For a second you lose yourself in the feel of it, close your eyes, let a soft sigh spill from your lips. Then remind yourself that this is where you’re supposed to reciprocate.

Shaky fingers find hardness, and that’s when the low swell of desire swirls its way around your gut. This is good. This is what you need, and most definitely what you wanted from this evening. The whiskey is thrown back with the same rapidness as the previous ones, and you surge forward, parting dry lips with your tongue and swallowing the resulting groan.

The burn of stubble sings against your own, and you reach a hand up to slip through hair, angling an unfamiliar head towards you as you turn in slightly and give him better access to where he’s stroking you solid.

He tastes good; part whiskey, part unnamed spice, and your hands appreciate the firmness of the chest beneath your palm as you slide it upwards, resuming the grip in his hair as you keep him just where you want him.

There is movement, and you neither know nor care which of you is the one to initiate it; moments later there is the sound of a bathroom stall being locked and the feeling of being pressed roughly back against a door, his mouth back on yours instantly. He pulls away for a moment, a trail of kisses down your neck where he bites first into your pulse point, then back up to nip at your earlobe, forcing out a soft moan from your own mouth.

You feel the press of a button being undone, and your fly sliding down, and hands sliding around your waist into your boxers, as those and your jeans are firmly tugged mid-thigh. You spring free, feeling the coolness of the air hit you momentarily, before a thumb sweeps over your head, swiping up the slickness already there.

You fumble to do the same for him, but he smacks your hands away, and gives you a grin that makes your cock pulse in its freedom. And he’s squatting down until he’s at eye level with it; you can’t blame him for not wanting to kneel in here, but the way he’s looking at you makes you thrust your hips forward until your shaft is bumping against his lips, insistent about what you want.

There is no objection on his face. He laps out his tongue, and the instant you feel that wet lick through the smear of pre-cum that’s budding out of your slit, your head drops back with a thud against the thin cubicle wall. This is most definitely exactly what you came here for. He laps over your head again, swirling his tongue in a way that has you grunting in appreciation, and half-forcing your hips to steady, before he’s sucking you in hard enough to startle a groan out of you that you know full well was far too loud for this public place.

You can’t find it in yourself to care, not with that sensation of wet heat that’s pulsing around you, teasing you harder as hands steady themselves on your sides, then slip around to mould your ass. You look down, watch the stretch of his lips around you, take in the wink he gives you as he adjusts his position. And then he’s sliding, taking in even more of you, until you feel the constriction of his throat around your head, squeezing as he swallows.

His eyes never leave yours, and there’s something about that that makes you even harder, that and the way he slowly slides off you as though to emphasize just how much of your length he’s just taken in. He swirls his tongue over your head again before those lips slide down over you once more, and again he’s sucking you down, squeezing you tight, a roll of heat surging through you that makes you lift your hands, grab his face, fuck into his mouth.

You lose yourself in the feel of him gripping and swallowing around you, the build of your orgasm burning away any other thought. But then as quick as he started he stops, rising quickly to his feet and pressing himself hard against you so you can feel how hard his dick is just from sucking you off.

You taste yourself on his tongue, shove your hands into his jean pockets and pull him close, groaning to match his own as you rut together. He whispers something about going back to yours and your mind freezes, taken over for a second by an assault of images, of someone else in your bed; of someone who left.

You shake your head, both in answer and to force the images away, and instead reach out, unzipping him quickly and wrapping your fingers around him, swirling the mess of pre-cum on his head down his shaft, then line him up against your own cock, and stroke.

He moans against you, and it’s sinful, spurring you on to set a steady rhythm that blocks out anything but the feel of skin on skin, mouth on mouth, tongues sliding and bodies grinding together. He slots his fingers in the gaps between yours and then you’re grinding harder, biting bruises into lips and digging fingers into flesh to keep you both upright as you jack off.

Your mind is clear, of anything but the sensations of him, and you, and the sounds you’re both making, the way the very stall is shaking as you rut and groan together. You’re getting close, the heat in your core growing hotter as the slickness between you grows sloppier, and your hips jut at an ever erratic pace.

He’s building there with you if the gasps he’s letting out are anything to go by, already pushing up his own shirt and hooking his thumb up under yours, expecting mess, any moment now. Your hands move faster, your tongues lick deeper, and teeth bite into lips as you get closer, and closer still.

And then you come, feeling your balls contract tight as you empty yourself, slumping at the pleasure rippling through you, spurting against both your chests just a few thrusts before he is painting you the same. He swears, leaning against you, head in the crook of your neck as you both take a moment to catch your breath, already aware of the cooling mess dripping down between you both.

Another minute passes, and there is a lazy kiss, followed by a hasty wiping down, a grimace as the toilet is flushed, and then you each zip yourselves up, standing up straight and sated. There are smiles, and he cups your face in his hands for one more kiss, before he’s gesturing at the door and you’re sliding the bolt across, following him out.

You wash your hands side by side in silence, and he waits as though he is expecting you to be the first to leave.

You are.

You pay your tab, leave, walk home pleasantly numb and empty in the best kind of way. It isn’t until you’re letting yourself into an empty apartment, hearing the resounding click of the door shutting behind you, that the feeling of emptiness changes, morphs into loneliness, and your heart aches all over again as the memories assault you once more.

You walk through empty rooms, look at shelves with dust-free spaces from taken-down photographs, pause in the doorway of your bedroom and notice how wrong it looks with your pillows in the centre of the bed instead of to the side, next to his pillows, next to—

You cross the room in three strides and wrap your fingers around the cold glass of the half-drained whiskey bottle on your bedside cabinet, and you gulp down a good measure of it before slamming it noisily back on the side.

You fall, heavy on the bed with a drop that leaves you bouncing, succumbing to the images that have been taunting you all day.

Tomorrow, you tell yourself. Tomorrow you will forget him. As you have forgotten him every night in different bars for the past five nights.

It’ll stop hurting soon.

Permission

Todd and Eric have been fooling around together for a while now, though it’s never got beyond much more than a lot of drunken fumbling. That’s about to change…

This is NOT safe for work, just to warn you. For those of you who follow/have followed me elsewhere, you might recognise this story in another guise 😉

There are very few instances in Eric’s life where he has felt truly good about himself, but here in this moment with Todd looking at him with such adulation in his eyes, that’s what he feels: good. Worthy of this, maybe even loved, if he lets himself acknowledge this is the word to describe what’s going on between them. It’s a feeling he’s never had before, and if honest is a little overwhelmed by it. But Todd’s smile for him is warm, and his hand, curled with a thumb tracing the length of his jaw is soothing, and hell, Eric is only human. He can’t stop his heart soaring and his stomach fluttering and his palms sweating like this is the first time he’s ever been touched.

Todd’s lips on his are gentle, so shy it feels like this should be a first kiss, when it’s far from it. Eric kisses back, just as nervous, just as hesitant. Jumps in surprise when Todd’s fingers catch on his neck on the way to cupping the back of his head. Todd nudges against him giving the tiniest of smiles before claiming his mouth again, a little firmer this time.

Eric waits a moment, then moves closer, winds his fingers through Todd’s long brown hair and holds on, tugging just enough to make him softly whimper, then press back at all the points he can with the way they’re sat awkwardly on the edge of his bed. He reaches to loop an arm around Todd’s waist to pull him closer, and Todd leans over him until Eric’s pressed back against the mattress. Eric opens his mouth to him, and Todd moans at the gesture, sweeping his tongue inside to catch the taste of him there. Eric shudders with the need he has to get closer to him, feeling those same trembles back from Todd. They press tightly against one another and kiss with growing urgency until Todd is mouthing down his neck, then mumbling reassurances in his ear.

“Let me undress you,” Todd requests after a moment, low and heated in a rumble against him. Eric swallows, thinks how much he wants that, but how he doesn’t know if he can handle that look of love that’s in Todd’s eyes as he says it. Doesn’t think he can let himself believe it. One beer too many on an evening that had led to a stolen moment of drunken fumbling that now seems like a lifetime ago, is when the tension between them had finally broken. But until now, it has never been acknowledged just how much they mean to each other. Taking snatches of things they’re both desperate to mean something so much bigger, but are both too frightened to ask if this is what they really have.

As though Todd is reading his mind, he’s whispering to him the truth of it, leaving tears pricking in the corners of Eric’s eyes. Todd kisses Eric so sweetly then it’s like he can’t believe he’s even allowed to, and Eric has to claim himself a harder kiss to reassure Todd that he is.

Todd’s hands are immediately beneath Eric’s shirt and rising, gentle fingers pressed into his stomach and chest as he strokes a path upwards. Eric lifts his arms to help him remove it and ends up with them light around Todd’s shoulders as he bends to kiss along his collarbone before kissing a path back to his mouth.

When Eric reaches for Todd’s shirt he sees him smiling, shrugging out of it seconds later and that smile widening as he pulls lightly on Eric’s hips until their skin is flush. “I’ve wanted to feel you like this,” Todd tells him as he strokes reverent hands up the flanks of his chest, and it’s said with such sincerity that Eric feels himself begin to blush.

They help each other out of the remainder of their clothes, and then Todd is throwing back the duvet and murmuring for Eric to crawl in. He stands to the side of the bed looking down on him, seeming to just drink in the sight of him for a moment, then with deliberate slowness pulls out the lube from Eric’s bedside cabinet and slams the draw shut until it rattles, clutching the bottle tight in his hand. With a tiny swallow that reveals a hint of nervousness Todd asks, “Will you let me?”

“Like you even need to ask,” Eric retorts, one firm nod of his head and his cock already twitching at the certainty of what Todd is wanting to do to him. Both their eyes drop to it and Todd smiles, kneeling on to the bed and immediately bending to nuzzle along his length, smiling harder at the way it jolts against his face. Eric is momentarily stunned, as he is always stunned by the ease with which Todd touches him, how natural it seems for him to know exactly what Eric needs, then smiles up at him in encouragement and earns himself a proud smile.

Todd presses Eric firmly on his hips to insinuate he stays on his back, then crawls between his legs, kissing his way up Eric’s chest. He sneaks a hand between them to grab their cocks and line them up together before thrusting against him, groaning into Eric’s neck as he does for a few rolls of his hips. Eric’s arms are up and around his back, and lets out a contented sigh as he continues, that sigh inching over into a moan as teeth and tongue replace the lips against his skin. Todd raises his head for just a second as though he’s considering asking for permission, then bends back down, sucking in a bruise there. Eric swears he hears Todd mutter mine against him, and feels himself stir and swell even harder.

They kiss, lazy and sloppy, their hips moving together in a languid roll as they’ve done so many times before – though always through at least partial clothing, as though that final barrier between them made any difference to what they were doing to each other. It’s easy yet feels so different, and Eric thinks it’s because they’re both really on the same page now, that they both know how the other is feeling. Honesty has turned their rushed fumbles into something enduring, and affectionate. It’s taken them long enough, he thinks, hands greedily skimming over Todd’s hips as he gives a particularly hard roll beneath him, making Todd’s cock slip and nudge between his cheeks. They both blast out a moan then look down as one over the trial of precum they’ve left over each other’s skin from rutting together, and that sight just stirs them both harder still.

Todd pitches over to his side though doesn’t break their kiss, a brief stroke over his own cock before he wriggles to reach for the lube he’d unconsciously dropped to the bed earlier, with Eric plucking it from his fingers for Todd to pop the cap so he can pour some over his waiting hand. Eric slides his feet up the bed until his knees are splayed, then hooks one over Todd’s leg, settling and nudging against Todd’s cock wedged tight against his side.

Eric hums at the first slide of Todd’s slickened hand over his cock, raising his head to get a better angle as he watches him stroke him over, letting out small hums of pleasure to encourage him on with every slide. He gives a particularly louder moan when Todd gives this little twist over his head that he already knows from multiple past experiences Eric really, really likes.

Eric surges upwards, claiming a harder kiss, drags his leg back over Todd then rolls on to his side as well. He makes quick work of lubing his own hand up and reaching down to wrap it around Todd’s cock, and soon they’re whispering encouragement into each other’s lips with slides of tongue and slickened grips forcing out the most sinful of moans.

Todd drops his grip on Eric, teasing a trail of fingertips up over his hip and down over his ass. He slides one up and down the crack of it smiling as Eric hums, then slips it between his cheeks, nudging at his hole, this time groaning when Eric tilts his hips back to meet it.

Todd rolls Eric onto his back again with a firm press of their chests together, arranging his legs splayed just how he wants them before bending and licking over his cock head, pausing to suckle until Eric’s precum is flooding into his mouth. He gives one firm drag of his lips up and off his length then rolls himself back up, lubing his fingers up again with Eric’s assistance then kissing him firm, nudging his cheeks apart once more so he can press a finger against his hole to slip inside.

Eric’s desperate to have Todd inside of him, and shows that need by straightaway thrusting his hips down so he’s impaled on that finger Todd is giving him. Todd grins, mutters soothing things to him about being patient and kisses him quiet with a steady slide of that finger in and out. At Eric’s whimper, he adds a second, and smiles hard at the thankful sigh Eric blasts against his lips as he tries to kiss him.

“You getting a little eager for me there, Eric?” Todd teases, grinning as he crooks his fingers inside Eric, seeing the way it feels from the look on his face, and hearing it in the whimper that falls from his lips.

“I want you in me,” Eric stutters, his feet slipping as he tries to splay his legs open even wider, “I need it,” to which Todd closes his eyes and lets out another groan, pausing to drop his head down on Eric’s shoulder for a second as though he needs to get himself composed. But then he’s back to opening Eric up in all the ways he likes; repeated scissoring of his fingers, occasional nudges at his prostate, and an eventual third finger that on receiving makes Eric stutter out a broken wail.

Todd is leaning his head against Eric’s shoulder once more, muttering there what Eric thinks is keep control. It makes Eric smile; he’s not seen Todd like this before, not with eyes so full of need and such closeness to not being in control of himself. He likes it a lot, Eric decides, lifting his head up to drop a kiss down on the top of Todd’s, earning himself a self-deprecating smile and quiet laugh.

Todd leans to kiss him, and a few moments are taken up only with that, a closeness that is steadying and reassuring for them both. Then Todd is slotting himself between Eric’s legs and arranging him how he wants him again, leaning down to give Eric’s cock one final mouthing over before straightening up, bracing himself briefly with warm hands against his stomach, then pushing on Eric’s thighs until they’re open enough for him to fit between.

Eric shifts a little himself. He wants to watch Todd sliding in to him; he’s been waiting long enough for it to happen and as well as feeling it, he doesn’t want to miss a second of seeing him disappear inside. His legs jolt as Todd strokes his fingers down the creases of his thighs to linger and nudge against his balls, then drops his hands lower, one thumb sweeping over his hole and briefly dipping in to him before it’s joined by the other in pulling him open.

Eric watches Todd duck his head, angle back a little to watch for himself as he nudges his cock tip against Eric’s hole and rolls his hips, until his cock head is plugging him. He gives one glance up to Eric for permission, swallows greedily when he receives it, then gives one continuous roll of his hips until he’s all the way inside.

There’s a delayed moan shared between them, Eric’s eyes wide and round at the view he’s got in front of him and the feel of Todd’s cock all the way up inside and stretching him open. They raise their gaze from where they’re joined up to each other’s faces and give a little smile before they look back down and watch, as Todd pulls out until his head’s catching against Eric’s rim, then is sliding all the way back in.

They watch through another few thrusts, through another few groans of encouragement. Then Todd is pitching forward and getting comfortable, grinning at Eric as he brackets his face between his elbows and dives in for a kiss. He gives a languid roll of his hips that he hums his approval at the feel of against Eric’s lips, the rumble of that joining Eric’s own as he settles his hands around Todd’s lower back.

They keep grinning at each other, stupid and silly, interrupted only by the groans they drag out of one another and the continual meeting of their lips. Todd presses a harder kiss on him then drops his head down to nuzzle over the bite he left on Eric’s neck earlier, raising it again to keep eye contact as he gives another thrust into him. Eric bites down on his lip, watching as a wave of pleasure shivers through Todd, ending with a loud, desperate groan.

When Todd looks back up again, Eric lifts one hand to slot his fingers through the back of his hair and pull him in for a longer kiss, which they keep up for as long as possible until their gasps take over. Todd drops another on his cheek and stirs his hips a little, smiling at Eric’s answering arch. “Wrap your legs around me,” he whispers at him, eyes fluttering closed when Eric does just that and the angle shift has them both cry out as it feels like Todd is sinking into him deeper still.

Their thrusts grow more rapid, kisses impossible for the need to keep catching their breath in between their continual gasps and groans, with Todd’s hips soon losing the smoothness of their rolls and giving way to erratic judders that unhook Eric’s ankles from where they’re crossed around him until his feet are back on the bed.

Eric begins rolling up to claim Todd’s thrusts desperately, them both building so fast, getting so close that their movements become purely instinctual, with no conscious thought behind them. Todd has just enough sense about him to shift until he’s wedged his hand between them to wrap around Eric’s cock, bringing him to orgasm with no more than a half dozen strokes, his hips beginning to jolt even more at the noises blasting out of Eric and the way his hole is fluttering around his length.

Todd picks up his pace, desperate and needy, staring Eric down the closer he gets. A couple more thrusts and then he’s coming, wailing it out as he grinds his hips against Eric, and Eric letting out his own whimper as he does, sure he can feel every spurt of Todd inside of him.

Todd gives out another grunt and collapses on top of him, pressing as close in and around Eric as he can get. He pets an idle hand along Todd’s back, pressing kisses to the side of his head as he flexes his muscles, grinning what he knows is probably ridiculously at his continual assessment of that wetness inside of him.

When Todd has recovered a little he’s shifting, kissing Eric triumphantly before kneeling back. He pulls out of him carefully, his face splitting into a smile as he tilts back to inspect Eric’s hole, plunging his fingers in and holding them up for Eric’s inspection to show him what he’s done. Eric bursts out laughing and reaches to squeeze Todd’s sides where they rest between his open thighs. “Why do I feel like I’ve just been claimed?”

Todd grins at him, lowers himself back down over for a kiss that turns into another hum of approval before nuzzling against him and dropping his chin down on his shoulder with a sigh and another kiss into his neck. “You have been; though long before now, though, I’d say,” he tells him, squeezing him tight for one more minute before rolling down beside him, and pulling Eric into his arms, content.

 

 

Getting Lucky

**previously published on Hot Chili Erotica** – suffice to say, this is not safe for work…


I am not this lucky.

Lewis stares up at his bedroom ceiling in a silence that only comes of it being the middle of the night, and lets his fingers creep across the mattress, until they come into the reassuring contact that is skin on warm skin.

Sebastian doesn’t even stir.

But even though there is bare skin right there beneath his fingertips, Lewis still doesn’t believe it, has to turn his head to the side to make sure there really is a warm body beside him in his bed, that his imagination is not that cruel, and is not actually taunting him with nothing but wishful thinking.

Because Sebastian looks like something out of a wet dream, yet is also someone who is warm, fun to be with, and smart as hell too. Those things don’t usually go together well in any good kind of combination, Lewis knows this from past experience. He still finds himself holding his breath, waiting for someone to tell him what the catch is. To tell him he doesn’t have the right to this at all.

It’s been eight months since his cousin introduced them, and from that first glimpse of hazel eyes and perfectly-styled hair, Lewis has been hooked. One well-behaved first date later, and Sebastian had invited him over for dinner. Somewhere between the main and dessert—because of course, Sebastian is incredible at cooking too—he’d led Lewis over to the sofa, spread his legs wide, and sucked him off with such skill, Lewis suspects he’s been ruined for life for anyone else.

And Sebastian knows this; Lewis sees it in the glint in his eyes when he’s unzipping him beneath the table at their local bar. He feels it in Sebastian’s palm when he’s got them slicked up and is fisting them together in the shower, making them both late for work. And he knows, from the late night messages he gets of Sebastian’s spent cock, cum pooling on his stomach and beginning to slide its way down his side, with the accompanying message this is what thinking of you does to me…

Sebastian also knows, it seems, when Lewis is not able to get back to sleep.

Fingers thread between his own where they’re steepled against Sebastian’s thigh, and there’s a soft yawn and a slight stretch, before Sebastian is arching against the bed, and waking himself up.

“Don’t,” Lewis whispers, because he never meant to wake Sebastian with his sudden rush of insecurities. But Sebastian is already awake, gripping his fingers softly, and anchoring Lewis there beside him without even needing him to ask for it.

“Lewis,” Sebastian says, his voice gruffer than it is by daylight, and gravel enough to have Lewis’ cock stir. He adds nothing else, but that grumbling of his name is enough to send a shot of desire flaring through Lewis, leaving him shifting as he begins to stir.

“Go back to sleep,” Lewis tells him softly, rolling on to his side as though that might stop the way he’s reacting, and pressing a light kiss to Sebastian’s shoulder as he loosens his fingers from beneath Sebastian’s, resting them on his stomach instead.

Sebastian shifts a little, humming with approval as he slots his fingers through Lewis’ against his skin. “Why can’t you sleep?”

With a shake of his head, Lewis kisses Sebastian’s shoulder again, splays his fingers to touch as much of him at once as possible, and rolls forward further until his front is pressing fully against his side. Sebastian circles his wrist to free it in the slight gap between them, wraps his hand around Lewis’s immediately interested cock, and gives a lazy pull.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Lewis tells him, his voice catching at the feel of Sebastian’s fingers around him, and that heat surging through as he hardens against his palm.

“But now we’re both awake,” Sebastian adds, with a long, languid stroke, and Lewis is lost. And thankful. And so utterly helpless when it comes to resisting Sebastian – and that voice he’s using right now.

Lewis slides his hand up Sebastian’s chest as Sebastian’s tumbles to the bed, grazing his fingers in circles over each of his nipples in turn, continuing the kisses to his shoulder, and smiling there as Sebastian arches up a little at his touch. Lewis lifts his head, trailing kisses up Sebastian’s neck that he echoes with soft bites, then down his throat to nuzzle, and finally settles his chin against his sternum, where he scratches his stubbled chin, looking up at Sebastian in expectation.

A second later, Sebastian has reached out to switch the light on so they can see each other properly, and is staring down at him with a smirk on his face that has Lewis’ breath quickens, making his cock give another twitch right there against Sebastian’s thigh.

“I don’t have a single objection to you continuing,” Sebastian tells him, and Lewis hears the lust there in his tone that just spurs him on. So Lewis does just that, wasting no time at all in sliding his way down Sebastian’s body, wrapping his hands lightly around his waist, and grazing his teeth and tongue over hipbones that, quite honestly, have been distracting Lewis since day one. Sebastian gives a low hum of approval, and Lewis manages a single, pained swallow, as Sebastian begins to swell and thicken under his attention, mere inches from Lewis’ mouth.

Another shift, and Lewis is bracing himself against the bed, hands flat on the sheets as he blows softly over Sebastian’s head, smiling at the way it jolts in response. Lewis is flicking his tongue out a second later, groaning in answer to Sebastian’s own, lapping against him, relishing the smooth hardness of his crown, and the way his slit glistens and leaks so quickly just from only those barest beginning of touches.

Lewis presses a kiss to his tip, unmoving and waiting for Sebastian to look at him again. And when he does, Lewis opens his mouth and slides down, lips stretching over that ridge, down his shaft, until Sebastian’s cock head is bumping at the back of this throat. Lewis hollows out his cheeks and sucks hard, groaning to himself at the way Sebastian’s thighs flex in answer, and how he’s reduced to these short, sharp breaths that are saying how good Lewis’ mouth feels on him.

Another hard suck and Lewis pulls off, but instantly takes Sebastian in his mouth again, starting up a slow, thorough slide up and down his shaft, one he continues without breaking eye contact, and always taking in as much of Sebastian as he can. He shifts a little to adjust his weight against the bed, and Sebastian echoes the movement to get more comfortable, splaying his legs a little wider to give him easier access. Then Lewis is pulling off altogether, nuzzling into Sebastian’s base, laving a long lick all the way up his length along the vein that Lewis swears tastes different to the rest of his shaft, and then over his head again, before kissing his way back down.

Lewis ghosts wet, open mouthed kisses up and down Sebastian, earning him whines of protest for more, a thrusting of hips that asks Lewis to swallow him down again, and fingers that grip frantically through his hair, pulling him ever closer, gentle but insistent. Lewis looks up at Sebastian, winks, and swallows him down as far as he can once more, smiling around him as Sebastian arches, groans, and trembles beneath him.

Lewis breathes out steadily in an effort to relax, takes in a little more of Sebastian’s cock, and pauses through the reflex of his throat to fight the intrusion of his cock head. Instantly, as though begging and inviting more, Sebastian parts his legs wider still; Lewis adjusts himself so he’s still comfortable then pulls off, slow, teasing, before swallowing down again, a little deeper.

Sebastian groans his name as Lewis continues this slow, controlled swallowing of him down, until his throat is full, and he’s having to breath out through his nose. There is a pause as Lewis settles himself, and then he’s swallowing around him, closing his eyes at the barrage of praise and obscenities it squeezes out of Sebastian as his throat constricts around his cock.

Lewis shifts his head slightly, grazes his thumbs lightly against Sebastian’s sides, wordlessly tells him what he wants him to do next. Sebastian is gasping, feet braced against the bed as he fucks up into Lewis’ mouth, his fingers twitching through his hair as he fights the urge to go rougher and faster.

Sebastian loves this; Lewis learned early on that deepthroating Sebastian is a surefire way to earn him whatever sexual favours he wants in return, and has also on three separate occasions led to breakfast in bed, as well as several lazy Sundays where he’d been left so spent, he’d barely been able to move. So Lewis holds on as long as he can through Sebastian’s thrusts and gasps, ignoring his own need as much as is possible, torture when he’s aching and leaking, hanging heavily between his legs.

But Sebastian knows Lewis well enough to notice the way he braces himself to try to hide the trembles surging through his arms, the shallowing of Lewis’ breath that says he’s getting tired, the slight rasping through the moan Lewis is giving that says his jaw is beginning to ache.

So Sebastian is moving, gently tugging on Lewis’ hair to tell him to pull off, then gripping him around the shoulders once he does and dragging him up the bed, on to his back. Sebastian kisses him hard, desperate, thrusting his tongue into Lewis’ mouth repeatedly in the most dirty of kisses Lewis thinks he’s ever been on the receiving end of. Yet another thing he’s come to really, really like about this man.

Sebastian’s hand is on him, thumb swiping up the precum leaking, and gripping him firm, fisting him at a pace that is going to bring Lewis over the edge in just seconds if it continues at that speed.

But it doesn’t.

Because Sebastian is shifting again, hand fumbling around in the drawer beside the bed and pulling out the lube that they’re getting through at a rate that talks of how much they love fucking each other. Sebastian coats his fingers; Lewis closes his eyes expecting the cool gel to graze over the pucker of his hole any second, but instead feels the bed dip either side of him. He opens his eyes instantly to Sebastian kneeling over him, and before he can comment or offer encouragement, Sebastian is spearing himself open, as though he is just desperate to be filled.

Lewis is helpless but to hold on to Sebastian’s hips and tilt him so he can watch more easily as Sebastian’s fingers arch and scissor him open, with accompanying moans that just make Lewis leak. And then Sebastian is lowering himself to straddle Lewis’ lap, holding himself open with one hand, and guiding Lewis cock with the other, until it’s slipping inside of him with a slick slide.

They both moan softly as Sebastian sinks down, until he’s fully seated and gasping. The tightness is narrowing Lewis’ focus to nothing but the feel of Sebastian squeezing around him, and Lewis’ hips are jerking of their own accord as Sebastian circles his hips to get comfortable, bracing his hand against Lewis’ chest.

Lewis splays his hands wide around Sebastian’s thighs, the tightness of strained muscles beneath his palms adding to the force behind the groan that escapes his lips from just how very good Sebastian feels clenching around him. Sebastian circles his hips a couple of times, groaning himself at the feeling of Lewis deep inside him, and then raises himself until Lewis’ cock head is catching and lightly tugging against his rim, only just keeping him in place.

Sebastian pauses, smirks, waits, because he knows how hungry Lewis is to look down at where their bodies are joined, at where Sebastian is now sinking down on him again and filling himself up. He does it again; raising himself slowly, his neck arching at the drag of Lewis inside him, pausing then lowering himself once more.

Lewis’ hands fall as though boneless to the sheets, his feet flush against the bed, knees spread. He spreads them further, and the movement as Sebastian sinks down on him again has Sebastian grunting and cursing out. Lewis curls his fingers to grip onto the sheets, eyes intently on himself slipping in and out of Sebastian, as Sebastian rides him slowly, his head thrown back with these soft moans that Lewis swears go straight to his own cock.

Sebastian brings up a hand to wrap around himself; Lewis’s mouth dries as he watches Sebastian circle his thumb over his own head and moan out loud again. Sebastian slicks himself up, finding a rhythm to fuck into his hand as he fucks himself down on Lewis, the most delicious of noises escaping out of him, until Lewis has to start taking some for himself.

Lewis raises his hands again, grips hard around Sebastian’s hips, braces his feet against the bed and thrusts up at the angle he’s learned will have Sebastian crying out his name. The stuttering, breathy Lewis he hears is the confirmation he needs to go harder, to grip tighter, to pound up into Sebastian without any further holding back at all.

Lewis is chasing Sebastian’s reaction every time his cock head glances over his prostate, eyes fixed on the way his lips form these little ohs each, and every time another one escape has Lewis gasping himself. Pretty soon Lewis is lost to chasing that warmth spreading out through his core that’s sending sparks and jolts of pleasure through him, urging him to drive up harder, grip tighter, take more, and he is lost to thinking of anything else but being inside Sebastian.

Sebastian is clearly eager for even more himself, slamming his hips down against Lewis’ thrusts, calling out a litany of dirty encouragement, grunting and groaning out one long, wordless sound. It is always at this point when they’re together like this when both of them lose control, littering the air with gasps of encouragement and the rapid slap of skin on flushed skin.

But Sebastian, it seems, has other ideas, ideas that mean prolonging this even more than they already have done at this early hour of the morning. He presses a hand firmly against Lewis’ sternum, wordlessly asking him to slow, and Lewis does that instantly, panting hard with exertion, pressing his ass back against the bed to fight against the way his own hips twitch for him to take even more.

Sebastian takes a stuttering breath, and then he’s back to raising himself slowly, sliding down on Lewis’ cock even slower, and circling his hips, the movements deliberate and slow so they can both feel every drag of Lewis’ cock deep inside him, making them both moan out long, desperate gasps.

Lewis watches Sebastian fighting against going faster, short, stabbing breaths speaking of the effort it’s taking him to keep this slow, to enjoy every languid thrust and stroke. Sebastian leans down for another kiss; there is something about being buried inside Sebastian like this and barely moving when they’re kissing, that has Lewis’ stomach jolt and flip in the most delicious of ways.

Sebastian raises and eases himself down on Lewis then, flaring his hips insistently so that Lewis is as deep inside him as he possibly can get. Lewis answers by fucking up into him at that just right, practised angle, and Sebastian grinds down on him hard, whimpering, and shakily wrapping his hands around Lewis shoulders to hold on.

Lewis holds on for as long as he can, but the heat is too much, Sebastian feels so good, so tight around him, and he needs to chase his release right now, because any longer feels impossible. Sebastian’s fingers tighten, and he’s spreading his knees a little wider, slamming his hips hard down on Lewis unrelenting, urging him to keep going, and looking just as desperate as Lewis feels.

Lewis’s grip around Sebastian’s waist as he fucks up into him is brutal enough to leave marks, and knowing how Sebastian will admire and smirk at the marks in the mirror and then kiss him for it just encourages Lewis on even more, bucking and driving up into him, crying out Sebastian’s name as he writhes and rocks on his lap.

Sebastian shifts and begins to fist himself faster, his desperate grip on Lewis’ shoulder slipping as he rides Lewis as hard as he can, and then he’s tensing, groaning, hot white spurts covering his hand and painting a stripe across Lewis’ chest as he calls out in a broken, desperate moan. Lewis groans as Sebastian tightens around him, that fluttering feeling proving the final push to take him over the edge as well. He grips Sebastian harder, gives two, three sharp thrusts, and arches up on the bed into Sebastian with such force, that Sebastian is jostled forward, landing with a huff on Lewis’ chest as he slips.

Sebastian rights himself once he’s caught his breath a little, grinning down at Lewis in wicked triumph, circling his hips a little sloppily now that he is slick with Lewis cum. To see him doing that has Lewis dropping his head back against the pillow with a grunt, his hands sliding up Sebastian’s sides as he presses their chests together. Lewis feels a rush of what he thinks must be contentment, as Sebastian kisses the corner of his mouth, nuzzles against his jaw, and drops his head down on his shoulder with a deep, satisfied sigh.

“Does this count as you getting lucky?” Sebastian asks, the mirth-tinged words kissed into his neck.

Lewis looks up at him questioningly when Sebastian pulls back, and Sebastian nods, leans back again, pressing gentle kisses along Lewis’s jawline, before turning his head and pressing open mouth kisses along his neck. He takes the time to stop, lathe his tongue there, then bite hard enough to leave a tiny trace his own marks on Lewis’s skin, pulling back enough to swipe his thumb there and smirk at his handiwork.

“You were talking in your sleep. Again,” Sebastian murmurs into his ear when he bends back down, nuzzling at the sensitive skin just behind it and humming to himself.

“Uh…” Lewis stumbles out, embarrassed, his heart racing at how many times those insecurities might have slipped from his mouth unchecked.

“We’re doing this. We’re good,” Sebastian tells him, those earlier dirty kisses replaced with tender ones that have Lewis rooted to the spot, feeling cared for and wanted in ways he’s not sure he’s ever known in the past.

Sebastian smiles at Lewis adoringly then, as though he can read his very thoughts. He kisses him once more, long, and thorough, then holds on to Lewis’ arm as he leans over the bed to retrieve his t-shirt from earlier, and cleans them both up a little with a lazy, sleepy swipe.

Sebastian lays beside him then, insistently pressing against Lewis’s shoulder to turn him away, just to pull him back firmly against his chest and tuck in his knees behind Lewis’ own. His splays a hand across Lewis’ stomach, and Lewis can’t help feeling claimed, but only in the best kind of ways.

There are soft kisses that follow to the back of his neck, growing increasingly softer the closer Sebastian gets to falling asleep. Lewis hears a soft but determined mine muttered into his skin, and then he feels the slackening in Sebastian’s grip that announces he’s finally gone. Lewis breathes out deeply, smiling into the darkness and feeling thoroughly sated, allowing himself the luxury of thinking that perhaps, once in a while, he really does get to have this kind of luck.

With a tiny stretch to get comfortable, Lewis finally allows himself to relax, and lets Sebastian’s warmth around him lull him into a dreamless sleep.

On Being Guided

Jason’s recently acknowledged his attraction for men. His friend- now boyfriend, Michael, is helping him come to terms with that.

This is NOT safe for work, just to warn you. For those of you who follow/have followed me elsewhere, you might recognise this story in another guise 😉

“I’m sorry for being such a girl about this,” Jason mumbles, and instantly looks up at the click of disapproval Michael is giving him.

“I’ll never understand why being nervous about a new experience is something that is purely a feminine thing,” Michael tells him with a stern look, “or why being ‘a girl’ in this situation is meant to be something derogatory,”

Jason winces, instantly chastised, and reaches out his fingers to tangle around Michael’s. He’s not used to this, not used to watching his words, thinking before he’s speaking, and up until a few weeks ago, when he gave into his interest in Michael, Jason had thought nothing of the usual banter that he’d grown up hearing from his father and older brother. It’s been a steep learning curve, and Michael has been a very attentive teacher. In more ways than one.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” he says, grimacing to himself. “It’s just a… kneejerk kind of expression,”

“It is an outdated one,” Michael tells him firmly again, raising a shrewd eyebrow.

For a moment, Jason feels cornered, like he always does when he’s said something wrong. But soon Michael is relenting, rolling his eyes a little, but smiling as he nudges himself in between Jason’s legs where he’s sitting, and bending down to kiss him.

“There is nothing wrong with being nervous about this, Jason. It would be ridiculous if you weren’t,”

Jason purses his lips together and nods, trying to believe that.

It’s a few weeks into, what Michael still gets the strangest jolt in his stomach for acknowledging, their relationship, and while they’ve grown skilled with their fingers and mouths on each other, they’ve still been moving the physical side of things between them along at a slow, undemanding pace.

Yesterday, when Michael had trapped their leaking cocks between their stomachs and rolled down on Jason until they both came, Jason had allowed himself to wonder what it might feel like to have something more. The subsequent ache all the way up inside him for imagining that had him closing his eyes to it, and tucking himself firmly into Michael’s side.

Jason and Michael have known each other a couple of years now, forming an instant friendship when they’d been paired with one another in an evening Spanish class and gone for a beer afterwards. Speaking in Spanish is fairly easy for them after all this time, with neutral subjects such as ordering food and discussing opinions on whatever is in the news. But actual, honest speaking in his own native tongue, revealing what he honestly thinks and feels, is an alien concept to Jason. Yet another thing that Michael has been going out of his way to teach him.

So, because speaking is a thing they do with each other now, instead of loaded silences and so many possibilities for misunderstandings, Jason had said exactly that. How he thought he might be ready to take that further step between them. How he wanted to find out what it might feel like to have Michael actually inside him. The moment the words were passed his lips, Jason felt that aching clench again, and realised just how badly he really, really wanted that to happen.

Michael’s pupils had dilated to hear it, and Jason had watched as he’d swallowed repeatedly before he could speak. His kisses had been loaded with want, and promise, and carefully they agreed that it would happen sometime soon.

Very soon.

Telling himself they weren’t going to make a big deal out of this, Jason had mumbled a suggestion about maybe getting a room somewhere so they had privacy for it. Not that it was a big deal, or that they were making an event out of it or anything like that. Not out loud, anyway.

And as he’d packed up an overnight bag, Jason’s eyes had fallen onto the bottle of lube he’d brought with blushing cheeks at the pharmacy, and he’d had to drop down on the bed, clutching his head in his hands, and tell himself not to be such an idiot.

But here they were now, in a hotel much too nice not to acknowledge the importance of what was about to happen between them.

Michael uses the tangle of their fingers to guide Jason to his feet, dropping them to cup his face and pull him closer for a gentle kiss. Jason sighs into it, wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist and dropping his eyes closed as Michael presses right up against him.

Undressing each other has become something of a cherished routine between them, with every revealing of skin comes a brushing of lips or hands, leaving them both gasping for more. As always, Michael is the one who’s guiding them to lay down on the bed, and as his hand runs up from Jason’s knee, to his thigh, and rests lightly on his hip as he leans over him, the look he gives Jason is nothing but heated.

Jason reaches out a hand and wraps it around Michael’s cock, as Michael begins a trail of kisses over his skin. He doesn’t miss a spot; neck, cheek, ear, only pausing to give the occasional thrust into Jason’s hand and follow it up with a soft groan.

Michael reaches down and gently grips around Jason’s wrist, bringing it and his other hand to lie flat on the bed at waist level, and pins them there. He’s leaning completely over Jason and kneeling between his legs, and begins a trail of kisses down his chest.

When he’s at eye level with Jason’s cock, he glances up for a second, then flicks his tongue out and over the head, smirking at the stutter Jason gives in response. Michael wants to suck him into his mouth entirely, but already knows Jason’s body well enough not to overstimulate him all in one go. So, he moves on, raining kisses over his stomach, hips, and down his thighs, before pressing another kiss into each kneecap. With light fingers, he lifts Jason’s knees, encouraging him to lay his feet flat against the bed.

Michael presses lightly on Jason’s inner thighs until they’re parted as comfortably as he can get them. Only then does he look up and over Jason, and the look Michael gives him then makes Jason’s cock twitch just to see how much he’s wanted. With another kiss to his thigh, Michael leans up for a moment to reach for the bottle of lube Jason’s got next to him on the pillow. He kneels back between Jason’s legs, looking down at the bottle in thought before uncapping it.

“You know, Jason,” he begins, drizzling the gel onto his fingers, “I still can’t believe you’d never even used lube for you and me started… you know,” then raises his eyes to Jason and smirks. Jason’s cock twitches again, and Michael reaches out to swipe up the precum there, smiling again as Jason judders at his touch.

“I know,” Jason manages to choke out, “I know. But-”

“I’m not complaining, here. Seeing your face the first time I jerked you off with my hand all slicked up is probably one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life,” he says triumphantly, scissoring his fingers in mid-air as he warms the gel. “Are you ready?” he asks then, glancing back up to Jason.

Jason sucks in a breath and nods rapidly, swallowing hard. His eyes are fixed firmly on Michael’s fingers as they dip between his legs, and as Michael uses one hand to hold him gently open, Jason’s juddering breath makes Michael pause, and look back up.

“Jason-”

“It’s okay. It’s good. Just… nervous,” Jason chokes out, nodding at him and opening his legs a little wider.

Michael looks back down, and slowly presses the tip of his finger in until the first knuckle disappears, glancing up again. Jason is nodding, so he slides in a little further, and a little more, until Jason’s blowing out a shallow breath, and flicking him a smile that tells him to keep going.

So Michael does exactly that, pressing his finger in as far as it can go. He stays there, letting Jason get used to the feel of the intrusion for a moment before withdrawing it again. He pumps it in again slowly, drawing it back out, then slowly in again, and it’s on the third stroke in that Jason gives a surprised moan that says he’s liking it.

Michael glances up, receiving another smile that encourages him on. He continues stroking in and out of Jason whilst holding eye contact, and Jason’s breathing becomes heavier as he watches. When Michael withdraws his finger this time and he feels him pushing in two at once, the strange, burning pleasured sensation it shoots through him has Jason dropping his head back against the pillow in a thud. Michael keeps stroking into him as though he’s in no hurry at all, smiling at the noises Jason is making.

It’s when he presses in and around Jason’s walls, scissoring his fingers and glancing them against his prostate, that Jason lets out a long, low grown, and arches up, unconsciously pressing himself down on Michael’s fingers with a grunt.

By the time Michael has drizzled more lube on his fingers and is sliding three fingers in and out of him at a steady pace, Jason is a whimpering mess, writhing and shaking his head back and forth on his pillow as his cock strains erect and leaking.

“Do you think you are ready, Jason?” Michael asks, and Jason’s grabbing for him as though he’s trying to drag him up the bed.

Michael shifts onto his knees again from where he’d sat cross legged as he’d worked Jason open, rolls a condom over himself, and with his fingers pumping into Jason to keep him used to the feeling, he awkwardly uncaps the lube and slicks himself up.

Michael kneels forward, lining himself up between his fingers to press bluntly against him, looking at Jason again, to make sure he is absolutely sure. When Jason nods, Michael slowly withdraws his hand, and he’s convinced he can hear Jason’s heart thudding. He presses his hole open with his thumbs and rests his cock head there, but doesn’t move any further until Jason nods again.

Michael rolls his hips only a touch, and only until the head of his cock slips inside him. He bites back the groan rippling through him at how good that feels, because Jason’s stuttering and tensing beneath him, and Michael doesn’t want to rush him. So Michael waits, until he feels Jason relax enough for him to push in again.

He gets a little further in, and Jason’s scrambling his hands out for him, calling out Michael’s name in a panic and gripping hard on to his forearms. Michael stops, slides his hands up and on to Jason’s stomach and rests them there, waiting again. He smiles when Jason unscrews his eyes and stares up at him in astonishment, and in another moment, he feels the give around his cock that says he can press in again.

Jason’s breathing out shallower and shallower with every inch that Michael is filling him, and when Michael is fully inside him, Jason lets out a soft, choked cry that immediately has Michael tensing up with worry.

He leans forward to kiss Jason softly, nuzzling against him. “Are you okay?” he mumbles into his lips, then pulls back enough so that he can see all of his face, to make sure that Jason is going to be honest about what he’s thinking, and feeling.

Jason nods his head frantically, shakes it a little, then laughs at himself. “I don’t know, Michael. It feels… I don’t know how it feels,” he says, and Michael knows he’s holding his breath, tensing against the feel of him buried inside him, not knowing what to do with it yet.

“Can we give it a minute?” Jason asks haltingly, his fingers fluttering anxiously at Michael’s sides, seeming torn between wanting to touch him, wanting to not offend him by not being more enthusiastic already, and just plain scared.

“Of course. We’ll take as much time as you need,” Michael reassures him, before smiling again, shifting so that he can brace himself against the bed better, and starts a long, leisurely kiss, that soon has Jason sighing out relaxed and reaching his arms up to loop around his neck.

“I think you can move now,” Jason whispers against his lips after a little while, and Michael waits another moment before doing just that.

Michael can’t stop the groan escaping this time as he rocks himself out and slides all the way back into him, because Jason feels so good, so tight, warm and slick, and everything feels so right, that there’s no way to not show how much he’s enjoying this. And after a few, purposefully slow thrusts, Jason’s giving that soft, surprised moan of appreciation he’d given earlier, letting his hands drift down Michael’s back and rest around his hips.

Michael rocks into him and does his best to keep his movements even, and steady, and Jason’s breaths are coming out more and more erratic and surprised. When Michael shifts how he’s kneeling, Jason lets out a stifled bark of a grunt, and Michael smirks, knowing exactly what, and where, his cock is hitting. He winks at Jason, and Jason gives a small burst of laughter to see it, then begins rolling his hips up in time with Michael’s, still with that look of utter amazement on his face.

And soon they’re a writhing, moaning mess, lips pressed into skin and glancing against one another as Michael reaches between them and begins stroking Jason’s cock. Jason lets out a noise that sounds a lot like a keening whimper, and he’s glancing down at Michael’s hand around him and up at his face like he’s about to burst with every sensation he’s experiencing at once.

Michael slows his pace a touch because of Jason’s expression, and now Jason really is whimpering, grabbing him impossibly closer, shaking his head, pleading brokenly for Michael to keep fucking him just there

At the encouragement, Michael is relentless, and Jason is choking out, tensing up, chanting his name hoarsely as his orgasm builds, and builds, and builds to an intensity where there’s a roar in his ear and a wave rushing through him, and he’s coming in a long arch that feels like it starts somewhere up at his throat and ends down at where Michael is deep inside him. Michael moans out to see it, and uncontrollably starts pounding into him harder, falling forward, growling out Jason’s name until he stiffens, arching hard against him, before spilling himself in Jason with a deep, rumbling groan.

Michael falls forward on Jason’s chest, and Jason gives a little huff at the weight of him, before pressing an absent kiss into the side of his head. He wraps his arms tightly around him, holding Michael firmly in place for a moment as his heart continues racing, before Michael is sliding himself out and falling heavily beside him.

The moment Michael hits the bed, he’s opening his arms wide to Jason and whispering for him to, “Come here,” then wrapping his arms securely around him as Jason buries himself into his chest. Michael rubs soothing circles into his back and repeatedly drops kisses down on the top of his head, until he feels the tremble in Jason subside, and knows that he is calm.

Michael waits a little longer, until Jason raises his head and looks up at him, his mouth curving up with a smile that is both shocked, and happily sated. It’s at that point that Michael grins at him, leaps up with a lot more energy than Jason thinks he should be feeling, and definitely doesn’t feel himself, and returns with a wash cloth to gently clean him down. Then he’s crawling back beside Jason, pulling him into his arms again, and kissing him firmly on the mouth, all while still grinning wide.

“Don’t know what you’re looking so pleased with yourself about,” Jason grumbles, although his grin has spread just as stupidly.

“Yes, you do,” Michael tells him, raising an eyebrow as he smiles once more. Then presses forward and claims another kiss.

As Nature Intended

When you first learn that you are an Omega, you learn all sorts of things you never imagined you would need to know when you were growing up. The essentials: Heat suppressants, scent masking, how to handle an Alpha that is scenting you, and of course, the laws that are in place to protect you, in a society that is accepting and progressive, yet still has elements of its attitudes stuck firmly in the past. You also learn that through no fault of your own, or conscious effort, it is possible for an Omega to adjust their body chemistry, to make themselves ready to do what some feel is their sole purpose in life: to breed.

Presenting as an Omega at the age of fourteen, Elliot has grown up cautious, distrustful of the world around him, yet determined to live a fulfilling life in spite of that. He is successful at work, has recently moved into a new apartment, and everything in his world appears to be falling into place. Which is, of course, exactly when his body decides to rebel, forcing ideas and urges into Elliot that he has spent his life trying to deny.

Enter reluctant Alpha, Oskar; as adamant as Elliot that he will not have his life disrupted by what he is, and just as horrified by his instincts as Elliot is finding himself about his own. Should they fight the inevitability that is their bond, that need they have for one another that will not get them a moment’s respite, or give in to just how easy, and effortless it feels between them?

Read here

As Nature Intended

 

When you first learn that you are an Omega, you learn all sorts of things you never imagined you would need to know when you were growing up. The essentials: Heat suppressants, scent masking, how to handle an Alpha that is scenting you, and of course, the laws that are in place to protect you, in a society that is accepting and progressive, yet still has elements of its attitudes stuck firmly in the past. You also learn that through no fault of your own, or conscious effort, it is possible for an Omega to adjust their body chemistry, to make themselves ready to do what some feel is their sole purpose in life: to breed.

Presenting as an Omega at the age of fourteen, Elliot has grown up cautious, distrustful of the world around him, yet determined to live a fulfilling life in spite of that. He is successful at work, has recently moved into a new apartment, and everything in his world appears to be falling into place. Which is, of course, exactly when his body decides to rebel, forcing ideas and urges into Elliot that he has spent his life trying to deny.

Enter reluctant Alpha, Oskar; as adamant as Elliot that he will not have his life disrupted by what he is, and just as horrified by his instincts as Elliot is finding himself about his own. Should they fight the inevitability that is their bond, that need they have for one another that will not get them a moment’s respite, or give in to just how easy, and effortless it feels between them?

Read here