Ciara returned from walking Velvel to find Angus sitting at the Churton Place, the London townhouse, kitchen counter slumped over a cold cup of bad tea dressed in mixed matched workout clothes. “Slept with my brother again, eh?” Velvel rounded Angus’s ankles, sniffed the man’s ass, nodded it’s head and pranced off to his crate.
Angus gave the dog a frown to avoid eye contact with Ciara. “What of it?” he snapped.
“Well,” she retorted, taking the mug from his hands and dumping the contents in the nearby sink, “I hope at least my brother’s skills deserve a better morning after welcome than whatever you just put in that cup!” She shook her head teasingly and retrieved an infuser and some herbs from a sealed container from the overhead cabinet. She put the kettle on and turned around toward him to affectionately rest her hand on his shoulder. But before her fingers got close to the top of his brown tee shirt, Angus nearly leaped out of his skin.
“Aw!” He looked at her like someone afraid of being tickled.
Initially, she looked at his withdrawn stance – as if he was a man with no skin – with incredulousness. Then, although she didn’t have the extrasensory skills with humans like Deetz did, she had enough understanding of Angus to realize what had happened. She squinted at him then said, “He touched you, touched you in a way you don’t know what to do with. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Angus looked down at his hands as he wrung them together albeit loosely, like an arthritic who knows the action will not ease the pain. “Every nerve ending on my skin is on fire.” He paused then looked up at her pleadingly, “I’ve got to get a hold of myself.”
Ciara smiled understandingly then turned to replace the mug with a thermos and replaced one set of herbs for another. While preparing a herb concoction that would assist with mental clarity, she said, “Go work out. Spend a day or so at your father’s club.” She mixed her components like an early 19th Century local chemist. Once done, she handed him the thermos. “This will return your nerves back to normal. Your head will have to reconcile itself with your heart.”
He tied up his auburn hair with a rubber band and grabbed up his gym bag before taking the thermos. “You think I’m being melodramatic.”
“No, Luv,” she said honestly. “All things concerned, with my brother being involved, I think you’re holding up quite well. Now, go on!” She wanted Angus to leave as she suspected Deetz would wake up in a similar state of bewilderment and the two bewildered men, both used to a maximum amount of self and environmental control, would be a volatile combination. In her limited experience, love at the best of times, for which this wasn’t exactly, was more like baking than cooking – the latter offered much more room for improvising than the former. If she was going to support Lady Nora’s, Angus’s aunt’s, cause of love matches between Glamorgan men and their valets, Ciara was going to have to play this one close to the chest.
Angus did as Ciara had encouraged. The workout gave him time to think and try to regain his body back from the most profound sexual experience in his life. Everything about what happened between him in Deetz last night gave him pause to reconsider what he thought sex was supposed to be like. While running on the treadmill, Angus wondered if he had been blind, duped into thinking it was all about “putting part A into slot B, then repeat until ejaculation”. 35 minutes later, while lifting hand weights, he was angry at his stupidity and admonishing himself for a lack of sophistication. Another 25 minutes, he joined a yoga class, which was a bad idea because it reawakened those nerve endings such that by the end of the class, he was nearly orgasmic. He took a cool shower, deciding that next he’d have a light brunch and read the paper in the lounge before calling on a few of his father’s friends – a practical, very British distraction.
Instead, he found himself seated at a window, staring out seemingly blankly with the newspaper covering the evidence of his thoughts. His eyes closed and he fell into a twilight sleep where dreams and memories tend to be the most brilliant. Years later, when they talked about these initial moments together, Angus would realize that they came in the relationship and toward one another from very different places. And it would be that realization that would confirm to them that magic really does exist but that destiny always needs a little nudging.
************************************
Angus was very aware of how much Deetz held back the few times they’d been together previously. Even at that first kiss, Angus recognized that Deetz’s sarcastic remarks afterward, although annoying, were an attempt to retain some bit of dignity. Angus knew Deetz wanted to respond wantonly and without restraint but didn’t both out of fear of rejection and uncertainty if Angus found these physical encounters an enjoyable but momentary distraction. Angus knew all this and liked how powerful it made him feel. But once he gave Deetz the reigns and means to let loose, Angus was the one ill-prepared for the resulting onslaught and oh how good it felt.
Mozart’s Piano Concerto #24 in C minor was floating between whiffs of sandalwood from a soy candle and sweet ganja. The shimmering light of the moon coming through the window combined with the light veil of sweat covering Angus’s naked skin made him look like glaze on Christmas ham. This vision stopped Deetz at the doorway and held him there – breathing shallow and rapid. He had no idea how he was going to make love to this man slow and steady when standing at the door was making him so aroused his hands were shaking. “Get a hold of yourself, Deetz!” he murmured.
“Huh?” Angus asked before lighting his pipe. The weed felt good but it didn’t sweep away his sheepishness. He couldn’t look at Deetz so kept his gaze straight ahead. “I don’t have much in the way of jazz or classical on my system so I hope this’s okay.”
“Angus? Are you sure you want to do this?” Because Deetz was certain. He had masturbated to this fantasy since he was 12. Typically, he was a bottom kinda guy but he was modern about that – flexible, dominant, determined about how he wanted his stimulation. Deetz had a goal when he fucked. His orgasm came from the pleasing and pleasure he saw in another. So whenever he dreamed of fucking or being fucked by Angus, it was always the sounds and sights of the other man’s enjoyment that led to Deetz’s climax. But now that the opportunity lay so beautifully across the bed, he didn’t know if he could ensure his eagerness wouldn’t override sensibility.
“I think you can handle it.” Frankly, Angus was counting on it. He could smell the seething desire dripping from Deetz’s pours. Angus wasn’t sure he would enjoy someone’s cock in his ass but he knew he was going to love the attempt to control that long held lust. He knew there was something sick, a bit devious about this desire but he couldn’t help it – wasn’t sex all about the conquering and the conquered?
But Angus should have known better as everything in this renewed relationship had surprised him, especially that first kiss. Little did Deetz know about the fevered sessions of masturbation Angus had had since, typically in the shower because the water pulsing then cascading against his skin so closely mimicked those first sensations. The memory brushed against his mind and he absent-mindedly touched his penis. Deetz saw this and attributed it to Angus’s eagerness. “Turn over on your stomach,” Deetz said, his back toward Angus while he put down the anal sex essentials – lube, condoms, and scented massage oil – down and tried to undress nonchalantly, hiding his quivering.
Angus turned over then placed a pillow underneath his belly. Deetz poured the warm oil on his cool back and that started the sizzle. Deetz’s hands did everything else. From that point forward, Angus knew it was Deetz’s hands, which were as intuitive as the man’s mind, that was really doing the fucking. He used the heel of his hand to massage the pressure points and the fingers to trace along sensitive areas on his back. The latter were areas producing sensations Angus didn’t know were possible. His entire body was on fire and the light, sweet mint smell from the oil in combination with the weed kept him so relaxed, he had to remind himself to breathe.
But, Deetz was still nervous. “Like I said, we’ll need to take it slow, not banging away like those guys in the video. Their asses are used to it. After all, they are professionals.”
“Relax. I’ve been thinking about this. The way I reckon, it doesn’t make sense to be with a bloke if you don’t let him fuck you once and a while. Just doesn’t seem fair otherwise.”
“Oh, so this is some intellectual exercise? Am I your lab rat?”
“A rat whose about to ride my virgin ass,” Angus managed to giggle.
It wasn’t clear who moaned first or the longest when Deetz put his greased finger in Angus’s ass but it was clear who yelped when the third one went in. Angus bucked back toward Deetz’s hand, quietly pleading for more in several different languages – he was a linguist after all. But, the timeline was coming to an end and a decision had to be made – cross a line or stop dead.
Angus felt the pain when Deetz put the head of his dick inside as cheese must feel when you cut it. It concentrated all those warm, fuzzy feelings from around his body right to his sphincter. Angus was shaking subtly but Deetz could feel it. It was driving Deetz crazy and Angus knew it – such a fabulous blessing. Angus wanted to thank that G-d of Deetz’s but Jewish prayers were rather complicated and he didn’t want to be sacrilegious. So he said plainly, “Deetz,” he half groaned and half spoke, “do it like they did in that movie!”
“What movie? What did they do?” Deetz knew exactly what movie Angus meant – the BDSM porn they’d seen at the club, where one guy was plowing another so deep you could hear the popping over the screams.
“The guys were on their sides, spooning kinda. The other guy seemed to enjoy it . . . came really hard. I wanna cum like that.”
“This may not be as comfortable like we were doing before. I don’t want to hurt you.” Truth was, Deetz didn’t think he could control himself anymore. He was already half way inside of Angus and holding back was making it difficult to stay hard. His dick was exhausted. Another line in the sand. But, as Angus would discover later, this wasn’t a line between being straight or gay, bottom or top. It was about being all in.
And Angus was British – in for a penny, in for a pound. He reached around and grabbed what he could of Deetz’s hip and pulled him closer, while Deetz’s dick did the rest. “Oi!” Angus sighed against the pressure, pain, and the growing imperative to see this to its natural end.
Deetz took in a reconciliatory deep breath and gave his cock some power. “You’re really gonna take all this cock you know,” he snarled against Angus’s ear. “Your ass is gonna get filled by me, owned by me.” And Deetz started rocking, in and out like a distance runner, not a race horse.
The deeper Deetz got - the harder the drive – the more his love radiated throughout Angus’s body. This was crazy sex. Angus wasn’t much on self-reflection – too busy doing to be thinking, as that was Deetz’s responsibility. But now, that dick’s thrusts and those magic hands grabbing, tugging, and restraining – this oncoming climax made Angus wonder if all that previous fucking he’d done, all the ladies who’d traded their smiles and time for the privilege of having royal dick down their throats and a £11 rubber in their pussies, was a waste of time. This here wasn’t sex. What Deetz was offering was love-making and his offer was going to be hard to resist.
|
“Reese,” an older voice called out, waking Angus out of the lustful demi-dream and making him cover his privates more tightly with the unread newspaper. “I assume you haven’t read that tabloid.”
It was Scott Ballwin, the Earl of Pindelbery and an old friend of his father’s. His starched shirt and 1980s styled suit in comparison to his Dad’s stylish manner made Angus wonder what hold this curmudgeon had over the 11th Earl of Glamorgan. “Mr. Ballwin,” Angus answered coolly, “I didn’t see you at my Father’s funeral.”
“So sorry, old boy,” the portly man said while he dropped himself on a leather chair across from Angus. “I got caught with some work for Her Majesty.” Ballwin worked for the Secret Services Committee in the House of Commons. Likely, now that Angus’s thought about it, the old man knew about the elder Reese’s business with MI-6. “You, however, seem to be keeping busy.” The man’s plump, arthritic fingers lifted a copy of the same newspaper that protected Angus’s pride. He waved the front page at Angus like a flag of victory. “’The New Gay Earl!’” Ballwin read aloud. He looked at the picture from the previous evening of Deetz and Angus rushing out of the gay club after a fight with some locales. “I would have never pegged you for a poof but then again, you Glamorgans have a history of that.” Ballwin snorted, threw the newspaper at Angus’s feet, got up and walked off like the self-righteous prick he had likely been since conception.
And now things were going to get complicated.
- From “The Musings of Deetz Mac Innes”, 10/8/2016
No comments:
Post a Comment