She fixed me with her best authoritative stare.
"I haven't spent three years making you the best kept secret in pop for you to blow it all in some shitty Logan pub!" She hissed.
"Shhhh..." I hushed her with a warning look. "You might offend the staff." It wasn't fair for her to be this funny.
"Like I give a rat's arse..." She muttered, lighting a cigarette in sharp, quick motions that betrayed her extreme agitation.
"Daniel, don't do this to me. Look, I'm glad you've finally decided to embrace a more public persona, but baby this is the *wrong* way to do it. Let's go to New York --LA -- Sydney, fuck even Brisbane! Give me two weeks to publicise and I can guarantee you more media coverage than Pamela and Tommy Lee."
I could see her eyes dancing at the thought, but she was preaching to the wrong audience. I didn't want to do this. The last thing I felt like doing was giving up my anonymity and having to deal with the press, but it was the only way. The only way short of a miracle.
I took no joy in cutting her down. Well, not much.
"Lynne, I'm doing my first public appearance *ever* as Savage. I'm doing it here. You can help me or not, it's your call. But if you don't help me, I'm just going to do it on my own."
She stood, simply seething for a few moments, while the finality of my words sunk in. The moment it did she let out an explosive sound and stormed over to the bar, a stream of muttered obscenities spewing from her lips. She ordered a scotch, neat, and threw it back like water. I half-expected her to close her eyes and count to ten. Finally she collected herself enough to return to my side.
"If I leave it up to you it'll be a letterbox drop and a sausage sizzle."
I gave her a wry half smile. "How'd you guess?"
She shot me a death stare and returned to taking inventory of the crumbling tavern.
"Getting this place to exude working class Aussie charm is gonna be a challenge. Even for me." I could see her lip curl in distaste through the cloud of cigarette smoke.
I turned my gaze to the makeshift stage, sighting the lonely microphone that still stood unmoved, catching a glimmer of blue eyes, porcelain skin, red light caressing raven hair.
Lynne was eyeing me suspiciously.
"You'd better not be doing all this for the sake of some doe-eyed blonde bimbette, Mr. Meg Ryan." I could hear the tone of warning in her voice.
Darren's eyes swept over me, seducing me with a smile.
"It's definitely nothing like that, Lynne. Trust me."
~Chapter Fourteen - The Nervous Kind~
I felt like throwing up. My stomach had decided to not-so-subtly remind me how much I hated performing live. I had to fight down a wave of nausea and remind myself why I was doing this.
//Doing what?//
//Destroying three years of careful and deliberate work designed to keep myself to myself? Allowing myself to *become* Savage? Sacrificing my privacy? My life?//
//Oh God what *am* I doing?//
The crowds outside were getting louder. It was almost time to meet this rabble head on. The tavern was bursting at the seams. Lynne had outdone herself. Despite the short notice and the less-than-perfect location, she'd still managed to cram a ridiculous amount of people into the venue, a large percentage of whom, I'd been assured, were press. We were getting a shitload of publicity over this. Photographers were poised and waiting to take the first ever shots of the elusive artist, Savage.
But I couldn't give two shits about the photographers, journalists, fans, there was only one person I wanted in that crowd. I just hoped he'd be there. As long as he showed up it'd all be worth it.
"Well if it isn't Mr. Savage himself." A voice startled me out of my intense contemplation of my shaking hands. I looked up hurriedly, but the words weren't spoken by a dark-haired angel, rather a blonde-streaked guitarist at the doorway to my "dressing room".
"Hey Ben." I didn't bother trying to hide my disappointment.
"Hey yourself." He went straight for the mirror and started fussing over his gravity-defying hair. "It's a fucking circus out there mate -- couldn't Lynne have gotten us a classier joint? Barely room to breathe on that stage, let alone set up a drum kit."
"That other band seemed to do ok." Lynne had gotten a local act in to support --Powderburn? Powderthumb? I couldn't remember.
"Yeah they warmed up the crowd all right -- you know this dump doesn't have air con? You could suffocate in there now."
Not what I needed to hear. I leaned my head against the cool surface of the mirror, trying to calm my racing pulse. The walls were closing in. I was sick of being stuck in this room, (Lynne had me bailed up for the sake of safety) I just wanted to be out in the bar, scanning the crowd. Was Darren here yet? Was he even coming? //Oh God I feel ill.//
"You right mate? You look a bit green."
"I'll be fine," //as soon as I see Darren.//
"Good. 'Cos we're on."
Before I could question if I was ready I was being ushered sidestage. I concentrated on regulating my breathing, trying not to hyperventilate as the crowd noise grew deafening. Two steps away from complete public exposure, as I was about to cross the patch of carpet lying between me and the complete annihilation of my private life, someone snagged my arm.
//Save me Darren, save me from this crowd.//
Again I wished for sapphire eyes, ebony hair, the face of an angel. Again I was dissapointed.
"Not yet, Daniel -- wait until you're announced!" Lynne was positively flushed with excitement and her grip on my arm was almost painful. The media storm had put her on an amazing high. She'd orchestrated the whole performance quite well considering she'd had six days to do so, flying in my album musicians, roping in a support band and even managing some interior decorating bandaids on the tavern premises. It was now just tacky, no longer an eyesore.
I was itching to get out on the stage, just to see who was out there, search the crowd for Darren. Lynne was shocked, mistaking my need to find Darren for eagerness to perform. A local radio personality got up on stage and gave the official spiel, detailing my background, my first album, my "coming out". Lynne's fingers dug into my arm throughout the entire speech, like she was afraid I'd run out on stage early and ruin her big moment.
Finally, it was time.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you now, in his *first ever* live performance... Savage!"
The roar was defeaning. I forced myself to take steps on suddenly petrified legs. Left. Right. Left. Right. Until I was centre stage being blinded by about five thousand camera flashes. I squinted into the blinding light, but all I could see was a blur of faces -- anonymous, unrecognisable -- swaying before me, or was that the stage moving beneath me?
Seeing the print photos later, I looked like a stunned mullet, staring out into nothing, face a blank but for the terror etched in my eyes. Eyes that were desperately searching.
I stood there, scanning faces, as far as I could see, until it felt unnatural, until the faces I could see began to look confused, until the crowd was almost silent. And still I couldn't see him.
Eventually I found the presence of mind to stoop, collect my guitar and seat myself on the strategically placed stool. Karl counted me in and I let my hands slip to automatic, playing the songs I knew inside out, the songs that were now so empty of feeling and meaning because I'd seen how much more they could be. With Darren.
One song blurred into another, and I played like an automaton, the setlist my safety blanket, allowing me to switch off and just play -- create the meaningless sounds with my instrument. And sometimes a glimpse of a porcelain face, raven hair, within the teeming crowd would startle me out of my coma. But it was never Darren.
Silently shattered, I gave up on finding him. I began to mentally tick off the songs on the setlist, counting the minutes until I crawl into my dressing room and quietly die. Fifteen down, one to go. Then I read the name of the last song.
Universe.
~Chapter Fifteen - Coming Down~
The silence was overbearing. All eyes were on me, not just the crowd either -- Karl, Ben and the guys were waiting on my first chord, a chord I honestly felt like I couldn't play. I stared at the playlist, fingers tensely gripping my pick, hands shaking.
Finally, after catching Lynne's murderous expression, I realised I didn't want to fall apart in front of the international media. I gestured for a roadie to bring me a microphone, and for the first time that night, I addressed the audience.
"I..." My voice echoed back to me, alien and overpoweringly loud. I fought the urge to flee the stage. //You have to do this.// "I want to dedicate this next song to the person who gave it meaning." I forced the words out, and was mortified to discover I was close to tears. I dragged my gaze up from my hands to confront the seething mass of people. When I spoke, I sent my voice out to them all, hoping that somehow he could hear me.
"You're so much more than what they think of you." It took all my will not to add his name to the end of that sentence. With new strength that came from accepting my loss, I handed the mic back and played. And with every note, I could hear Darren's voice. I closed my eyes and savoured it, knowing I would never be able to hear this song again without thinking of him. And I was glad. Because now memories were all I had.
I didn't stay for the cheers, the fussing, the photos, the questions. I rudely excused myself from the stage and headed straight for the tiny dressing room, where I sank to the floor let the misery overtake me.
A knock on the door, so soft it could barely be heard, stirred a faint ray of hope, but I immediately blotted it out.
//Goddammit, it isn't him!// Two thousand false alarms, faces not pale enough, hair not dark enough, eyes not blue enough -- I couldn't take another let-down, not the way I was feeling right now. I mentally prepared myself for Lynne, Ben, Karl, Superman... shit, anyone but Darren. So when the door eased open I was completely unprepared for the shock of his eyes, so much bluer than I remembered, and the scent of him, richer, stronger than the traces I'd been savouring from hotel linen for the last endless days and nights.
So beautiful my memories of him paled. I couldn't speak, couldn't even breathe. He spoke, affirming his realness,
"Why'd you do it?"
I didn't need to ask what he was referring to.
"It was the only way I could think to find you."
The light in his eyes was blinding. He regarded me with disbelief, not for a second believing anyone would go to these lengths for him. //Believe it. There's never been a truer word spoken.//
"Daniel..." It was like he couldn't find the words. His eyes flicked to mine, unsure, hesitant, uncomprehending. "I..." A stifled, self-deprecating smile, "I'm in the book." He finally stated, disbelief in every syllable.
I closed my eyes, releasing a strangled snort that could have been the beginning of a laugh or a sob. He regarded me with unmasked confusion, until I met his questioning eyes.
"I don't know your last name." I finally admitted, shame and bitter loss colouring my words.
I heard his soft intake of breath.
"I didn't re..." He trailed off, eyes huge and misty, reflecting a storm of emotions. He seemed to come to a decision, and finally spoke. "It's Hayes ...Darren Hayes."
//My love has a name. Darren Hayes.//
~Chapter Sixteen - I'm Gonna Make You Mine~
Stiff, halting steps toward him as he hesitantly eased closer to me, graceful, always graceful. I raised a hand to his face, the smoothness of his cheek on my palm, the hypnotic pull of his eyes on mine. //He's really here.//
There was no hesitation when I bent my head to his, or when his lips met mine and the kiss was the pure perfection I'd be longing for since the first time my eyes devoured him -- an angel on a shabby stage in a filthy bar.
The kiss deepened, his mouth opening further beneath mine, my tongue delving inside to tangle with his, his taste making me lightheaded. His hands stroked up my back, and mine tightened around his torso, holding him as tight, as close as I could, never wanting to let go. And there was longing, and desire, and desperation in that kiss.
"I'm sorry... I was going to tell you..." I murmured against his mouth, my lips reluctant to leave his skin. He caught my mouth in a bruising kiss, effectively silencing me. Our tongues entwined for glorious moments, parting only for breath. His cheek brushed mine, his hair a silky caress on my face, his breath in my ear, voice a whisper,
"I didn't give you a chance... God, I wish I hadn't run away..." Then he smothered my lips in a desperate, frantic kiss, his tongue plundering, hands gripping my head. It was raw, passionate, almost rough. I loved it.
He drew back slowly, eyes finding mine again, two fingers trailing down my cheek as if he needed to reassure himself I was still there.
"Once I found out who you are I... I was so sure you wouldn't want me."
//Not want him?!?// I stared in amazement at the beautiful creature before me, his eyes huge, his lips swollen and wet with kisses. //How could anyone not want him?// He's perfect. He's an angel. I was in awe, struck silent by his beauty and the absolute sincerity of his words.
"Darren..." My voice caught in my throat. I wanted so much to tell him... but there were no words for what I was feeling, so I covered his mouth with mine and poured it all into kisses, showing him how much I wanted him, what he did to me, rather than cheapening it with words.
He responded immediately, and soon his body was grinding against mine, groin to groin, my hands under his shirt, his wandering below my waistband, gripping my ass through the fine material of my pants. Our legs entwined and I fell back against the wall for support, my groan smothered by his lips taking mine again. We groped and thrust against each other, messily frantic. My hands roved his body, touching as much skin as I could expose, memorizing him, every curve, every expanse of flesh. His touch was electric, robbing me of breath, making me moan into our kisses with exquisite torture.
It could have gone on forever, it could have ended in seconds with both of us coming where we stood, but I'll never know because Lynne chose that moment to pound on the door.
"Daniel get the fuck outta there! You're due on stage five minutes ago!"
With a muffled sound of extreme frustration my lips left Darren's. I let my head drop forward so our foreheads touched, waiting for my breath and heartbeat to slow, willing my body into submission. I wanted to tell Lynne to fuck the encore, but as my eyes met Darren's again, I had a better idea.
"Two minutes!" I called back, dropping one last kiss on Darren's lips before reluctantly disentangling myself from his body and striding to the door. Ran a hand through my hair and took a breath to calm myself before opening it halfway. "And Lynne..." I ignored Lynne's harried and extremely annoyed expression. "Get the road crew to set up another mic. For vocals."
"Excuse me? When did you start singing?" Lynne wasn't having a bar of it.
"It's not for me." I eased the door all the way open and gestured for Darren to come forward. He threw me a vexed look before doing so with immense hesitation.
"Darren this is Lynne Christie my manager, Lynne this is Darren Hayes: vocalist, songwriter."
Darren did a pretty good job of hiding his shock. Lynne didn't.
"You're not serious--" She stammered,
"Trust me on this one, Lynne. You won't regret it." I gave her my most charming smile. She gave me that suspicious look of hers. I could tell she needed a push, so I gave her one. "I'm not going on without him."
I saw her jaw set, but when she finally spoke, years of PR training kept her voice level.
"Fine. But you'd better make sure I don't regret this."
I took that as a dismissal, but before I could close the door she stopped me mid-motion with a touch on the arm and a sharp look. Motioning to Darren with a head movement, she spoke knowingly, in a voice only I would hear.
"He's no Meg Ryan clone, but don't think I don't know why you're doing this, Dan."
~Chapter Seventeen - The Words Already on Your Lips~
"What are you doing?" Darren's startlingly perfect voice was tinged with confusion.
"I'm giving those people out there a chance to hear the most beautiful voice on the planet." I brushed an errant strand of his ink-black hair aside and took his face between my hands, brushing my lips across his. When he didn't speak immediately, and his expression remained unreadable, I continued,
"Look, if you don't want to do this just say the word and I'll tell Lynne to shove it. But I meant what I said -- I'm not going out there without you."
He took a moment to digest my words. I knew I had him when I saw the smile tug at his mouth, the light flicker on in his eyes.
"OK. But what song are we doing?" His head titled up a notch, eyes lit with challenge. I met his unwavering gaze, my voice level.
"You know which one. Is it finished?"
"I don't know -- is it?" He countered without missing a beat. I did a quick mental check. //Lyrics? Yes. Music? Check.//
"Yeah, it is." I felt the smile creep across my face, echoing Darren's satisfied smirk.
"Good."
I'd gotten so used to the crowd noise it barely registered any more, it'd become mere white noise in the background of the dressing room. It wasn't until Darren and I got side stage that the sheer volume forced me to acknowledge the presence of the overpoweringly large crowd.
In response, I felt the familiar rise of nausea in my stomach. But it vanished at the briefest touch of Darren's hand on my shoulder. He leaned in, speaking close to my ear,
"Don't be nervous." His lips brushing my cheek on the way down, so brief I might have missed it, if it weren't for the slash of electric heat he left on my skin.
Spurred into action, I told Ben and Karl to take a break and Darren and I took the stage alone. Darren's presence caused an immediate stir, and I knew the press would be hounding us later for his identity, but I was glad that at that moment, he was to them the mysterious beguiling stranger he was when I first saw him.
They adored him.
He enchanted every one of them, seduced them, had them eating out of his hand. And on top of it all, the song, now complete with his lyrics, was flawless.
"I knew I loved you before I met you
I think I dreamed you into life
I knew I loved you before I met you
I have been waiting all my life..."
Every word rang as true and clear as his tenor.
I couldn't tear my eyes from him for the entire performance. I was just as transfixed as the rest of the audience. He was so comfortable up there, playing to them, wearing their unwavering attention with casual style, lapping it up like a kitten with cream. It was so natural for him to be up there, in front of thousands.
So at ease, it began to rub off on me. The sheer naked terror I usually felt at facing an audience was gone. Being on stage with him, I did the impossible, I actually began to enjoy myself. I even got up off that damn stool and approached the front of the stage. Within reaching distance of the teeming crowd, I found I could look at them without their faces blurring into dizziness.
The performance passed in a blur, much too fast. But I remember every glance, every touch of his hand on my shoulder, every word he sang to me. And he was singing to me, fixing those blues on me and stopping my heart as our bodies swayed in time. I knew I should've been worried about being obvious, giving ourselves away before the international press, but I was so high on Darren I couldn't bring myself to care.
As I played the last chord, the applause grew deafening, the camera flashes blinding, but it all barely registered, my total attention was so affixed on Darren. His eyes found mine again as I was putting down my guitar, pinning me with a smile.
We hadn't taken two steps off stage before my lips were on his. I didn't care who saw us, I just needed to taste him, to seal this feeling inside me, inside us. The incredible joy, the desire, the need, the... love.
The words of the song still thrummed through me, every note perfection, the meaning so undeniably clear. He'd read me like a book on this one, wringing my feelings from the notes with every beautifully sung word. Or were they his feelings he was singing about?
I relinquished his mouth, breathless after a head-spinning kiss, one hand still cupping his face. I asked him,
"Did you mean it?"
Eyes shining, his arms tightened around my waist, lips curling into that melting smile. When he spoke, his voice was a tight whisper, meant only for me,
"Every word."
I couldn't fight the answering smile on my face and I didn't want to.
"Me too."
~Chapter Eighteen - Completion~
Lynne had a hard time dis-entangling us from each other, dragging us back to the dressing room hissing threats of murder. I was way beyond caring, Darren and I giggling and laughing like schoolboys the entire way, unable to keep our hands off each other. When we were safely hidden in the folds of the dressing room I primed myself for a lecture, but was shocked when Lynne just sent me home. For once she was happy for me to avoid any interviews, citing that it was better for publicity to leave Darren a mystery for now.
That was the official reason. Personally, I figured she was smart enough to tell that any interviewer who saw us right now would have to be blind not to see what was really going on.
So she organised a car for us and we necked the entire way back to the hotel. My hands were buried under Darren's shirt, his gripping my arse through the thick material of my pants, lost in a long sweet kiss when I became aware of the cabbie clearing his throat in an overly loud fashion. I froze.
It was around this time that reality finally sunk in. It hit me that I was in an advanced stage of foreplay in the back seat of a cab somewhere along Kingston Road. This was not sane behaviour. My only consolation was that publicity of my identity wouldn't reach print until morning so there was no way the cabbie could recognise us. Redfaced, I slipped him the fare and dragged Darren from the cab, not waiting for change.
The lift took hours to get to my floor. The entire way there I could feel Darren's eyes on me like a burning brand. I wouldn't let myself touch him for fear I'd lose control before we were safely inside. We reached the hotel room and I couldn't help fumbling for what felt like days to find the key. I almost dropped it when I made the mistake of looking at him. His eyes were compelling, full of desire and questions. Finally the insolent door budged open.
Alone with Darren. I was at a loss as to how to behave. How to act, what to say and do. I wanted it to be different from last time. I wanted it to be more than sex. He meant too much to me. //How do people act when they're on dates?// I could barely remember...
He was staring at me. Not glaring, just... questioning. I wanted to close the distance between us, drag him into my arms and kiss him, but I didn't want to be presumptuous. Crazy, huh? The first time we met I'd barely said three words to him before his tongue was in my mouth, but at that moment I couldn't even take his hand. I didn't want to make him feel like a prostitute.
I didn't know what to do so I wasn't doing anything. I was fucking it up big time.
"You want a drink or something?" First thought in my head, and I grabbed at it. Swung the fridge door open, hiding behind it, wanting to die. I'd barely started the internal self-recriminations when I felt him sidle up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, hands resting gently across my chest.
"I'm not thirsty..."
His warm breath caressed the back of my neck and he dropped a kiss on my shoulder. The awkwardness splintered and shattered, replaced suddenly by heat... and need.
I leaned back into his embrace, reaching behind my body to slide my hands down over his hips and arse, pulling him closer. I tilted my head to the side, seeking his lips and he brushed them across my cheek. I could feel his chest warm against my back, his groin against my arse. I closed my eyes briefly, savouring his heat, before turning in his arms to face him. I stared into his eyes, our breaths mingling, until the chilled air from the refrigerator started to bring bumps to my skin.
Darren ran one long-fingered hand down my arm, studying the bumps with a child-like smile. Then his fingers encircled my wrist and he brought my hand up to his mouth, eyes locking with mine as he pressed a soft kiss to my palm. That gentle, innocent act sent enough heat to my groin to power my house for a week. He rested his cheek against my palm, closing his eyes, and I let my hand furrow through his silky hair, slipping to the back of his head and drawing him closer, closer, until his lips found mine.
Kissing him distracted me. I couldn't think of all the reasons why I shouldn't be taking advantage of Darren, when I was drowning in his sweet taste, //How many other men have tasted these lips?// and running my hands over his lush body. //And how many have worshipped this body?//
I broke the kiss, panting. //Damn you, Jones. Damn you to Hell.//
He looked at me with luminous eyes, a furrow of concern in his brow.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He didn't buy it. Just stared at me long and hard until I knew he wouldn't speak before I did. So I spoke. "I just... I don't want to be another transaction to you."
"Is that what you think this is?" His voice peaked a little as he spoke. "I fuck you, you sign me. Fame in exchange for sex?" It sounded so crude. I tried not to wince.
"No. I don't think that's what this is. I mean, I hope it isn't... but if it was..." Shit, when did I turn into a moron? "I don't want you to be here if you don't want to be. Either way you're getting signed and you're going to be huge. You belong on that stage, Darren, you're made for it. But I don't want you selling yourself anymore, especially not to me."
There was that incredulous look again.
"Don't you think if I was playing you, Dan, that I would've done a better job of it?" I laugh at this, a ghost of relief colouring me. He smiled a crooked smile at me, shaking his head, I guess wondering how I could be so dense. I was beginning to wonder myself.
"You were never just another transaction to me, Daniel." He moved closer to me, speaking emphatically. My heart glowed. With everything in me, I believed him.
His fingers at my neck pulled me forward until our lips touched. A gentle brush, once, twice, lips across lips, then his latched onto mine and our tongues entwined. I shuddered into his embrace and curled my arms around his slender frame, drawing my hands up his body, over the backs of his legs, delectable arse, up underneath his shirt to the smooth skin of his back.
Chest to chest, groin to groin, we couldn't get close enough. His hands sought the curve of my arse, my nipples, a stroke here, a touch there setting me alight. We explored each other in a convoluted dance, trying to get inside each other while still remaining upright. It couldn't work for long.
He gave in first, tearing his mouth from mine, breathing harsh.
"There a bed in this place?"
"You know where it is."
He took my hand and led me there. Moments later he was lying stretched out on the bed, invitation in every line of him. I got caught staring at him, standing at the end of the bed just taking him in. His eyes seemed to glow with heated desire, the curve of his body across the sheets exquisite, and the bulge in his pants... unmistakeable. He cocked his head at me, lifting one hand from the bedspread, his mouth curving into a luscious smile as he beckoned me closer with a crooked finger.
Tempted, I dropped onto the bed, crawling on top of him and capturing his mouth. It'd only been moments since our last kiss, but it felt like years. His hands on my back forced my body down on top of his, so close only layers of clothing separated us. Too soon it wasn't enough. I wanted that last barrier gone. It was painful to take my mouth from his, but I had to in order to get his shirt over his head. He copied my actions and soon the only clothing that remained was our underwear.
He stripped my undershorts from me with practised ease, but when it was my turn to remove his, I got distracted. His cock, thick and hard jutted out into my palm and I couldn't help but caress it through the soft cloth of his briefs. He moaned and sucked my tongue into his mouth. I felt the material getting damp beneath my fingers.
"Danny, please..." He murmured against my lips
I rubbed a little more, feeling the roll of his hips against me in reaction, his movements sending little zings of pleasure through my own body. I teased him a little longer until his noises and movements told me he was reaching his threshold. Actually his little moans and sinuous motions were pushing me right to the limit of my own control. Locking my eyes with his, my fingertips slipped beneath the waistband of his underwear.
At the first touch of my fingers to his hot, slick flesh his eyes slammed shut, head dropped back and my name bubbled from his lips in a long tortured groan. It had been far, far too long since I'd last touched him like this.
I wrapped my hand around him, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat through my palm, my own hips bucking and rolling, rubbing my cock against his leg in time as I began to stroke him. His head remained tilted back, eyes still closed in ecstasy as I devoured the soft pale skin of his neck, kissing down his chest and tonguing his nipples. I couldn't help smiling against his skin when I heard his appreciative moans.
I continued to suckle at his eager flesh, my hands working overtime to drive him mad. His fingers tangled in my hair, pressing the back of my neck, encouraging me. I slipped further down his body, kissing his torso, his stomach. My mouth had almost reached where my hands were, my breath hot on his skin just above his underwear when I heard him whimper. The whimper turned into a shaky moan as I finally drew his briefs off, releasing his cock from the soft confines.
"Dan, no... you don't have to -- OHHHHHHHHH..."
His loud groan of ultimate pleasure was reward enough. I took him into my mouth as far as I could. How sorely I'd missed the taste of him. How quickly I'd gotten addicted to it. He arched to my mouth, a tangled stream of moans and endearments tumbling from his lips. I could tell he was close. I wanted to take him there.
I was just about to increase my pace to a speed guaranteed to bring him off when his fingers gently tugged at the hairs of the back of my head, pulling my head upwards. Reluctantly I let his hard flesh slip from my mouth and shot him a questioning look. The strain of stopping at this point showed in his face. He was flushed, gasping violent breaths, his expression pure determination.
"Wait..." He panted, "I want..."
He gave up on words and the next thing I knew he'd flipped me onto my back and straddled me, pressing our cocks together. He rolled his hips against mine, making his erection, still wet with my saliva, rub against mine. I could only moan, grasp his hips and rock back against him. He ground himself against me and I growled at the almost rough contact.
He looked so beautiful. Perched above me, eyes tight, chest a streak of pale skin before my eyes. I pulled him down to suckle his neck, taste the flesh that taunted me. Grasping, groping, we couldn't stay that way for long, the need was too intense. He tore his mouth away and pitched over the side of the bed, arse in the air as he dug around his clothes for supplies. His arse was pure invitation, sticking up like that. I ran a finger down his spine and palmed the pale cheeks.
Finally he sat up, brandishing condoms and lube, and I pressed up against his back, my cock brushing tantalisingly at his arse, my lips automatically seeking out the soft flesh of his neck. I took the condom from him, my lips not leaving his skin even once as I unwrapped it.
He shivered as I drew my hands down his sides, shifting forward slightly to give me room to put the condom on. I didn't. Instead I pulled his body back against mine, reaching around in front of him to stroke the rubber onto the hard flesh of his erection.
"Dan..." His voice was tinged with confusion.
"Shhh..." I silenced him, murmuring between soft kisses at his neck as I finished rolling the condom onto him. "I want you inside me." I whispered, remembering how he'd said the same thing to me once. I don't know if his shivery moan was in response to my words or the soft squeeze of my hand on his cock as I said it.
He turned then, faced me in my arms, so close our cocks brushed. I had to catch my breath.
"It'll hurt." He warned flatly. No 'maybe', no 'might'. He was trying to scare me.
"I don't care." I said. It was the truth.
He seemed to consider it for a moment, then my lips were claimed in a searing kiss that could've fried my brain. As our tongues and cocks dueled I became aware of lubed fingers gently rubbing around my arse. He was preparing me. I lost myself in his kiss and let him. It didn't take long for it to stop feeling weird and start feeling good. Soon I was pushing back against his fingers, wanting -- needing more.
My cock was about to explode when he finally laid me down on my stomach and pressed his body against the length of my back. His slick cock gently prodded my arse.
"You sure?" His voice was soft in my ear, but I could hear the strain in it, how much he was restraining himself for me.
"Do it Darren, please..." I answered, my voice too needy to be my own.
It did hurt. But he went slow. He cooed and moaned in my ear and played with my cock, easing in until the pain turned to pleasure. Then he was filling me and surrounding me, voice in my ear, hand on my cock, and we were pumping and moving, riding a wave of feeling that just kept getting more and more intense.
I know I called his name out as my come spattered the sheets. I know he called mine as he exploded inside me. It felt so good I felt like I didn't deserve it, like I could never in my life do anything to deserve to feel so good.
He disposed of the condom and we curled into each other's arms. Lying there sticky and sated, my arse aching and his breath feathering across my face, I'd never felt so complete.
"Are you OK?" He asked, fingers gently caressing my back.
"I'm better than OK." I admitted.
And I was. I was with him.
