Rupert stumbles and Daniel wraps his arm around his waist, guiding him past the crates of rabbits into the back room, not letting go, pausing to slide a finger through Rupert's belt-loops and kiss the side of his chest. There's probably a word for this, in one of the thousand languages he doesn't know, for how he knows how to walk, how to kiss and touch and make Rupert shiver with just his fingernails.
Something below amnesia, apparently. Nesia, maybe? Daniel is about to ask when they reach the door and he twists, nudging it open with his hip, wrapping both arms around Rupert and pulling him inside. Into the dusty, dim room, and the question dies without being spoken because he opens his mouth, grasps Rupert's head in both his hands, and kisses him. He knows there are different emphases to kisses and, what's more, he knows that this is most serious kiss he's ever given.
The door swings shut and they're still stumbling forward, Rupert bent at the waist, Daniel craning up and up. Octopuses and climbing-ivy, so much touch everywhere that bursts and splutters and pushes all the air out of Daniel's lungs and all the thoughts out of his mind. He trips on a thick, soft mat and starts to fall backward, the kiss breaking until he yanks on Rupert's loose shirtsleeves and pulls him down. Dust erupts from the mat and Daniel's on his back, limbs akimbo, reaching for Rupert and laughing.
"How do I know what's funny?" he asks, stuttering, between laughs. Rupert is on his knees, shirt open and pushed off his shoulders, hair massively rucked-up by Daniel's hands, and it's amazing. "How do I know --?"
That I want you? That you're handsome and taste like a banquet and your hands fit me? That I need you?
No words, beyond language, so Daniel reaches for Rupert instead, wrapping one end of the tie around his fist and tugging him in, sitting up and meeting him halfway, sliding forward on his ass until his legs are wrapped around Rupert's waist.
"Want you," he says against Rupert's lips. It's a fact, not a question. He's certain and here and *sure*. "So much, want to feel you."
The strangely rich smell of cement and dust stirs something in Rupert's mind, a feeling that hints of memory, like the shadow of a fish gliding among reeds. And then it's gone, slick as a fish, and Rupert leans down into Daniel's clutching body, rolling his hips and groaning as Daniel responds with an upward jerk. "I know how you know that," he says, moving some more, rubbing his cock against the bulge of Daniel's. Under zipper and cloth there's naked skin, so tender over the hard swell of flesh. Skin that burns like his own for bareness, for unhindered touch, for a hand or a mouth or something, anything, and picturing it, Rupert shivers and noses the neck of Daniel's t-shirt aside, nips hard at this new bit of him. "Know how I know it, too. Want to touch all of you. See you."
Daniel's right to wonder how they know things. The blanks are bizarre, great empty spaces without logic, like a page half-erased by a blind man. Rupert knows what a man's naked body looks like, but he doesn't remember ever seeing one. Didn't remember his own name, but he knows that touching Daniel will feel even better when they're naked. "What's under there?" he says, pulling at Daniel's t-shirt, and Daniel grins, wriggles cooperatively until the shirt comes free and he's bare. Rupert sits back on his knees and looks. "Oh yes. Beautiful." Paler and less freckled where the shirt covered him, and smooth as a boy, with just a few fine hairs around his pink nipples and light tufts under his arms.
Perfect young skin, flushed pink at the throat from arousal, and Rupert is about to close his eyes, take off his glasses and move on to touch and taste when he notices the scar on Daniel's shoulder. That raised weal must have been painful, whatever caused it. Looking closer, Rupert sees more scars, so silver-pale they're almost invisible, dotting Daniel's chest and belly. "Someone hurt you," Rupert says, letting his fingers trace a constellation. "Your face is bruised, too." Carefully, he kisses the yellow-and-green stain and eases his body down onto Daniel's, covering it. Shielding it.
The weight of Rupert's body, weight and texture of skin and bone and muscle, it's almost too much and Daniel has to suck in breath after breath, his eyes squeezed shut, until he calms down enough to speak. All the sensations, the touch and the sound of Rupert's voice, all of it swirls together, familiar but novel, and he can't make sense of anything.
Anything except the literal, bare facts: Weight and the sighs of the mat and the scent along Rupert's hairline that's half-sweet and half-savoury, herbs and kelp.
"Maybe it's better, then," Daniel says, pulling Rupert's shirt up, stroking his palm in wide arcs over his back. Such tight skin, worn-down and softened. "Not remembering, I mean."
He doesn't want to think that there's someone out there who bruised his face and left scars like spiderwebs all over his chest, scars that burn in the wake of Rupert's fingers. He just wants to feel this, the tension and twists of Rupert's back, the taste of him soaking into Daniel's mouth, the jerky, exploratory rhythm of their hips, this hiss-and-drag of friction. Moving hands, roving mouths, muffled squeaks of the mat -- Daniel wants the literal, Rupert and the tightening burn of his skin, more than any memory.
Rupert's bones are thicker, stronger, than Daniel's own, and the hair on his chest scratches up more need through Daniel's, and every time he nips down on Daniel's lip, Daniel wants to shout with the joy of it. His mind spins, bright colors, then black-and-white, and he knows as surely as anything not to bite back, but he can't stop his fingers from curling into pseudo-claws and pulling Rupert down, in, closer.
He wraps one leg around Rupert's waist, locking his foot between Rupert's legs, and thrusts up sharply so Rupert opens his eyes.
"Can we --?" Daniel feels the question shrivel, then grind away, in the back of his throat. He scratches a swift line down Rupert's side and over the swell of his ass, still trapped in his pants. "Want to fuck."
The sound of fuck in that soft boyish voice makes Rupert's spine go hot and tight, and he kisses Daniel hard, sucking at his mouth as though he can taste the word there, bittersweet and slippery. He rolls his hips in a slow arc, tongue thrusting between Daniel's lips in the same rhythms, then pushes sharply and feels Daniel quiver, feels his mouth open in a gasp. "You want to fuck?" he says, one hand looping down Daniel's side, stroking and pinching and scratching a little with his nails. "I want everything. To kiss and lick and stroke and rub. Suck you, taste you." Later, he'll think about who hurt Daniel; now, he can make him feel good, drown that unremembered pain with pleasure.
A shudder rocks Daniel's body, he's gulping in air and his hands dig and knead in the flesh of Rupert's back. He likes to be talked to. "Want to know you." If Daniel is all Rupert knows in the world, he wants to know him completely. He wants expertise, virtuosity. "What you like, how you look naked, what sounds you make when someone runs his tongue along your cock." Daniel really likes being talked to-he's gone whirlwind, tugging Rupert's shirt off, kissing him in hungry staccato, legs and arms all wound around him, rubbing a calf against his arse, pushing up and pulling Rupert down, under him and surrounding him.
Like he's been waiting a hundred years for this fuck, cloistered and starving, and he's driving Rupert's own need to frenzied urgency just when he wanted to be slow. At the moment they're both virgins, every touch is the first, and Rupert wants this to take time. This should open moment by moment, like an epic or a quest, until it's massive, until it's a whole landscape, a history, a world.
The others might come wandering back any minute, but Rupert's fairly sure he doesn't care.
He catches Daniel's hands, which are pushing under the waist of his trousers, and holds them down. Daniel stills, trembling a little, and whines when Rupert licks his nipple. So tiny, this little fold of skin, but it stiffens as Rupert sucks and rolls it between his teeth, and Daniel's whines deepen into rough grunts.
Rupert wants him to wait. Through tornadoes that rock and shiver, impulses for more that keep spinning faster to the sound of Rupert's voice, Daniel understands that much. He's dizzy and exhausted already and in the sudden stillness, he thinks he might boil away.
If he didn't understand before, the crackling grip of Rupert's hold on his wrists would be enough to tell him. Daniel pushes up again, just to see, meeting challenge with challenge, and hears Rupert chuckle just before biting harder. Stilling him again in a sharp, spreading wave of need.
This is fun, this is something he knows how to do without thinking about it, this is what he wants. No memories, of bruises and scars and politeness, just weight and the dare that flows between them with each touch and click of the clock. A dare that doubles, then triples, and Daniel keeps very still as long as he can, until Rupert looks up, checking his face, and Daniel twists his arms, freeing his wrists, and wrenches his hips, and they roll in a cloud of dust until Daniel crouches over Rupert.
He sits back on his heels, hands on Rupert's waist, and cocks his head.
"But that's what I want," he says, lowering his chest, letting the heels of his palms skate lightly over Rupert's chest. Rupert is scarred, too, the webs bright against the cream-and-flush of Rupert's skin. Daniel tastes one scar, then another, and feels Rupert shiver beneath him. When he scrapes teeth through hair, following a scar and finding a flat, dark-rose nipple, Rupert quakes and gasps. Breath that spills out, below words, twisting and grunting, and Daniel looks up. "You taste -- God. So good, pewter and fresh herbs. And you look --"
Rupert looks like sex. That's the best Daniel can do: mussed hair, cheeks flushed darker than brick, eyes that glitter and mouth that works and twists. His chest is broad, his waist tapers into strong thighs, and Daniel pushes against the lump of his hard-on until Rupert's eyes flutter closed.
"Look like sex. Taste like it, too. Salty --" He can't go slow, not as slow as Rupert wants, and kneeling here, he's floating, evaporating, and Daniel releases Rupert's arms, lets them fold around him, hold him and roll him over, and then he's on his back again, staring up. Thinking of the sky Anya made, all yellow and purple, bruise and gunmetal, and it's not half so alien and beautiful as Rupert's face looming over him. Dark shadows, mostly, just gleam of eyes and tongue, and Daniel wraps his legs around Rupert's waist and says, "Anything you want. Just don't stop."
So many contrasts. Daniel's bruised face and the eager pleasure in his expression, his compliant words and hungry, clutching body, the way he pushed Rupert down and then pulled him on top again. So much complexity, and Rupert wishes he could do everything at once. Hold Daniel still and explore him, test out every response; fuck him hard and fast, satisfy the craving he can feel as Daniel arches and his thighs spread wider; just look until he understands how all Daniel's bones and muscles fit together, how his skin folds and stretches, how the hollow of his throat jumps with every pulse.
"Stopping," he says, cupping Daniel's face in his palms, "is the only thing I don't want."
As he kisses Daniel he shifts back onto his knees, drawing Daniel up with him, and slips his hands between their bodies. "What I do want-" he outlines Daniel's erection with two fingers "-is to get these bloody clothes off of us." Button and zip, quick work even with Daniel pulling at Rupert's own flies so that they get in each other's way, and inside the opening there's such heat, melting-heat even through the heavy gray cotton of his pants. "Christ," Rupert says, palm trembling against hardness, against need, and Daniel is pressed so close against him that he's sure he can feel the slide of Daniel's muscles and the circulation of his blood.
Rupert can't move as Daniel finally gets his buttons undone, as Daniel swears under his breath and shoves a hand inside, under Rupert's pants, hot sticky hand on Rupert's cock. The ache in his balls twists and tightens and then he has to move, has to flatten Daniel to the mat with a thump and strip off his shoes and trousers and everything. Narrow hips with the bones jutting out stark, a patch of red-brown hair, swollen cock dark against his belly, all so beautiful, and when Rupert slicks kisses over Daniel's belly the scent of musk and sex has him groaning low in his throat.
Rupert's mouth vibrates over Daniel's stomach, swooping down one thigh, lifting and moving, bringing up new skin. Everything's new, this is the newest thing of all, warm breath making wet kisses feel cold, then hot, and he only stays still because if he moves, Rupert might stop. But his legs twitch and his fingers curl uselessly against the mat, and slowly, through a haze of want and sensation, Daniel realizes that Rupert's still half-dressed.
He lifts his head, lead-heavy, and sees first the flexing span of Rupert's shoulders, then his eyes, locked on Daniel like if he blinks, Daniel will disappear. Three coughs, several licks at dried-out lips, and when he finally speaks, Daniel *still* sounds hoarse and lost. "Want to see you. Strip -- take your clothes off." His palm aches where it had closed around Rupert's dick, the skin there alien -- hot but so soft, stretched over such tension -- and without thinking, he brings his hand to his mouth, licks his palm good and wet. "Touch you."
Rupert nods, and they seem to have passed from frenzy to something much slower, underwater and dreams. Somehow, Daniel's sitting up, heart pounding out tattoos in his chest, skull, and cock, and Rupert rises onto his knees, sighing through clenched teeth while Daniel skims down his trousers.
Normal -- how's he know it's normal? -- white cotton briefs, bleached and bright, stretched obscenely over his erection. The erection Daniel has only felt, not yet seen, and as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband, tongue caught between his teeth, he feels Rupert's chest swell against his forehead as he takes in a breath he doesn't release. A snag, then ease, and Daniel's mouth opens when Rupert's finally naked. Whorls of light hair on his thighs, dark thatch around a thick cock, red at the tip, smoky purple down the shaft.
"Foreskin," Daniel says under his breath and thinks, absurdly, of Helen Keller at the well, Annie tracing water over her palm, as he touches Rupert and feels him shake, breath spilling out in a whine. "Oh, man." Each time he wiggles at the heartbreakingly-thin membrane, Rupert teeters on his knees and almost whimpers. His hand closes on Daniel's shoulder, pushes him on to his back, and then they're rolling again, and Rupert is heavy, warm, naked around Daniel.
He might as well have been blind, deaf, and mute until now, until touch and kiss and Rupert came, and Daniel's spinning again, drunk on the novelty. He's kissing Rupert's neck, sucking at a tendon, hands kneading Rupert's ass and he realizes he's saying, "Now, now, now --" between each breath and nibble.
For a second Rupert imagines it's in his own head, that now, that hiss of insistent breath, hardly louder than the rush of air sucked in tight gulps or the whispered squeaking of the mat under their bodies. His body wants now even as his mind holds him back, makes him gnaw Daniel's shoulder, yank Daniel's hips higher and move lightly, their cocks brushing in a slow tease.
But he looks up and it's Daniel speaking, open lips widening around the syllable, and Rupert stares at the dark wet sheen inside Daniel's mouth and shudders. He's hardly started, there are whole stretches of Daniel unknown, untouched. But these inside places, so secret, and watching Daniel's tongue move behind his teeth, Rupert can't help imagining them. Feeling them beforehand, wet heat around his cock or a tight ring of muscle and yielding softness beyond it.
"Now, yes," he says, hand closing over Daniel's hip to still him. "Need to - Daniel. Need to fuck you. Please." Daniel's eyes go dark, pupils spreading so wide that Rupert feels dizzy, and it's an unmistakeable yes even before he nods. "Daniel," Rupert says again, and kisses him with open-mouthed clumsiness, smearing his face and pulling at his hair. Daniel sucks his lips, slurps his tongue into that wet mouth, and it's the biggest marvel of the day that a calm expressionless boy could want like this.
A kiss like this one is halfway to fucking already, and it would be so wonderful just to push inside him. But there are necessities. Rupert pulls a little away, stretching liquid spiderwebs between his lips and Daniel's, and says, "Condom. Have to - and lube." There's a bottle of lube in Daniel's jacket, which is in the other room, and Daniel's face breaks into a grin as wide and embarrassed as Rupert's own when he remembers.
Of course there's lube. He had lube that Randy made fun of in front of everyone. Daniel's still nodding as he gets -- clumsily, in several stages -- to his feet, bracing one hand on Rupert's shoulder. "I'll get it. You, you stay here --"
But Rupert's tottering upwards himself, and the floor past the mat is shockingly cold, making them dance from foot to foot and grab hands as they dash into the store. Lube from his jacket and Daniel juggles it for a moment before he realizes that he really doesn't have any pockets to stow it in, and then he pulls Rupert into the other back room.
An office, full of packing crates he borrowed to pen up bunnies, and he stops short on the threshold, suddenly highly aware of his nakedness. Stops, and crashes back into Rupert, who's laughing, too, and folds an arm over Daniel's chest.
"Just gonna look for half a second," Daniel says, pushing the lube into Rupert's hand and breaking away for the desk under the window. No memories, but he's aware of time like the old hourglass, aware of chances possibly clicking away. He's also naked and trespassing, and for some reason, it's just really funny. He's laughing, glancing up occasionally at the dark silhouette Rupert makes in the doorway, shuffling through accounting statements and crusty bottles of White-Out and pencils, erasers, rubber bands, legal clips, until -- finally. "Voila!"
Daniel waves the small ribbon of condoms at Rupert and then the sight arrests him. Dark, cramped office and Rupert there, outlined with brassy light, naked and tall and waiting for him. Daniel doesn't breathe as his hand drops and he moves around the desk, toward Rupert, across the room, his bones gone balsa-light inside thundering blood and too-tight skin. When he stands in front of Rupert, his head tips back and arms go around Rupert's waist, and he kisses him again for the first time.
All the taste of him, like red wine and fine dining, and the presence of him, holding Daniel, kissing him back, it's all that Daniel knows of the world. It's enough. They stumble back through the store and Daniel doesn't want to open his eyes. He wants to know everything this way, by touching and tasting, even if it means barking his shin and banging his elbow several times over.
The color behind his lids darkens and it's quiet again as Rupert pulls back. Daniel's lips burn as the kiss ends and he opens his eyes, they're back in the gym room, his palms are sliding up the backs of Rupert's thighs, and his hips are rocking, rubbing his cock against Rupert's leg.
"Ready," Daniel says and closes his fingers into bunches of muscle as he smiles at Rupert. "All over again."
Standing like this, both naked, clinging together, about to fuck, Rupert realizes for the first time how small Daniel is. He saw it before, but now he feels it, the narrowness of Daniel's bones and the spareness of the flesh over them, his thin skin that shows blue forks and twinings of veins. Daniel's head doesn't even reach Rupert's chin; his grinding cock pushes against Rupert's thigh. "Christ," Rupert says, cupping his hands over Daniel's buttocks. They fit in his hands, and he digs his fingers into firm muscle and pulls Daniel fractionally closer. "So - want you so much." With cool air and the embarrassment of dashing around naked, Rupert's cock had gone a bit soft, but now he's hard again. Ready to enter this little body, ready to feel what it's like, fucking Daniel.
Across the room there's a leather pommel horse, and Rupert, tonguing a bite mark on Daniel's shoulder, pictures him bent over it. Red-faced, his lovely arse in the air, his cock bobbing and exposed. "Oh, fuck. Going to fuck you. Beautiful boy, going to-" But of course it wouldn't work, Rupert's too much taller.
Doesn't matter, positions are nothing, what matters is that Daniel's shaking, letting out little groans every time Rupert's fingers brush his crack, his fingers are scratching bluntly over Rupert's back and arse, and he's butting his forehead against Rupert's chest like a pleading child. "Kneel down," Rupert says, and Daniel collapses like a dynamited building before struggling up again on all fours. Rupert kneels behind him, over him, arms around Daniel's chest, and kisses between his shoulderblades. "Yes, yes," he whispers, sliding his hands down Daniel's sides as he moves back, licking a trail down his knobby backbone. When Rupert reaches the dip at the base of his spine, soft and hot, Daniel makes a strangled noise and spreads his legs wider. "So perfect." Skin so pale under Rupert's hands, the valley between his cheeks glistening a little with sweat, a tiny puckered hole that's such a delicate pink Rupert can't help thinking of flowers. He drags his tongue down the deepening crevice, holding tight to Daniel's straining hips, tasting concentrated skin and darkness, feeling the muscle loosen as he circles it, and he knows that this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.
It's so much, moist heat and sucking that opens a deep aching channel inside him and wrenches his cock harder. Daniel pushes back against Rupert's mouth and drops his head, forehead scraping the mat, eyes straining to see. Of course he *can't* see anything, just a mass of dark shapes that are his knees and cock and behind them, Rupert. Massive and dark, unseeable.
Not invisible, though. Rupert is there, just fragmented into the other four senses. The grasp of his hands on Daniel's waist, pulling him at the same time they're holding him still, the taste of his mouth smeared around Daniel's lips, picked up again by Daniel's tongue, the smell of him, all laundry and clean sweat and something darker, sharper, that somehow reminds Daniel of lake weeds and snow in fields. The sounds Rupert is making, sweet encouraging grunts and swirling wet tongue, sounds that hit Daniel's ears and travel through his veins.
Symphonies and jazz improvs, notes spinning too fast to catch, and timpani that bellows and shudders through Daniel, from Rupert's mouth up his chest and out his own mouth. He's dizzy, but he's on the floor, and sweat is prickling out while his skin glows then chills and glows again.
Daniel twists a little, getting a warning noise from Rupert, and catches a glimpse of Rupert right there, on his knees, shoulders broad and arms strong, holding him close and still and tight. His cock aches, untouched and too hot in the dark, and the groans he's been making twist together into words.
"Want to feel you," he says, and Rupert's eyes close, so he adds, "Inside me, deep as you can. Okay? Just want that, want you."
Almost grimacing, Rupert hauls him back, lifting Daniel's hips, and Daniel's head drops forward again. He drops into the red-tinged darkness behind his lids, where everything's unfurling, spinning apart, flames that dance and split like amoebae, heat like magma and geysers pulling him slack and ready.
Not ready, shocked and grateful, when something nudges against his hole, tracing spirals and pushing more firmly, and Daniel yelps, then sighs.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says, and maybe his voice is his own, but it sounds high and reedy, "Just like that. You're amazing, so amazing. More, more. Want you, give anything --"
It feels just like Rupert thought it would, and exponentially, shatteringly better. Daniel's hole clenches and loosens spasmodically around his finger, and somehow the feeling washes down Rupert's body, tightens his balls and makes his cock impossibly, painfully hard. "You're so hot inside, Daniel." He draws his finger back until the tip is barely inside, then plunges in again, fast, and Daniel's spine bows and he pushes back, muttering. "More, here, I'll give you more." A second slippery finger, and Daniel makes a noise like need and relief. "Does this feel good?" Rupert asks, although he knows, although Daniel keeps shuddering and panting and spluttering pleas for more, deeper, more. "You like this, like my touching you inside." At every movement of Rupert's hand, every twist and spread of his fingers, ripples travel out along Daniel's skin. Rupert feels the tremor of it under his lips as he kisses Daniel's back, under his free hand that strokes Daniel's belly, dips lower, molds the space around his cock without touching it.
Three fingers now, stretching Daniel wide, and it doesn't seem to hurt him or scare him. Of course he's fucked before, of course his body remembers how to relax and open. It's only his mind that's virginal, that's never felt this. Only his mind, like Rupert's, that's dazed with newness, with the hunger to find out what's next, how much better it can possibly get. Rupert crooks his fingers forward, strokes, and he can hear the surprise in Daniel's quick breathless shout. "Going to - want to feel what it's like inside you, Daniel," he says, not moving, holding Daniel as he trembles. "Feel you around my cock, so tight and so-" There's a moan from Daniel, half disappointment and half anticipation, as Rupert slides his fingers out.
Quickly Rupert unrolls a condom down his cock, snagging a stray hair and cursing, smears cold lube on himself and more on Daniel, and he's starting to shake too, he's too hot and his skin sparks with impatience. "Give you what you want." Guides the head of his cock against Daniel's hole, pushes gently, and Daniel stretches around him, opens for him, and he watches the tip slide into the narrow hot slick space in Daniel's body and it's so good, so perfect he has to grit his teeth and stop. Gentle, slow, he doesn't want to hurt Daniel and anyway he's afraid he might come too soon, disappoint him. Careful little thrusts forwards, hands gripping Daniel's bony hips too hard, his own grunts and gasps reverberating with Daniel's, and once in a while he can get out words. "Going to - so deep. Inside you. All the way. So good, so good, Daniel, fuck." He leans over Daniel's back as he sinks in, and then he's there, balls brushing Daniel's arse, biting fiercely on the knob of Daniel's shoulderblade, and then he pulls back and thrusts and hears them both shout.
Something below amnesia, apparently. Nesia, maybe? Daniel is about to ask when they reach the door and he twists, nudging it open with his hip, wrapping both arms around Rupert and pulling him inside. Into the dusty, dim room, and the question dies without being spoken because he opens his mouth, grasps Rupert's head in both his hands, and kisses him. He knows there are different emphases to kisses and, what's more, he knows that this is most serious kiss he's ever given.
The door swings shut and they're still stumbling forward, Rupert bent at the waist, Daniel craning up and up. Octopuses and climbing-ivy, so much touch everywhere that bursts and splutters and pushes all the air out of Daniel's lungs and all the thoughts out of his mind. He trips on a thick, soft mat and starts to fall backward, the kiss breaking until he yanks on Rupert's loose shirtsleeves and pulls him down. Dust erupts from the mat and Daniel's on his back, limbs akimbo, reaching for Rupert and laughing.
"How do I know what's funny?" he asks, stuttering, between laughs. Rupert is on his knees, shirt open and pushed off his shoulders, hair massively rucked-up by Daniel's hands, and it's amazing. "How do I know --?"
That I want you?
That you're handsome and taste like a banquet and your hands fit me?
That I need you?
No words, beyond language, so Daniel reaches for Rupert instead, wrapping one end of the tie around his fist and tugging him in, sitting up and meeting him halfway, sliding forward on his ass until his legs are wrapped around Rupert's waist.
"Want you," he says against Rupert's lips. It's a fact, not a question. He's certain and here and *sure*. "So much, want to feel you."
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Daniel's right to wonder how they know things. The blanks are bizarre, great empty spaces without logic, like a page half-erased by a blind man. Rupert knows what a man's naked body looks like, but he doesn't remember ever seeing one. Didn't remember his own name, but he knows that touching Daniel will feel even better when they're naked. "What's under there?" he says, pulling at Daniel's t-shirt, and Daniel grins, wriggles cooperatively until the shirt comes free and he's bare. Rupert sits back on his knees and looks. "Oh yes. Beautiful." Paler and less freckled where the shirt covered him, and smooth as a boy, with just a few fine hairs around his pink nipples and light tufts under his arms.
Perfect young skin, flushed pink at the throat from arousal, and Rupert is about to close his eyes, take off his glasses and move on to touch and taste when he notices the scar on Daniel's shoulder. That raised weal must have been painful, whatever caused it. Looking closer, Rupert sees more scars, so silver-pale they're almost invisible, dotting Daniel's chest and belly. "Someone hurt you," Rupert says, letting his fingers trace a constellation. "Your face is bruised, too." Carefully, he kisses the yellow-and-green stain and eases his body down onto Daniel's, covering it. Shielding it.
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Anything except the literal, bare facts: Weight and the sighs of the mat and the scent along Rupert's hairline that's half-sweet and half-savoury, herbs and kelp.
"Maybe it's better, then," Daniel says, pulling Rupert's shirt up, stroking his palm in wide arcs over his back. Such tight skin, worn-down and softened. "Not remembering, I mean."
He doesn't want to think that there's someone out there who bruised his face and left scars like spiderwebs all over his chest, scars that burn in the wake of Rupert's fingers. He just wants to feel this, the tension and twists of Rupert's back, the taste of him soaking into Daniel's mouth, the jerky, exploratory rhythm of their hips, this hiss-and-drag of friction. Moving hands, roving mouths, muffled squeaks of the mat -- Daniel wants the literal, Rupert and the tightening burn of his skin, more than any memory.
Rupert's bones are thicker, stronger, than Daniel's own, and the hair on his chest scratches up more need through Daniel's, and every time he nips down on Daniel's lip, Daniel wants to shout with the joy of it. His mind spins, bright colors, then black-and-white, and he knows as surely as anything not to bite back, but he can't stop his fingers from curling into pseudo-claws and pulling Rupert down, in, closer.
He wraps one leg around Rupert's waist, locking his foot between Rupert's legs, and thrusts up sharply so Rupert opens his eyes.
"Can we --?" Daniel feels the question shrivel, then grind away, in the back of his throat. He scratches a swift line down Rupert's side and over the swell of his ass, still trapped in his pants. "Want to fuck."
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A shudder rocks Daniel's body, he's gulping in air and his hands dig and knead in the flesh of Rupert's back. He likes to be talked to. "Want to know you." If Daniel is all Rupert knows in the world, he wants to know him completely. He wants expertise, virtuosity. "What you like, how you look naked, what sounds you make when someone runs his tongue along your cock." Daniel really likes being talked to-he's gone whirlwind, tugging Rupert's shirt off, kissing him in hungry staccato, legs and arms all wound around him, rubbing a calf against his arse, pushing up and pulling Rupert down, under him and surrounding him.
Like he's been waiting a hundred years for this fuck, cloistered and starving, and he's driving Rupert's own need to frenzied urgency just when he wanted to be slow. At the moment they're both virgins, every touch is the first, and Rupert wants this to take time. This should open moment by moment, like an epic or a quest, until it's massive, until it's a whole landscape, a history, a world.
The others might come wandering back any minute, but Rupert's fairly sure he doesn't care.
He catches Daniel's hands, which are pushing under the waist of his trousers, and holds them down. Daniel stills, trembling a little, and whines when Rupert licks his nipple. So tiny, this little fold of skin, but it stiffens as Rupert sucks and rolls it between his teeth, and Daniel's whines deepen into rough grunts.
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If he didn't understand before, the crackling grip of Rupert's hold on his wrists would be enough to tell him. Daniel pushes up again, just to see, meeting challenge with challenge, and hears Rupert chuckle just before biting harder. Stilling him again in a sharp, spreading wave of need.
This is fun, this is something he knows how to do without thinking about it, this is what he wants. No memories, of bruises and scars and politeness, just weight and the dare that flows between them with each touch and click of the clock. A dare that doubles, then triples, and Daniel keeps very still as long as he can, until Rupert looks up, checking his face, and Daniel twists his arms, freeing his wrists, and wrenches his hips, and they roll in a cloud of dust until Daniel crouches over Rupert.
He sits back on his heels, hands on Rupert's waist, and cocks his head.
"But that's what I want," he says, lowering his chest, letting the heels of his palms skate lightly over Rupert's chest. Rupert is scarred, too, the webs bright against the cream-and-flush of Rupert's skin. Daniel tastes one scar, then another, and feels Rupert shiver beneath him. When he scrapes teeth through hair, following a scar and finding a flat, dark-rose nipple, Rupert quakes and gasps. Breath that spills out, below words, twisting and grunting, and Daniel looks up. "You taste -- God. So good, pewter and fresh herbs. And you look --"
Rupert looks like sex. That's the best Daniel can do: mussed hair, cheeks flushed darker than brick, eyes that glitter and mouth that works and twists. His chest is broad, his waist tapers into strong thighs, and Daniel pushes against the lump of his hard-on until Rupert's eyes flutter closed.
"Look like sex. Taste like it, too. Salty --" He can't go slow, not as slow as Rupert wants, and kneeling here, he's floating, evaporating, and Daniel releases Rupert's arms, lets them fold around him, hold him and roll him over, and then he's on his back again, staring up. Thinking of the sky Anya made, all yellow and purple, bruise and gunmetal, and it's not half so alien and beautiful as Rupert's face looming over him. Dark shadows, mostly, just gleam of eyes and tongue, and Daniel wraps his legs around Rupert's waist and says, "Anything you want. Just don't stop."
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"Stopping," he says, cupping Daniel's face in his palms, "is the only thing I don't want."
As he kisses Daniel he shifts back onto his knees, drawing Daniel up with him, and slips his hands between their bodies. "What I do want-" he outlines Daniel's erection with two fingers "-is to get these bloody clothes off of us." Button and zip, quick work even with Daniel pulling at Rupert's own flies so that they get in each other's way, and inside the opening there's such heat, melting-heat even through the heavy gray cotton of his pants. "Christ," Rupert says, palm trembling against hardness, against need, and Daniel is pressed so close against him that he's sure he can feel the slide of Daniel's muscles and the circulation of his blood.
Rupert can't move as Daniel finally gets his buttons undone, as Daniel swears under his breath and shoves a hand inside, under Rupert's pants, hot sticky hand on Rupert's cock. The ache in his balls twists and tightens and then he has to move, has to flatten Daniel to the mat with a thump and strip off his shoes and trousers and everything. Narrow hips with the bones jutting out stark, a patch of red-brown hair, swollen cock dark against his belly, all so beautiful, and when Rupert slicks kisses over Daniel's belly the scent of musk and sex has him groaning low in his throat.
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He lifts his head, lead-heavy, and sees first the flexing span of Rupert's shoulders, then his eyes, locked on Daniel like if he blinks, Daniel will disappear. Three coughs, several licks at dried-out lips, and when he finally speaks, Daniel *still* sounds hoarse and lost. "Want to see you. Strip -- take your clothes off." His palm aches where it had closed around Rupert's dick, the skin there alien -- hot but so soft, stretched over such tension -- and without thinking, he brings his hand to his mouth, licks his palm good and wet. "Touch you."
Rupert nods, and they seem to have passed from frenzy to something much slower, underwater and dreams. Somehow, Daniel's sitting up, heart pounding out tattoos in his chest, skull, and cock, and Rupert rises onto his knees, sighing through clenched teeth while Daniel skims down his trousers.
Normal -- how's he know it's normal? -- white cotton briefs, bleached and bright, stretched obscenely over his erection. The erection Daniel has only felt, not yet seen, and as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband, tongue caught between his teeth, he feels Rupert's chest swell against his forehead as he takes in a breath he doesn't release. A snag, then ease, and Daniel's mouth opens when Rupert's finally naked. Whorls of light hair on his thighs, dark thatch around a thick cock, red at the tip, smoky purple down the shaft.
"Foreskin," Daniel says under his breath and thinks, absurdly, of Helen Keller at the well, Annie tracing water over her palm, as he touches Rupert and feels him shake, breath spilling out in a whine. "Oh, man." Each time he wiggles at the heartbreakingly-thin membrane, Rupert teeters on his knees and almost whimpers. His hand closes on Daniel's shoulder, pushes him on to his back, and then they're rolling again, and Rupert is heavy, warm, naked around Daniel.
He might as well have been blind, deaf, and mute until now, until touch and kiss and Rupert came, and Daniel's spinning again, drunk on the novelty. He's kissing Rupert's neck, sucking at a tendon, hands kneading Rupert's ass and he realizes he's saying, "Now, now, now --" between each breath and nibble.
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But he looks up and it's Daniel speaking, open lips widening around the syllable, and Rupert stares at the dark wet sheen inside Daniel's mouth and shudders. He's hardly started, there are whole stretches of Daniel unknown, untouched. But these inside places, so secret, and watching Daniel's tongue move behind his teeth, Rupert can't help imagining them. Feeling them beforehand, wet heat around his cock or a tight ring of muscle and yielding softness beyond it.
"Now, yes," he says, hand closing over Daniel's hip to still him. "Need to - Daniel. Need to fuck you. Please." Daniel's eyes go dark, pupils spreading so wide that Rupert feels dizzy, and it's an unmistakeable yes even before he nods. "Daniel," Rupert says again, and kisses him with open-mouthed clumsiness, smearing his face and pulling at his hair. Daniel sucks his lips, slurps his tongue into that wet mouth, and it's the biggest marvel of the day that a calm expressionless boy could want like this.
A kiss like this one is halfway to fucking already, and it would be so wonderful just to push inside him. But there are necessities. Rupert pulls a little away, stretching liquid spiderwebs between his lips and Daniel's, and says, "Condom. Have to - and lube." There's a bottle of lube in Daniel's jacket, which is in the other room, and Daniel's face breaks into a grin as wide and embarrassed as Rupert's own when he remembers.
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But Rupert's tottering upwards himself, and the floor past the mat is shockingly cold, making them dance from foot to foot and grab hands as they dash into the store. Lube from his jacket and Daniel juggles it for a moment before he realizes that he really doesn't have any pockets to stow it in, and then he pulls Rupert into the other back room.
An office, full of packing crates he borrowed to pen up bunnies, and he stops short on the threshold, suddenly highly aware of his nakedness. Stops, and crashes back into Rupert, who's laughing, too, and folds an arm over Daniel's chest.
"Just gonna look for half a second," Daniel says, pushing the lube into Rupert's hand and breaking away for the desk under the window. No memories, but he's aware of time like the old hourglass, aware of chances possibly clicking away. He's also naked and trespassing, and for some reason, it's just really funny. He's laughing, glancing up occasionally at the dark silhouette Rupert makes in the doorway, shuffling through accounting statements and crusty bottles of White-Out and pencils, erasers, rubber bands, legal clips, until -- finally. "Voila!"
Daniel waves the small ribbon of condoms at Rupert and then the sight arrests him. Dark, cramped office and Rupert there, outlined with brassy light, naked and tall and waiting for him. Daniel doesn't breathe as his hand drops and he moves around the desk, toward Rupert, across the room, his bones gone balsa-light inside thundering blood and too-tight skin. When he stands in front of Rupert, his head tips back and arms go around Rupert's waist, and he kisses him again for the first time.
All the taste of him, like red wine and fine dining, and the presence of him, holding Daniel, kissing him back, it's all that Daniel knows of the world. It's enough. They stumble back through the store and Daniel doesn't want to open his eyes. He wants to know everything this way, by touching and tasting, even if it means barking his shin and banging his elbow several times over.
The color behind his lids darkens and it's quiet again as Rupert pulls back. Daniel's lips burn as the kiss ends and he opens his eyes, they're back in the gym room, his palms are sliding up the backs of Rupert's thighs, and his hips are rocking, rubbing his cock against Rupert's leg.
"Ready," Daniel says and closes his fingers into bunches of muscle as he smiles at Rupert. "All over again."
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Across the room there's a leather pommel horse, and Rupert, tonguing a bite mark on Daniel's shoulder, pictures him bent over it. Red-faced, his lovely arse in the air, his cock bobbing and exposed. "Oh, fuck. Going to fuck you. Beautiful boy, going to-" But of course it wouldn't work, Rupert's too much taller.
Doesn't matter, positions are nothing, what matters is that Daniel's shaking, letting out little groans every time Rupert's fingers brush his crack, his fingers are scratching bluntly over Rupert's back and arse, and he's butting his forehead against Rupert's chest like a pleading child. "Kneel down," Rupert says, and Daniel collapses like a dynamited building before struggling up again on all fours. Rupert kneels behind him, over him, arms around Daniel's chest, and kisses between his shoulderblades. "Yes, yes," he whispers, sliding his hands down Daniel's sides as he moves back, licking a trail down his knobby backbone. When Rupert reaches the dip at the base of his spine, soft and hot, Daniel makes a strangled noise and spreads his legs wider. "So perfect." Skin so pale under Rupert's hands, the valley between his cheeks glistening a little with sweat, a tiny puckered hole that's such a delicate pink Rupert can't help thinking of flowers. He drags his tongue down the deepening crevice, holding tight to Daniel's straining hips, tasting concentrated skin and darkness, feeling the muscle loosen as he circles it, and he knows that this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.
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Not invisible, though. Rupert is there, just fragmented into the other four senses. The grasp of his hands on Daniel's waist, pulling him at the same time they're holding him still, the taste of his mouth smeared around Daniel's lips, picked up again by Daniel's tongue, the smell of him, all laundry and clean sweat and something darker, sharper, that somehow reminds Daniel of lake weeds and snow in fields. The sounds Rupert is making, sweet encouraging grunts and swirling wet tongue, sounds that hit Daniel's ears and travel through his veins.
Symphonies and jazz improvs, notes spinning too fast to catch, and timpani that bellows and shudders through Daniel, from Rupert's mouth up his chest and out his own mouth. He's dizzy, but he's on the floor, and sweat is prickling out while his skin glows then chills and glows again.
Daniel twists a little, getting a warning noise from Rupert, and catches a glimpse of Rupert right there, on his knees, shoulders broad and arms strong, holding him close and still and tight. His cock aches, untouched and too hot in the dark, and the groans he's been making twist together into words.
"Want to feel you," he says, and Rupert's eyes close, so he adds, "Inside me, deep as you can. Okay? Just want that, want you."
Almost grimacing, Rupert hauls him back, lifting Daniel's hips, and Daniel's head drops forward again. He drops into the red-tinged darkness behind his lids, where everything's unfurling, spinning apart, flames that dance and split like amoebae, heat like magma and geysers pulling him slack and ready.
Not ready, shocked and grateful, when something nudges against his hole, tracing spirals and pushing more firmly, and Daniel yelps, then sighs.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says, and maybe his voice is his own, but it sounds high and reedy, "Just like that. You're amazing, so amazing. More, more. Want you, give anything --"
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Three fingers now, stretching Daniel wide, and it doesn't seem to hurt him or scare him. Of course he's fucked before, of course his body remembers how to relax and open. It's only his mind that's virginal, that's never felt this. Only his mind, like Rupert's, that's dazed with newness, with the hunger to find out what's next, how much better it can possibly get. Rupert crooks his fingers forward, strokes, and he can hear the surprise in Daniel's quick breathless shout. "Going to - want to feel what it's like inside you,
Daniel," he says, not moving, holding Daniel as he trembles. "Feel you around my cock, so tight and so-" There's a moan from Daniel, half disappointment and half anticipation, as Rupert slides his fingers out.
Quickly Rupert unrolls a condom down his cock, snagging a stray hair and cursing, smears cold lube on himself and more on Daniel, and he's starting to shake too, he's too hot and his skin sparks with impatience. "Give you what you want." Guides the head of his cock against Daniel's hole, pushes gently, and Daniel stretches around him, opens for him, and he watches the tip slide into the narrow hot slick space in Daniel's body and it's so good, so perfect he has to grit his teeth and stop. Gentle, slow, he doesn't want to hurt Daniel and anyway he's afraid he might come too soon, disappoint him. Careful little thrusts forwards, hands gripping Daniel's bony hips too hard, his own grunts and gasps reverberating with Daniel's, and once in a while he can get out words. "Going to - so deep. Inside you. All the way. So good, so good, Daniel, fuck." He leans over Daniel's back as he sinks in, and then he's there, balls brushing Daniel's arse, biting fiercely on the knob of Daniel's shoulderblade, and then he pulls back and thrusts and hears them both shout.
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