To Touch the Face - Eighth Installment
I opened my eyes at last to look up into a handsome face flushed and sweaty with passion, and I could feel his cock, hard and throbbing, against my belly. “Can we do it again?” I asked.
Part 8
“I think that might just be arranged,” the big lout answered with a deliciously evil gleam in his eye. He moved against me like a great cat, his teeth nipping me lightly on my neck, my chest, oh, and my nipples. I arched up, once again conflicted about whether I wanted more or wanted him to stop. Somewhere along the way, my intellect had faded into an inconsequential, slightly annoying running commentary in my head that had no real impact on my actions at all.
“Stop mumbling to yourself,” Duncan whispered against my flesh. “Or I’ll think you’re not enjoying this and stop.”
I pressed my lips together tightly and closed my eyes, but that resolve of silence quickly fled when his fingers traveled between my legs, fondling my testicles then touching, pressing and rubbing my anus with careful tenderness. My eyes flew open and I gasped and groaned at the intensity of the need to both pull away and wanting him to press harder. Damnation, this was confusing!
“Easy, Gabe,” he murmured softly, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “You’d think you’d never done this before.” Then he paused and raised his head, looking me in the eye. “You have done this before, right? I mean, I assumed…,” he flushed and moved his hands away from my hottest, most private places. “Gabriel?” he asked, his eyes all dark and wide and glittery and full of uncertainty. Something inside me felt like it cracked a little at that look of tender, almost frightened concern.
“Of course I’ve done it before!” I insisted.
Okay, okay, that was a bit of a lie.
It really shouldn’t be that surprising, you know, and the whole myth that somehow God’s minions couldn’t lie had always amused me. Humans have never dealt well with truth, and Duncan certainly wouldn’t understand that while I had never actually had sexual intercourse, I had witnessed it in every possible combination and permutation physically possible for ages beyond counting. So, while I was technically a virgin, intellectually I was the most jaded being he’d likely ever know. “It’s just… been a really long time,” I added. “And if you stop I may have to kill you.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” he asked with an irritatingly attractive raised eyebrow and quirky smile. “Dying would be so inconvenient right now.” Holding eye contact, his hand once again slid between my legs and rubbed gently, opening me ever so slowly as my breath control seemed to fly out the door and I found myself panting for air. I couldn’t hold his intense stare anymore and let my head fall back and my eyes close, pushing into his hand as finally a thick finger slipped past what was a hot, tense point of pain and then inside. I honestly don’t know why my body was so anxious to do this, to have him on me, in me, occupying every space that defined me. To be held, to be absorbed and fondled and squeezed, to have nerve endings that had never known stimulation to suddenly, wonderfully, amazingly come alive, to make ME feel alive as I had never felt before…
My senses melted into some swirling puddle of heat and sweat and movement and… need. Oh, the NEED. Faster, harder… he was fully inside me and still I wanted more, but what exactly the want was seemed elusive, just…
YES! That was it! That was it exactly! Right there!! AGAIN!! And aga… Oh. My. Sweet. God.
.....
......
“Gabe?”
“Gabriel”
“mmm” It was the best I could do under the circumstances, but then an amazing aroma drifted into my awareness, and I forced one eye open. He was delightfully tousled, his hair falling in messy tendrils around his shoulders, his chest half-revealed under a loosely belted silk robe. I closed my eyes again and took a quick inventory. Somehow during the evening we had actually made it to the bed for at least a third round of sexual congress, the memory of which made me smile. I was… sore, but couldn’t say I regretted the cause. I felt a little sticky with sweat and other things, but I didn’t regret that, either. I opened my eyes again to find Duncan taking his own inventory, but his expression was soft and affectionate as he waved a coffee cup across my chest so the rich smell of liqueur-laced coffee once again teased my senses.
“Wakey, wakey, Gabriel. You can sleep here, if you want, but I’m normally up at about 6am. Come to think of it, we could go for a run together,” he added as I laboriously pushed myself up to sitting and took the cup of liquid ambrosia, sipping it carefully. He leaned in and nipped my shoulder lightly. “That might be fun.”
“Fun? Are you aware that I usually work until about 2 or 3 in the morning, and rarely get up before noon?” I asked irritably. “And deliberately getting sweaty before breakfast?” I shuddered at the thought.
“Then how do you keep your body so lean and strong?” he asked, leaning in again, this time nibbling on an earlobe.
“What’s with the biting?” I pushed him away and sat up, moving my feet to the floor. Actually, his question was a good one. I had only been mortal for a few weeks and I already noticed my body getting softer. I was used to being able to call on an infinite amount of strength whenever I needed it, but it seemed this mortal flesh was less… cooperative. “I guess I’ve got good genes,” I finally murmured in response to his question, wondering if I would actually have to… exercise. I shuddered again.
“Cold?” he asked, rubbing my naked shoulder with a warm, callused hand.
“No,” I sighed. “Just not used to…”
“Not used to what?”
I looked over at him, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. Duncan was giving every appearance of wanting to… I don’t know… bond, or something. Yes, the man was damned attractive and sexy and the sex itself was amazing, but the notion of attaching myself to someone… not for me. I had been servant to one Master and one Master only since the beginning of my existence, and accommodating the will, whims and needs of another person? Not Going To Happen. Even for really great sex.
“Not used to waking up in someone else’s bed,” I answered. Well, that was the truth, wasn’t it?
“Well, you can wake up in my bed anytime,” Duncan purred, moving in for a kiss, but halfway there, he stopped, his expression suddenly going from soft and sexy to hard and grim. Moving faster than any mortal ought, he strode toward the door and reached up to the ledge where I knew he kept his famous katana, and his hand closed around its hilt just a knock sounded on the door.
“MacLeod, it’s me!” a baritone voice called.
Duncan paused, still in an aggressive pose, but reluctant to draw the weapon in my presence, no doubt. “Pierson?” he called.
“Well, yeah! Did you think it was Santa Claus?”
There was a marginal relaxation of Duncan’s shoulders, he let go of the sword and opened the door, but blocked any entrance with his body so I couldn’t see who was there. “What the hell are you doing here this time of night!” he whispered.
“Collecting for UNICEF,” the male voice answered wryly. “What the hell do you think I’m doing here? I just got in from London and found out it rained like hell here last week and evidently that caused some kind of millennial flood in my apartment building that they didn’t bother to tell me about, so my place is uninhabitable. What’s the matter, MacLeod? Got a hot date?”
“It’s not a good time. Can’t you stay at a hotel?”
“Adam Pierson doesn’t stay at hotels, MacLeod, you know that. And it’s past 2am, surely you’re done with your amours for the nonce, at least.”
Duncan stumbled back, bullied out of the way by his unwanted guest, and in strode a lean figure clad in a long, dark raincoat carrying a large duffle bag which he dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Hazel eyes hovering over a substantial nose met mine, and we both froze.
Then I stood, slowly. Warily. Almost forgetting that I was stark naked.
He straightened and his eyes widened in surprise.
“Well, well, well,” he said softly, cocking his head slightly to one side. “Do I know you?”
I grabbed a sheet and yanked it loose from the bed, dramatically swirling it around my torso. “I seriously doubt it!” I huffed, and turned on my heel to march into the bathroom. Unfortunately, the sheet got caught in my feet halfway there, and I ended up stumbling through the door and caroming into the sink. Barely recovering my balance and pulling the trailing sheet out of the way, I caught a quick glimpse of a puzzled Duncan and a stunned “Adam Pierson” just before I slammed the door closed, then locked it for good measure.
…. To be continued.
Part 8
“I think that might just be arranged,” the big lout answered with a deliciously evil gleam in his eye. He moved against me like a great cat, his teeth nipping me lightly on my neck, my chest, oh, and my nipples. I arched up, once again conflicted about whether I wanted more or wanted him to stop. Somewhere along the way, my intellect had faded into an inconsequential, slightly annoying running commentary in my head that had no real impact on my actions at all.
“Stop mumbling to yourself,” Duncan whispered against my flesh. “Or I’ll think you’re not enjoying this and stop.”
I pressed my lips together tightly and closed my eyes, but that resolve of silence quickly fled when his fingers traveled between my legs, fondling my testicles then touching, pressing and rubbing my anus with careful tenderness. My eyes flew open and I gasped and groaned at the intensity of the need to both pull away and wanting him to press harder. Damnation, this was confusing!
“Easy, Gabe,” he murmured softly, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “You’d think you’d never done this before.” Then he paused and raised his head, looking me in the eye. “You have done this before, right? I mean, I assumed…,” he flushed and moved his hands away from my hottest, most private places. “Gabriel?” he asked, his eyes all dark and wide and glittery and full of uncertainty. Something inside me felt like it cracked a little at that look of tender, almost frightened concern.
“Of course I’ve done it before!” I insisted.
Okay, okay, that was a bit of a lie.
It really shouldn’t be that surprising, you know, and the whole myth that somehow God’s minions couldn’t lie had always amused me. Humans have never dealt well with truth, and Duncan certainly wouldn’t understand that while I had never actually had sexual intercourse, I had witnessed it in every possible combination and permutation physically possible for ages beyond counting. So, while I was technically a virgin, intellectually I was the most jaded being he’d likely ever know. “It’s just… been a really long time,” I added. “And if you stop I may have to kill you.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” he asked with an irritatingly attractive raised eyebrow and quirky smile. “Dying would be so inconvenient right now.” Holding eye contact, his hand once again slid between my legs and rubbed gently, opening me ever so slowly as my breath control seemed to fly out the door and I found myself panting for air. I couldn’t hold his intense stare anymore and let my head fall back and my eyes close, pushing into his hand as finally a thick finger slipped past what was a hot, tense point of pain and then inside. I honestly don’t know why my body was so anxious to do this, to have him on me, in me, occupying every space that defined me. To be held, to be absorbed and fondled and squeezed, to have nerve endings that had never known stimulation to suddenly, wonderfully, amazingly come alive, to make ME feel alive as I had never felt before…
My senses melted into some swirling puddle of heat and sweat and movement and… need. Oh, the NEED. Faster, harder… he was fully inside me and still I wanted more, but what exactly the want was seemed elusive, just…
YES! That was it! That was it exactly! Right there!! AGAIN!! And aga… Oh. My. Sweet. God.
.....
......
“Gabe?”
“Gabriel”
“mmm” It was the best I could do under the circumstances, but then an amazing aroma drifted into my awareness, and I forced one eye open. He was delightfully tousled, his hair falling in messy tendrils around his shoulders, his chest half-revealed under a loosely belted silk robe. I closed my eyes again and took a quick inventory. Somehow during the evening we had actually made it to the bed for at least a third round of sexual congress, the memory of which made me smile. I was… sore, but couldn’t say I regretted the cause. I felt a little sticky with sweat and other things, but I didn’t regret that, either. I opened my eyes again to find Duncan taking his own inventory, but his expression was soft and affectionate as he waved a coffee cup across my chest so the rich smell of liqueur-laced coffee once again teased my senses.
“Wakey, wakey, Gabriel. You can sleep here, if you want, but I’m normally up at about 6am. Come to think of it, we could go for a run together,” he added as I laboriously pushed myself up to sitting and took the cup of liquid ambrosia, sipping it carefully. He leaned in and nipped my shoulder lightly. “That might be fun.”
“Fun? Are you aware that I usually work until about 2 or 3 in the morning, and rarely get up before noon?” I asked irritably. “And deliberately getting sweaty before breakfast?” I shuddered at the thought.
“Then how do you keep your body so lean and strong?” he asked, leaning in again, this time nibbling on an earlobe.
“What’s with the biting?” I pushed him away and sat up, moving my feet to the floor. Actually, his question was a good one. I had only been mortal for a few weeks and I already noticed my body getting softer. I was used to being able to call on an infinite amount of strength whenever I needed it, but it seemed this mortal flesh was less… cooperative. “I guess I’ve got good genes,” I finally murmured in response to his question, wondering if I would actually have to… exercise. I shuddered again.
“Cold?” he asked, rubbing my naked shoulder with a warm, callused hand.
“No,” I sighed. “Just not used to…”
“Not used to what?”
I looked over at him, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. Duncan was giving every appearance of wanting to… I don’t know… bond, or something. Yes, the man was damned attractive and sexy and the sex itself was amazing, but the notion of attaching myself to someone… not for me. I had been servant to one Master and one Master only since the beginning of my existence, and accommodating the will, whims and needs of another person? Not Going To Happen. Even for really great sex.
“Not used to waking up in someone else’s bed,” I answered. Well, that was the truth, wasn’t it?
“Well, you can wake up in my bed anytime,” Duncan purred, moving in for a kiss, but halfway there, he stopped, his expression suddenly going from soft and sexy to hard and grim. Moving faster than any mortal ought, he strode toward the door and reached up to the ledge where I knew he kept his famous katana, and his hand closed around its hilt just a knock sounded on the door.
“MacLeod, it’s me!” a baritone voice called.
Duncan paused, still in an aggressive pose, but reluctant to draw the weapon in my presence, no doubt. “Pierson?” he called.
“Well, yeah! Did you think it was Santa Claus?”
There was a marginal relaxation of Duncan’s shoulders, he let go of the sword and opened the door, but blocked any entrance with his body so I couldn’t see who was there. “What the hell are you doing here this time of night!” he whispered.
“Collecting for UNICEF,” the male voice answered wryly. “What the hell do you think I’m doing here? I just got in from London and found out it rained like hell here last week and evidently that caused some kind of millennial flood in my apartment building that they didn’t bother to tell me about, so my place is uninhabitable. What’s the matter, MacLeod? Got a hot date?”
“It’s not a good time. Can’t you stay at a hotel?”
“Adam Pierson doesn’t stay at hotels, MacLeod, you know that. And it’s past 2am, surely you’re done with your amours for the nonce, at least.”
Duncan stumbled back, bullied out of the way by his unwanted guest, and in strode a lean figure clad in a long, dark raincoat carrying a large duffle bag which he dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Hazel eyes hovering over a substantial nose met mine, and we both froze.
Then I stood, slowly. Warily. Almost forgetting that I was stark naked.
He straightened and his eyes widened in surprise.
“Well, well, well,” he said softly, cocking his head slightly to one side. “Do I know you?”
I grabbed a sheet and yanked it loose from the bed, dramatically swirling it around my torso. “I seriously doubt it!” I huffed, and turned on my heel to march into the bathroom. Unfortunately, the sheet got caught in my feet halfway there, and I ended up stumbling through the door and caroming into the sink. Barely recovering my balance and pulling the trailing sheet out of the way, I caught a quick glimpse of a puzzled Duncan and a stunned “Adam Pierson” just before I slammed the door closed, then locked it for good measure.
…. To be continued.