F'list Love
Apr. 13th, 2007 03:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdSo, word is going around that we need to love on our F'list.
Now, you know I love all y'all.
So...
here's a couple songs, and some pretty pictures, and some porn. Because I <3 all of you.
The Coast of High Barbary one of my favorites.
How bad do you want it. My theme song right now.
And no love is complete without some porn.
From "Tuition fees", coming this month, and the (hopefully) forthcoming story "Paying Forfeits." (posted with permission of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eyeless_angel, my coauthor)
Special thanks todrewbeartx for the phrase "mr. Yummybutt"
From "Tuition Fees" Coming in April from Torquere
After dinner, Chris barely noticed the glare Nick shot at him as he gathered his art materials. He fumbled his easel on the stairs, and had to sit down until his stomach stopped knotting. He got himself together and made it to the parlor. He swallowed until his mouth wasn’t quite as dry and knocked at the door.
Morgenstern smiled as he opened the door and Chris leaned a little on the wall for support because his knees no longer wanted to hold him up. He followed the professor into the parlor.
The lesson demanded complete concentration. Morgenstern moved quickly, requiring much from Chris. Chris performed brilliantly. He’d always worked well under pressure.
“Excellent, little artist.” Morgenstern seized him by the shoulders and kissed him in congratulation as he finished adding his initials to the stark landscape.
The long-desired kiss took Chris by surprise. He melted before it, and then returned it, reaching his paint-smeared hands up to Morgenstern’s hair before he realized it. He left grey and brown and black smudges in the fair hair and on his teacher’s face.
Morgenstern did no more than laugh. “Eager child.” He blotted at his face with a handkerchief. The kiss left Chris too fuddled to notice the ease with which the paint vanished. “Clean your brushes and yourself, then come with me.”
Chris made a fast but thorough clean up, and went to where Morgenstern waited near a door behind a tapestry. To his surprise, the professor’s bedroom looked exactly like a student room, save there was only one desk and one armoire. The four-poster was identical to the one he shared with Nick. He’d expected something much more personal, more lived-in. Only the Gustav Dore engraving of Lucifer Cast Out from Paradise Lost marked the room as any different. Chris lingered at the foot of the bed.
Morgenstern had settled himself on the bed, already in his dressing gown. “Talk to me, little artist.”
“How do you do these things?” Chris’s eyes were large. Morgenstern merely lifted an eyebrow and Chris elaborated, “You move too fast to be seen. I barely make it to the foot of the bed and you’re already changed. You clean messes with barely a wave. How?”
“Little one, are you so dense? Do you not know me?” Morgenstern’s smile never faltered.
“We talk. Marcelo says you’re the Devil himself. I don’t believe in it.”
Morgenstern laughed, and Chris realized he was the butt of the joke. “It doesn't matter what you believe. Believe the moon is made of green cheese for all I care.” He lounged, seemingly heedless of how the dressing gown was falling. For all that Chris had always heard angels were sexless, the man before him was demonstrably male. Based on observation, he was twice the man Nick was. Chris went as Morgenstern beckoned him to the bed.
“Whether you believe or not, and no matter what churchmen say, I remain Archangel Lucifiel, Light of God and best beloved of the Father. The one who loved God enough to take on the most despised of duties, that of Adversary.” He ran a hand over Chris’s trembling shoulder. “Why should having it said upset you so? You knew, did you not? What do you fear?”
“I don’t want it to be true,” Chris blurted. “I can’t believe, can’t comprehend.”
“Do you want me? Do you comprehend what we are doing?”
Chris nodded.
“Will you tell me if I am hurting?”
“I’ll try not to scream too loud, yeah.”
Morgenstern hooked the tip of his index finger under Chris’s chin and drew him down for a kiss. He was fire and honey under Chris’s mouth, opening and kissing not with haste or urgency, but with a measured slowness as though they had infinite time to enjoy themselves in nothing more than this kiss.
When Chris finally moved away, Morgenstern gave him another smile. “Fear not, little artist.” He smiled wryly. “It has been millennia since I used the common greeting of my kind to mortals. You will be fine and we will create a work of art between two bodies. Touch me. I will not break, nor will I hurt you.”
Chris’s smile felt sickly on his face. He reached out and traced his teacher’s strong jaw, his chest, his stomach, making his way to the goal. “Yes,” he sighed, wrapping one hand around the thick shaft. He experimented with different grips, different speed, the softness firming into velvety iron.
“Yes,” Morgenstern responded. He smiled, encouraging Chris with each different hold. “Yes, sweet one, that’s perfect,” he sighed when Chris lowered his mouth for a taste.
Chris had wanted this for weeks, ever since Nick started letting him reciprocate on the blow jobs. Morgenstern was clean, and the same sweetness of his mouth was here as well. As Morgenstern grew harder, Chris wasn’t sure he could take all of it. He fitted his mouth around the head, licking under the foreskin, just experimenting, learning as he would with a new brush. He felt Morgenstern’s hands, stroking his hair, his jaw. The soft words from above him were litanies of soothing sound with no meaning. Unlike Nick, Morgenstern never shoved into his mouth. Chris was glad; the monster in his mouth could choke him without trying.
Chris sucked and licked and kissed until his jaw ached. Morgenstern drew him back up for a kiss and held him.
“You do that wonderfully well, little one.”
Chris shot him an impish look. “Practice.”
Morgenstern laughed a little, then kissed him. “I did not climax for a reason, although you had me quite close. I would rather be within you.” He slid one hand along Chris’s body to stroke his ass, feeling the give of his buttocks.
Chris caught his breath and nodded. “Want that too,” was all he managed.
“Gently then, my sweet lover.” Morgenstern rolled Chris away from him and spooned in behind him. He ran his hand over Chris’s body, grazing his cock several times before stopping to stroke it.
“Very gently?” Chris squirmed a little, trying to hold back the orgasm on whose brink he teetered.
Morgenstern kissed his neck. “Come for me. It will relax you.” The words knocked Chris’s precarious control from him and sent him over the edge, spurting all over the professor’s hand. Morgenstern brought his hand to his mouth and licked at it, offering Chris only single finger, mock-grudgingly.
Chris moaned softly as he licked the length of Morgenstern’s long forefinger. His own bland salty flavor combined with the professor’s skin seemed to be making him hotter than ever.
When the finger was clean, Morgenstern began working on him. That finger worked its way into Chris’s body, slick and careful. A second joined it, gentler than the first.
Chris voiced his fear. “Never going to fit in there.”
“It will, little artist, and I will not hurt you.” The passage loosened under his unfailingly gentle ministrations. He added a third finger and used them to form a funnel for more lubricant. Slowly he moved into position and removed the fingers. “Easy now.” He rocked gently against Chris, letting him open under the pressure and not forcing his way in.
Chris hissed at the burn, then yelped when the head worked its way inside his body. He could do this. He bit down hard, then eased up. He took deep breaths, trying to relax so it would stop hurting.
Morgenstern stopped moving and merely held him. “Tell me when you are ready.” He kissed Chris’s neck and stroked his body. He felt Chris relax well before he heard the shaky affirmation. He slipped in, slow, gentle, very careful, until he was buried in the artist’s body.
Chris gave a long, low moan, feeling filled beyond expectations.
“See? I told you, sweet one.” Morgenstern punctuated this with a kiss and was delighted when Chris moved tentatively on him while still in the kiss. Morgenstern smiled into the kiss and continued, his hands stroking even as his tongue did. At length, they broke. “Are you still afraid?”
“Maybe,” Chris hesitated. “Mostly of liking this too much.”
Morgenstern gave a purr like a great lazy cat. “Too much is almost enough.” He took control, moving gently but firmly. To his delight, Chris emitted that low moan again, louder this time. “Sexy boy,” he whispered, stepping up his motion to firm thrusts. “So very good, so tight.” When Chris rolled a bit more onto his stomach, Morgenstern asked. “More?”
“Oh yes...” Chris breathed, parting his legs, trying to give Morgenstern more access to his body. He lost the breathiness and grew loud as Morgenstern moved harder and faster, almost pounding at him.
Morgenstern gave a soft laugh at the filth that poured from his boy, a steady stream of vulgarity that was almost a prayer in its intensity. In return, he pounded very hard for a few strokes. When Chris screamed for more, more, and more, Morgenstern gave it, burying himself completely, with full force of his strength behind the thrust as he came with a scream of his own.
That sound, half wail, half-startled surprise, triggered Chris into an explosive second orgasm. They came down together, Morgenstern kissing Chris’s neck and shoulders.
“Sweet boy,” he whispered.
Chris gasped, “Don't leave yet.”
“I'll stay within as long as I can.” Morgenstern rolled them back to spooning, cradling Chris gently and whispering filthy French poetry until the young man calmed down.
“So good,” Chris said softly.
“So very good, little artist. A work of art in itself.” When Chris laughed, Morgenstern kissed his neck, his ear and his cheek, his lips light and comforting. “You came to my bed fearful: afraid of pain, afraid of my size, afraid of your inexperience. Have I quelled your fears?” He shifted as he softened enough to leave Chris’s body.
Chris rolled to face him. “All of them.” For the first time, he looked deep into Morgenstern’s eyes, losing himself in them, drowning in honey and amber. “I've wanted this for months.” The intensity in his voice drew an answering nod from Morgenstern.
“I knew the first night, from the way you looked at me. You were not simply storing me up to draw. But Walpurgis night seemed a much more appropriate time for a,” he chuckled, “virgin sacrifice.”
From, "Paying Forfeits"
September brought a welcome relief from the mugginess, and toward the end of the month, Sam won a round of Dragonmaster–the cards and plastic gems confusing the other two--and requested an outdoor scene. Billy spent the week taking extra care of the horses and hoping Saturday didn’t get too weird, as costume pieces had tended to do.
“If we are to play this, let us do it by the book.” William flipped his own lacy cuff out of the way and showed Billy how to properly hold the flintlock pistol. “You don’t say ‘stick ‘em up’ or ‘reach for the sky.’ Say ‘stand and deliver’ instead.”
“Stand and deliver. Got it.”
William dropped into a full accent. “Aye, now, into the woods withee.” He watched as Billy clumped off in the thigh boots, the red heels making his gait awkward. The claret velvet coat and the lace made the young man even sexier. He adjusted his own powdered wig and riding clothes as he walked to where Sam was waiting, already astride a dapple grey. His own bay mare whickered at him.
“Those boots make his ass so tempting,” Sam sighed, watching as Billy disappeared into the trees.
“So, we indulge your harpaxophilia, lover.”
“My what?”
“Your taste for rogues, especially highwaymen.” William swung into the saddle. “We are fortunate young Billy is here. I fear I would hardly cut so fine a figure.”
“Handsome old liar,” Sam said, wheeling his grey around and kissing William from the saddle. “You’d look fine. You look very hot now. Lace suits you.”
William shot his cuffs and smiled. “Shall we go then?” They clip-clopped off along the bridle path, talking of nothing much.
At a branch in the path, Billy stepped in front of them, making them rein up short. He glared through the black velvet mask and leveled his chargers.
“Stand and deliver,” he ordered.
William’s chin went up. He dug in his purse and threw a few small coins in the dirt at Billy’s feet. “Toll enough to pass such a road.” He made to ride on. “Come, Samuel.”
Billy grabbed the reins. “Not so fast, my fine gentlemen,” he said getting into the spirit of it. “Your purses and your honor. Dismount.”
Sam eyed him frankly as he swung down. William took a rather ostentatious pinch of snuff and dismissed him at a glance
“I will be speaking to the sheriff. What is the realm coming to that a man can’t ride from town to town without being set upon by thugs and raiders?”
Sam had moved closer and now reached out to touch the mask. “Are you horribly scarred? Are you hideous?” he whispered. “Do you have the desires of a man still?”
“Aye.” Billy seized him and kissed him fiercely. When Sam melted under his mouth, he laughed. “Little lordling. You’re no better than me.”
“Common filth. He was born better than you.” William shrugged. “Very well, have his honor, if you like, if that is what it will take to get us on our way.”
“We’ll see how much better he is when I have him ass-up in the dirt begging for more and harder.”
Sam, his hand half inside the lacy front of Billy’s shirt, looked up. “Hold. I did not say aye to this.”
William took in their position. “Lover mine, if we waited for you to say aye, he'd be fucking you already.” Billy laughed as William dismounted and moved in, his head canted with curiosity. “I would watch him have you. It will amuse me.”
Sam stroked Billy’s mask again. “Do not hurt me? I won't resist,” he promised.
William drew Sam close and kissed him before shoving him at Billy. “Have him. Take him that we may pass.”
Billy caught Sam by his collar, and Sam swallowed hard. “Please?” he begged softly.
“I won't hurt you, boy.” Billy kept a grip on the collar and used his free hand to stroke the side of Sam’s face.
“What will you have of me?” Sam’s own hands touched Billy’s face and coat, stroking the long hair caught into a pony-tail and tied with a black velvet ribbon.
“Your mouth first.”
William caught Sam’s faked look of revulsion. “Do it, Samuel.”
Sam went to his knees, giving a show of reluctance. He unlaced the front of Billy’s pants, and startled himself as he realized the reluctance wasn’t all for show. He wasn’t in the mood to suck cock. He wasn’t really in the mood for Billy at all. He just wanted to make love to William, smell the snuff and cologne, feel the lace and velvet under his fingers. His hands were very slow as he worked at Billy’s pants.
“Hurry up boy, or I will hurt you.”
Sam looked up and took a slow, clumsy lick of his cock, pretending to be unskilled. He sucked the whole thing in, using what he knew would be too much suction.
“I’d really rather you didn’t,” William said. “I'm fond of the boy.”
Billy smacked Sam lightly. “Easy.” He looked at William. “I have no idea why. He can’t suck for shit.”
Sam, unhappy to be doing the blow-job and furious from the smack, let that comment push him over. He bit Billy, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to draw blood. Billy yelled and yanked his cock away. He drew back his fist for real.
“Now you're going to get it.”
Sam got to his feet, determined not to be hit. He spat in the dirt at Billy’s feet, a gesture of contempt. “If you weren't such a revolting sodomite, you wouldn't have gotten bit.” He spat at William’s feet too. “And I'm not yours to give away like a cravat or a pair of boots.”
Billy, unsure how this scene was supposed to go, but suspecting Sam had just rewritten the script, shot a helpless look at William.
“Do behave, lover,” William pleaded. He looked over at Billy. “Shall I take his place for you?”
Billy let his fist uncurl. “No. He's just got to be smarter.” He smacked Sam again.
Sam considered storming off from that, but he had an idea. “Smarter than you are, bandit. I'm not the one out in the woods, getting cold and going hungry.”
Billy looked him over. “Kneel. And put your mouth to better use.”
Sam folded his arms. “No.”
“Samuel...” William warned.
Sam closed the distance to Billy. “Better use, you're saying?” He kissed Billy, long and deep and hard. “That's the kind of use I like.”
He took advantage of Billy’s momentary shock at how fast he’d changed, and shoved the young man against a big oak tree. He pinned Billy there, kissing him for a long time, and then flipped them around so it was his own back pressing against the tree. He gave Billy a wicked smile. “Think you can manage?”
Billy shook his head, confused. “What are you doing, boy?”
Sam smiled again, guileless innocence in every line of his face. “Paying your toll, of course. In my own fashion.” He pressed against Billy, hard now through his own tight pants, and smiled when Billy gave a soft whimper. “Have me, but my mouth moves no lower than your throat.”
William watched and Sam heard a small moan from him as well. He ignored it and kissed Billy again. His fingers trailed over the mask again.
“Are you handsome?” he asked “Do you want me?” He slid his hand between them, running it along the very visible shaft in Billy’s tight breeches. He kissed Billy again, hard and deep. “Take. Let me pay your toll.”
Under guise of getting them both undressed, he managed to get a condom onto Billy and lube him. Sam turned to face the tree, his grey pants at his knees. He rested one arm against the trunk and spread his feet.
Billy had apparently recovered from the turn-around, because he pressed close and nipped Sam’s ear. “Aye,” was all he said, and shoved in, pushing Sam against the tree. “Feels good, Lord Yummybutt.” They were quiet as they screwed, only hard breathing and the sloppy sounds of sex breaking the tree-green silence. Sam stole a look at William, who was leaning against another tree, masturbating as he watched them.
Sam blew him a kiss and moaned as Billy went particularly deep. Billy’s mouth on his neck, and the feel of the mask on the side of his face were making him crazy and he came with a small cry.
Billy laughed. “Lord Sextoy likes what I’m doing,” he whispered to Sam. “Paying tolls should not be a hardship.” A low grunt marked his climax and he stood for a while, pinning Sam to the tree. “I think your lover needs some help, pretty thing.”
He let go of Sam and pulled away. Sam reluctantly moved away from the support of the tree and saw William still stroking himself. Billy gestured with the flintlock.
“Go ahead and give me a show.”
This was much more what Sam really wanted and he went down on William without delay or protest. Billy moved in beside them and Sam glanced up to see him kissing William. Yes, this was exactly how it should be. Despite his temper earlier, he was much more at peace. He felt Billy’s hand in his hair and relaxed more. So perfect. He swallowed when William came, a small gasp escaping him.
“Stand and deliver indeed,” Sam whispered sliding up to kiss both men. “I would hope I delivered adequately?”
Billy laughed, kissed him and swung up onto his horse. He reached a hand down and pulled Sam up to sit in front of him. His arms were warm around Sam’s waist and the mask was soft and sexy against the side of his face when Billy kissed his neck. Billy caught his revived erection and snickered.
“Here I thought only western saddles had horns.” He rode them double back to the stable, William trailing behind them. Billy kissed and whispered dirty sexy things in Sam’s ear until Sam pulled him into the haymow, once the currying was done.
“My turn to exact my toll, you scoundrel,” he laughed, opening the lacy shirt and tight breeches. “You are so fucking hot like this, I was practically coming just watching you walk into the woods.” He dove in for a long hard kiss.
“Don’t hurt me, my lord. I’m at your mercy,” Billy said, but spoiled the pleading with a laugh.
“Lord Yummybutt has no mercy, rogue. None for blackguards and knaves.” He flicked a tongue over Billy’s nipple. “There will be,” he flicked his tongue again, “lashes and blows and battering with strong iron.”
“Promises, promises. The promises of the high are a handful of dead leaves in the purse of the low.” William was watching from the stable, but came in to join them.
“I’ll settle up with you, lover, once I’ve taught this rapscallion his lesson.” Sam went back to kissing Billy.
“Of course. Repetition is everything in learning.” William made himself comfortable on Billy’s other side and settled in for the show.
Now, you know I love all y'all.
So...
here's a couple songs, and some pretty pictures, and some porn. Because I <3 all of you.
The Coast of High Barbary one of my favorites.
How bad do you want it. My theme song right now.
And no love is complete without some porn.
From "Tuition fees", coming this month, and the (hopefully) forthcoming story "Paying Forfeits." (posted with permission of
eyeless_angel, my coauthor)Special thanks to
drewbeartx for the phrase "mr. Yummybutt"From "Tuition Fees" Coming in April from Torquere
After dinner, Chris barely noticed the glare Nick shot at him as he gathered his art materials. He fumbled his easel on the stairs, and had to sit down until his stomach stopped knotting. He got himself together and made it to the parlor. He swallowed until his mouth wasn’t quite as dry and knocked at the door.
Morgenstern smiled as he opened the door and Chris leaned a little on the wall for support because his knees no longer wanted to hold him up. He followed the professor into the parlor.
The lesson demanded complete concentration. Morgenstern moved quickly, requiring much from Chris. Chris performed brilliantly. He’d always worked well under pressure.
“Excellent, little artist.” Morgenstern seized him by the shoulders and kissed him in congratulation as he finished adding his initials to the stark landscape.
The long-desired kiss took Chris by surprise. He melted before it, and then returned it, reaching his paint-smeared hands up to Morgenstern’s hair before he realized it. He left grey and brown and black smudges in the fair hair and on his teacher’s face.
Morgenstern did no more than laugh. “Eager child.” He blotted at his face with a handkerchief. The kiss left Chris too fuddled to notice the ease with which the paint vanished. “Clean your brushes and yourself, then come with me.”
Chris made a fast but thorough clean up, and went to where Morgenstern waited near a door behind a tapestry. To his surprise, the professor’s bedroom looked exactly like a student room, save there was only one desk and one armoire. The four-poster was identical to the one he shared with Nick. He’d expected something much more personal, more lived-in. Only the Gustav Dore engraving of Lucifer Cast Out from Paradise Lost marked the room as any different. Chris lingered at the foot of the bed.
Morgenstern had settled himself on the bed, already in his dressing gown. “Talk to me, little artist.”
“How do you do these things?” Chris’s eyes were large. Morgenstern merely lifted an eyebrow and Chris elaborated, “You move too fast to be seen. I barely make it to the foot of the bed and you’re already changed. You clean messes with barely a wave. How?”
“Little one, are you so dense? Do you not know me?” Morgenstern’s smile never faltered.
“We talk. Marcelo says you’re the Devil himself. I don’t believe in it.”
Morgenstern laughed, and Chris realized he was the butt of the joke. “It doesn't matter what you believe. Believe the moon is made of green cheese for all I care.” He lounged, seemingly heedless of how the dressing gown was falling. For all that Chris had always heard angels were sexless, the man before him was demonstrably male. Based on observation, he was twice the man Nick was. Chris went as Morgenstern beckoned him to the bed.
“Whether you believe or not, and no matter what churchmen say, I remain Archangel Lucifiel, Light of God and best beloved of the Father. The one who loved God enough to take on the most despised of duties, that of Adversary.” He ran a hand over Chris’s trembling shoulder. “Why should having it said upset you so? You knew, did you not? What do you fear?”
“I don’t want it to be true,” Chris blurted. “I can’t believe, can’t comprehend.”
“Do you want me? Do you comprehend what we are doing?”
Chris nodded.
“Will you tell me if I am hurting?”
“I’ll try not to scream too loud, yeah.”
Morgenstern hooked the tip of his index finger under Chris’s chin and drew him down for a kiss. He was fire and honey under Chris’s mouth, opening and kissing not with haste or urgency, but with a measured slowness as though they had infinite time to enjoy themselves in nothing more than this kiss.
When Chris finally moved away, Morgenstern gave him another smile. “Fear not, little artist.” He smiled wryly. “It has been millennia since I used the common greeting of my kind to mortals. You will be fine and we will create a work of art between two bodies. Touch me. I will not break, nor will I hurt you.”
Chris’s smile felt sickly on his face. He reached out and traced his teacher’s strong jaw, his chest, his stomach, making his way to the goal. “Yes,” he sighed, wrapping one hand around the thick shaft. He experimented with different grips, different speed, the softness firming into velvety iron.
“Yes,” Morgenstern responded. He smiled, encouraging Chris with each different hold. “Yes, sweet one, that’s perfect,” he sighed when Chris lowered his mouth for a taste.
Chris had wanted this for weeks, ever since Nick started letting him reciprocate on the blow jobs. Morgenstern was clean, and the same sweetness of his mouth was here as well. As Morgenstern grew harder, Chris wasn’t sure he could take all of it. He fitted his mouth around the head, licking under the foreskin, just experimenting, learning as he would with a new brush. He felt Morgenstern’s hands, stroking his hair, his jaw. The soft words from above him were litanies of soothing sound with no meaning. Unlike Nick, Morgenstern never shoved into his mouth. Chris was glad; the monster in his mouth could choke him without trying.
Chris sucked and licked and kissed until his jaw ached. Morgenstern drew him back up for a kiss and held him.
“You do that wonderfully well, little one.”
Chris shot him an impish look. “Practice.”
Morgenstern laughed a little, then kissed him. “I did not climax for a reason, although you had me quite close. I would rather be within you.” He slid one hand along Chris’s body to stroke his ass, feeling the give of his buttocks.
Chris caught his breath and nodded. “Want that too,” was all he managed.
“Gently then, my sweet lover.” Morgenstern rolled Chris away from him and spooned in behind him. He ran his hand over Chris’s body, grazing his cock several times before stopping to stroke it.
“Very gently?” Chris squirmed a little, trying to hold back the orgasm on whose brink he teetered.
Morgenstern kissed his neck. “Come for me. It will relax you.” The words knocked Chris’s precarious control from him and sent him over the edge, spurting all over the professor’s hand. Morgenstern brought his hand to his mouth and licked at it, offering Chris only single finger, mock-grudgingly.
Chris moaned softly as he licked the length of Morgenstern’s long forefinger. His own bland salty flavor combined with the professor’s skin seemed to be making him hotter than ever.
When the finger was clean, Morgenstern began working on him. That finger worked its way into Chris’s body, slick and careful. A second joined it, gentler than the first.
Chris voiced his fear. “Never going to fit in there.”
“It will, little artist, and I will not hurt you.” The passage loosened under his unfailingly gentle ministrations. He added a third finger and used them to form a funnel for more lubricant. Slowly he moved into position and removed the fingers. “Easy now.” He rocked gently against Chris, letting him open under the pressure and not forcing his way in.
Chris hissed at the burn, then yelped when the head worked its way inside his body. He could do this. He bit down hard, then eased up. He took deep breaths, trying to relax so it would stop hurting.
Morgenstern stopped moving and merely held him. “Tell me when you are ready.” He kissed Chris’s neck and stroked his body. He felt Chris relax well before he heard the shaky affirmation. He slipped in, slow, gentle, very careful, until he was buried in the artist’s body.
Chris gave a long, low moan, feeling filled beyond expectations.
“See? I told you, sweet one.” Morgenstern punctuated this with a kiss and was delighted when Chris moved tentatively on him while still in the kiss. Morgenstern smiled into the kiss and continued, his hands stroking even as his tongue did. At length, they broke. “Are you still afraid?”
“Maybe,” Chris hesitated. “Mostly of liking this too much.”
Morgenstern gave a purr like a great lazy cat. “Too much is almost enough.” He took control, moving gently but firmly. To his delight, Chris emitted that low moan again, louder this time. “Sexy boy,” he whispered, stepping up his motion to firm thrusts. “So very good, so tight.” When Chris rolled a bit more onto his stomach, Morgenstern asked. “More?”
“Oh yes...” Chris breathed, parting his legs, trying to give Morgenstern more access to his body. He lost the breathiness and grew loud as Morgenstern moved harder and faster, almost pounding at him.
Morgenstern gave a soft laugh at the filth that poured from his boy, a steady stream of vulgarity that was almost a prayer in its intensity. In return, he pounded very hard for a few strokes. When Chris screamed for more, more, and more, Morgenstern gave it, burying himself completely, with full force of his strength behind the thrust as he came with a scream of his own.
That sound, half wail, half-startled surprise, triggered Chris into an explosive second orgasm. They came down together, Morgenstern kissing Chris’s neck and shoulders.
“Sweet boy,” he whispered.
Chris gasped, “Don't leave yet.”
“I'll stay within as long as I can.” Morgenstern rolled them back to spooning, cradling Chris gently and whispering filthy French poetry until the young man calmed down.
“So good,” Chris said softly.
“So very good, little artist. A work of art in itself.” When Chris laughed, Morgenstern kissed his neck, his ear and his cheek, his lips light and comforting. “You came to my bed fearful: afraid of pain, afraid of my size, afraid of your inexperience. Have I quelled your fears?” He shifted as he softened enough to leave Chris’s body.
Chris rolled to face him. “All of them.” For the first time, he looked deep into Morgenstern’s eyes, losing himself in them, drowning in honey and amber. “I've wanted this for months.” The intensity in his voice drew an answering nod from Morgenstern.
“I knew the first night, from the way you looked at me. You were not simply storing me up to draw. But Walpurgis night seemed a much more appropriate time for a,” he chuckled, “virgin sacrifice.”
From, "Paying Forfeits"
September brought a welcome relief from the mugginess, and toward the end of the month, Sam won a round of Dragonmaster–the cards and plastic gems confusing the other two--and requested an outdoor scene. Billy spent the week taking extra care of the horses and hoping Saturday didn’t get too weird, as costume pieces had tended to do.
“If we are to play this, let us do it by the book.” William flipped his own lacy cuff out of the way and showed Billy how to properly hold the flintlock pistol. “You don’t say ‘stick ‘em up’ or ‘reach for the sky.’ Say ‘stand and deliver’ instead.”
“Stand and deliver. Got it.”
William dropped into a full accent. “Aye, now, into the woods withee.” He watched as Billy clumped off in the thigh boots, the red heels making his gait awkward. The claret velvet coat and the lace made the young man even sexier. He adjusted his own powdered wig and riding clothes as he walked to where Sam was waiting, already astride a dapple grey. His own bay mare whickered at him.
“Those boots make his ass so tempting,” Sam sighed, watching as Billy disappeared into the trees.
“So, we indulge your harpaxophilia, lover.”
“My what?”
“Your taste for rogues, especially highwaymen.” William swung into the saddle. “We are fortunate young Billy is here. I fear I would hardly cut so fine a figure.”
“Handsome old liar,” Sam said, wheeling his grey around and kissing William from the saddle. “You’d look fine. You look very hot now. Lace suits you.”
William shot his cuffs and smiled. “Shall we go then?” They clip-clopped off along the bridle path, talking of nothing much.
At a branch in the path, Billy stepped in front of them, making them rein up short. He glared through the black velvet mask and leveled his chargers.
“Stand and deliver,” he ordered.
William’s chin went up. He dug in his purse and threw a few small coins in the dirt at Billy’s feet. “Toll enough to pass such a road.” He made to ride on. “Come, Samuel.”
Billy grabbed the reins. “Not so fast, my fine gentlemen,” he said getting into the spirit of it. “Your purses and your honor. Dismount.”
Sam eyed him frankly as he swung down. William took a rather ostentatious pinch of snuff and dismissed him at a glance
“I will be speaking to the sheriff. What is the realm coming to that a man can’t ride from town to town without being set upon by thugs and raiders?”
Sam had moved closer and now reached out to touch the mask. “Are you horribly scarred? Are you hideous?” he whispered. “Do you have the desires of a man still?”
“Aye.” Billy seized him and kissed him fiercely. When Sam melted under his mouth, he laughed. “Little lordling. You’re no better than me.”
“Common filth. He was born better than you.” William shrugged. “Very well, have his honor, if you like, if that is what it will take to get us on our way.”
“We’ll see how much better he is when I have him ass-up in the dirt begging for more and harder.”
Sam, his hand half inside the lacy front of Billy’s shirt, looked up. “Hold. I did not say aye to this.”
William took in their position. “Lover mine, if we waited for you to say aye, he'd be fucking you already.” Billy laughed as William dismounted and moved in, his head canted with curiosity. “I would watch him have you. It will amuse me.”
Sam stroked Billy’s mask again. “Do not hurt me? I won't resist,” he promised.
William drew Sam close and kissed him before shoving him at Billy. “Have him. Take him that we may pass.”
Billy caught Sam by his collar, and Sam swallowed hard. “Please?” he begged softly.
“I won't hurt you, boy.” Billy kept a grip on the collar and used his free hand to stroke the side of Sam’s face.
“What will you have of me?” Sam’s own hands touched Billy’s face and coat, stroking the long hair caught into a pony-tail and tied with a black velvet ribbon.
“Your mouth first.”
William caught Sam’s faked look of revulsion. “Do it, Samuel.”
Sam went to his knees, giving a show of reluctance. He unlaced the front of Billy’s pants, and startled himself as he realized the reluctance wasn’t all for show. He wasn’t in the mood to suck cock. He wasn’t really in the mood for Billy at all. He just wanted to make love to William, smell the snuff and cologne, feel the lace and velvet under his fingers. His hands were very slow as he worked at Billy’s pants.
“Hurry up boy, or I will hurt you.”
Sam looked up and took a slow, clumsy lick of his cock, pretending to be unskilled. He sucked the whole thing in, using what he knew would be too much suction.
“I’d really rather you didn’t,” William said. “I'm fond of the boy.”
Billy smacked Sam lightly. “Easy.” He looked at William. “I have no idea why. He can’t suck for shit.”
Sam, unhappy to be doing the blow-job and furious from the smack, let that comment push him over. He bit Billy, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to draw blood. Billy yelled and yanked his cock away. He drew back his fist for real.
“Now you're going to get it.”
Sam got to his feet, determined not to be hit. He spat in the dirt at Billy’s feet, a gesture of contempt. “If you weren't such a revolting sodomite, you wouldn't have gotten bit.” He spat at William’s feet too. “And I'm not yours to give away like a cravat or a pair of boots.”
Billy, unsure how this scene was supposed to go, but suspecting Sam had just rewritten the script, shot a helpless look at William.
“Do behave, lover,” William pleaded. He looked over at Billy. “Shall I take his place for you?”
Billy let his fist uncurl. “No. He's just got to be smarter.” He smacked Sam again.
Sam considered storming off from that, but he had an idea. “Smarter than you are, bandit. I'm not the one out in the woods, getting cold and going hungry.”
Billy looked him over. “Kneel. And put your mouth to better use.”
Sam folded his arms. “No.”
“Samuel...” William warned.
Sam closed the distance to Billy. “Better use, you're saying?” He kissed Billy, long and deep and hard. “That's the kind of use I like.”
He took advantage of Billy’s momentary shock at how fast he’d changed, and shoved the young man against a big oak tree. He pinned Billy there, kissing him for a long time, and then flipped them around so it was his own back pressing against the tree. He gave Billy a wicked smile. “Think you can manage?”
Billy shook his head, confused. “What are you doing, boy?”
Sam smiled again, guileless innocence in every line of his face. “Paying your toll, of course. In my own fashion.” He pressed against Billy, hard now through his own tight pants, and smiled when Billy gave a soft whimper. “Have me, but my mouth moves no lower than your throat.”
William watched and Sam heard a small moan from him as well. He ignored it and kissed Billy again. His fingers trailed over the mask again.
“Are you handsome?” he asked “Do you want me?” He slid his hand between them, running it along the very visible shaft in Billy’s tight breeches. He kissed Billy again, hard and deep. “Take. Let me pay your toll.”
Under guise of getting them both undressed, he managed to get a condom onto Billy and lube him. Sam turned to face the tree, his grey pants at his knees. He rested one arm against the trunk and spread his feet.
Billy had apparently recovered from the turn-around, because he pressed close and nipped Sam’s ear. “Aye,” was all he said, and shoved in, pushing Sam against the tree. “Feels good, Lord Yummybutt.” They were quiet as they screwed, only hard breathing and the sloppy sounds of sex breaking the tree-green silence. Sam stole a look at William, who was leaning against another tree, masturbating as he watched them.
Sam blew him a kiss and moaned as Billy went particularly deep. Billy’s mouth on his neck, and the feel of the mask on the side of his face were making him crazy and he came with a small cry.
Billy laughed. “Lord Sextoy likes what I’m doing,” he whispered to Sam. “Paying tolls should not be a hardship.” A low grunt marked his climax and he stood for a while, pinning Sam to the tree. “I think your lover needs some help, pretty thing.”
He let go of Sam and pulled away. Sam reluctantly moved away from the support of the tree and saw William still stroking himself. Billy gestured with the flintlock.
“Go ahead and give me a show.”
This was much more what Sam really wanted and he went down on William without delay or protest. Billy moved in beside them and Sam glanced up to see him kissing William. Yes, this was exactly how it should be. Despite his temper earlier, he was much more at peace. He felt Billy’s hand in his hair and relaxed more. So perfect. He swallowed when William came, a small gasp escaping him.
“Stand and deliver indeed,” Sam whispered sliding up to kiss both men. “I would hope I delivered adequately?”
Billy laughed, kissed him and swung up onto his horse. He reached a hand down and pulled Sam up to sit in front of him. His arms were warm around Sam’s waist and the mask was soft and sexy against the side of his face when Billy kissed his neck. Billy caught his revived erection and snickered.
“Here I thought only western saddles had horns.” He rode them double back to the stable, William trailing behind them. Billy kissed and whispered dirty sexy things in Sam’s ear until Sam pulled him into the haymow, once the currying was done.
“My turn to exact my toll, you scoundrel,” he laughed, opening the lacy shirt and tight breeches. “You are so fucking hot like this, I was practically coming just watching you walk into the woods.” He dove in for a long hard kiss.
“Don’t hurt me, my lord. I’m at your mercy,” Billy said, but spoiled the pleading with a laugh.
“Lord Yummybutt has no mercy, rogue. None for blackguards and knaves.” He flicked a tongue over Billy’s nipple. “There will be,” he flicked his tongue again, “lashes and blows and battering with strong iron.”
“Promises, promises. The promises of the high are a handful of dead leaves in the purse of the low.” William was watching from the stable, but came in to join them.
“I’ll settle up with you, lover, once I’ve taught this rapscallion his lesson.” Sam went back to kissing Billy.
“Of course. Repetition is everything in learning.” William made himself comfortable on Billy’s other side and settled in for the show.
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Date: 2007-04-14 04:19 am (UTC)I'm a writer. It ALL goes in the hopper and bounces out at weird times.
It got modified to Lord Yummybutt for the Highwayman scene.