the drift & flutter of a maple leaf on an early autumn breeze (1/?)
anonymous
April 30 2009, 02:40:47 UTC
Alfred and Arthur lie on the bed, naked. Unless the ink of their tattoos counts, which Matthew doesn't think it does. They're all stripes and naked; stripes and stars and stripes, and naked.
Coat still buttoned up, Matthew sits in the chair, holding the bottle Alfred gave him when they took him to get his own tattoo early in the evening. The tattoo was Arthur's gift to him. A maple leaf. Nary a star nor stripe in sight.
The tattoo was Arthur's gift and the bottle was Alfred's. Tequila, Alfred told him confidently, was the way to go when getting inked. Matthew believed him; still does. Takes another sip. He and Alfred are close to the same age, but Alfred has lived a fast lifetime in his years, fast enough to kiss someone like Arthur like this. Alfred and Arthur tongue each other's bodies, each other's mouths. Alfred's mouth works its way down Arthur's body to lick the head of Arthur's cock. Lick, lick, lick. And then Alfred swallows Arthur down.
Matthew licks the mouth of the bottle; the bottle doesn't lick back. It does roll tequila over his tongue and down his throat and into his belly, giving him a little warmth-but no heat, no glow, not like Alfred and Arthur are giving each other.
Matthew watches them: hot. He shivers. Laps tequila from the unsmiling mouth of the bottle. Looks into it, down to the bottle, down to the little worm inside.
"Matthew. Hey, Matt."
He looks up: Alfred and Arthur are turned his way. Alfred smiles and holds out his hand, bright stars dancing down his extended arm.
Matthew swallows hard and he can't say yes, but he does get up; the bottle falls to the floor and what little tequila is left seeps into the carpet. He looks down, then back up: when his eyes meet Alfred's, he can't remember the spilled tequila and he can't remember the worm. He lets Alfred take his hand and climbs onto the bed with them, and Alfred asks which one of them Matthew wants to fuck and which of them he wants to be fucked by.
Matthew opens his mouth and blinks. Alfred is already undressing him. Not caressing, but not ripping. Methodical.
Alfred looks up from the coat button he's undoing and sees Matthew watching him. "Or maybe you don't want anyone to fuck you?"
Matthew says, "You." Wets his lips and says it again.
Alfred keeps undressing Matthew, slipping Matthew's arm out of the coat sleeve, but he's looking at Matthew's face now. "You want me to fuck you?" Alfred repeats with a smile. Matthew nods and hopes it's not a joke. Sliding Matthew's other arm free, Alfred says, "You want me to fuck you while you fuck Arthur?"
Matthew blinks again. He turns to look at Arthur, stretched out on the bed beside them. He hears himself whimper.
"Okay," Alfred says softly in his ear. "Okay, Matt; we can do that."
It's Matthew's first time, he tells them. Arthur is a little worried that this might be too much for him. But Matthew wants the too much.
"'Course you do." Alfred's teeth show in his smile when he says it.
Alfred smiles, tequila yeah, and shows Matthew how to prepare Arthur, how to stretch him, slick him up. Arthur is on his hands and knees, and Alfred is using just one finger, and Matthew is fascinated. He moves closer. Closer, until his cheek is brushing Arthur's arse and he's maybe too close to focus properly, but he needs to be this close. He isn't aware of what Alfred is saying anymore. He's mesmerized by the rhythm, the twist and slide.
Then Alfred takes his finger out of Arthur and Matthew kisses the fingertip. Sucks the finger into his mouth, and looks at Alfred because he doesn't know if this is cool or absurd.
Alfred makes a soft sound, something more than breathing, and slides his finger in and out of Matthew's mouth, in and out, the rhythm a slow slide.
Looking over his shoulder, Arthur watches them until Alfred notices and stops fingerfucking Matthew's mouth. Gaze locked with Arthur's, Alfred slides his finger inside Arthur again and tells Matthew to join him.
Matthew looks at Alfred. At Alfred's finger sliding into Arthur's arse. Then Alfred's other hand is around Matthew's wrist: "Here, let him help you." Alfred guides Matthew's hand to Arthur's mouth, and Arthur takes him in.
Coat still buttoned up, Matthew sits in the chair, holding the bottle Alfred gave him when they took him to get his own tattoo early in the evening. The tattoo was Arthur's gift to him. A maple leaf. Nary a star nor stripe in sight.
The tattoo was Arthur's gift and the bottle was Alfred's. Tequila, Alfred told him confidently, was the way to go when getting inked. Matthew believed him; still does. Takes another sip. He and Alfred are close to the same age, but Alfred has lived a fast lifetime in his years, fast enough to kiss someone like Arthur like this. Alfred and Arthur tongue each other's bodies, each other's mouths. Alfred's mouth works its way down Arthur's body to lick the head of Arthur's cock. Lick, lick, lick. And then Alfred swallows Arthur down.
Matthew licks the mouth of the bottle; the bottle doesn't lick back. It does roll tequila over his tongue and down his throat and into his belly, giving him a little warmth-but no heat, no glow, not like Alfred and Arthur are giving each other.
Matthew watches them: hot. He shivers. Laps tequila from the unsmiling mouth of the bottle. Looks into it, down to the bottle, down to the little worm inside.
"Matthew. Hey, Matt."
He looks up: Alfred and Arthur are turned his way. Alfred smiles and holds out his hand, bright stars dancing down his extended arm.
Matthew swallows hard and he can't say yes, but he does get up; the bottle falls to the floor and what little tequila is left seeps into the carpet. He looks down, then back up: when his eyes meet Alfred's, he can't remember the spilled tequila and he can't remember the worm. He lets Alfred take his hand and climbs onto the bed with them, and Alfred asks which one of them Matthew wants to fuck and which of them he wants to be fucked by.
Matthew opens his mouth and blinks. Alfred is already undressing him. Not caressing, but not ripping. Methodical.
Alfred looks up from the coat button he's undoing and sees Matthew watching him. "Or maybe you don't want anyone to fuck you?"
Matthew says, "You." Wets his lips and says it again.
Alfred keeps undressing Matthew, slipping Matthew's arm out of the coat sleeve, but he's looking at Matthew's face now. "You want me to fuck you?" Alfred repeats with a smile. Matthew nods and hopes it's not a joke. Sliding Matthew's other arm free, Alfred says, "You want me to fuck you while you fuck Arthur?"
Matthew blinks again. He turns to look at Arthur, stretched out on the bed beside them. He hears himself whimper.
"Okay," Alfred says softly in his ear. "Okay, Matt; we can do that."
It's Matthew's first time, he tells them. Arthur is a little worried that this might be too much for him. But Matthew wants the too much.
"'Course you do." Alfred's teeth show in his smile when he says it.
Alfred smiles, tequila yeah, and shows Matthew how to prepare Arthur, how to stretch him, slick him up. Arthur is on his hands and knees, and Alfred is using just one finger, and Matthew is fascinated. He moves closer. Closer, until his cheek is brushing Arthur's arse and he's maybe too close to focus properly, but he needs to be this close. He isn't aware of what Alfred is saying anymore. He's mesmerized by the rhythm, the twist and slide.
Then Alfred takes his finger out of Arthur and Matthew kisses the fingertip. Sucks the finger into his mouth, and looks at Alfred because he doesn't know if this is cool or absurd.
Alfred makes a soft sound, something more than breathing, and slides his finger in and out of Matthew's mouth, in and out, the rhythm a slow slide.
Looking over his shoulder, Arthur watches them until Alfred notices and stops fingerfucking Matthew's mouth. Gaze locked with Arthur's, Alfred slides his finger inside Arthur again and tells Matthew to join him.
Matthew looks at Alfred. At Alfred's finger sliding into Arthur's arse. Then Alfred's other hand is around Matthew's wrist: "Here, let him help you." Alfred guides Matthew's hand to Arthur's mouth, and Arthur takes him in.
to be continued
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