Chasing Death Metal Dreams (11 page)

Carlos tugged the denim down Nate’s slim, pale thighs and over his arched feet. So much goodness in that lean body, and he was going to taste it all. “Get on the bed.” He stood and pushed Nate’s shoulders backward.

Nate didn’t argue, just let Carlos arrange him on his back, his dick pointing eagerly upward. Carlos crawled up on the bed to loom over him.

“Your clothes?” Nate said breathily.

“Later.” He loved this, himself fully dressed with Nate splayed out naked under him. He bent to suck on Nate’s chest, raising a red mark just over one flat nipple, watching the sensitive nub wrinkle tight. He sucked that tight bud, flicking his tongue against it, then moved to the other side. Nate’s hands landed on his head again, but Carlos resisted any tugging and pushing. He was in charge here.

“Lower,” Nate begged.

“Later.” He dipped his hips so the roughness of his jeans dragged over Nate’s cockhead, and arched up to kiss the gasp off his mouth. Kissing was special, something he’d so often gone without. He lowered his weight to pin Nate to the bed and just enjoyed kissing for a while, taking over Nate’s mouth, sucking and biting his lips, while running his fingernails up and down Nate’s arms and shoulder.

He found a ticklish spot on Nate’s ribs that made him writhe and swear. Lowering his head, he mouthed down the column of Nate’s throat, faint stubble abrading his lips, until he could press a kiss on that sensitive place, pinning Nate with his hands and his weight.

“Bastard,” Nate muttered. “Gah.” His hips arched up under Carlos. Carlos laughed against his skin, then nipped him there. Nate’s yelp was high-pitched, and he twisted sideways.

Before Nate had settled back down, Carlos slid lower, gripped Nate’s hips, and sucked his cock into his mouth, clamping tongue and palate tight on its silky-skinned rigid length with as much pressure as he could get. Nate groaned roughly. “God, Carlos.”

So good.
This was pleasure. This was power. He bobbed his head in long slow motions, sucking upward until that rounded head was just trapped in his lips, then going down and deep until his mouth brushed dark curls. The sounds Nate made were heady encouragement.

When he felt the pulses of near-climax against his tongue he pulled off fast, and ringed the base of Nate’s dick with a tight grip.

“Don’t stop! Please?” Nate whined and panted short shallow breaths, head tipped back, his neck a strained arch.

Carlos grinned and held on until he felt Nate ease back from the brink. Then he slid off the bed and tugged Nate with him, bending Nate’s legs over the edge and spreading them wide. Nate propped himself up on his elbows, staring at him, long hair damp across his forehead. Carlos knelt between his thighs, reaching up with one hand to tug on Nate’s soft sac, and down with the other to unbutton his own jeans and reach inside. The touch of his own finger, pushed down low, made him take a fast breath. God, he was close himself, just from the power of winding Nate up. He rubbed himself in time to his gentle tugs on Nate, and they gasped together.

“Please, Carlos, please, mouth, now, please.” Nate reached down to grab his own dick.

“Not if you’re gonna try to drive,” Carlos growled, bending in to nip Nate’s inner thigh.

Nate raised his empty hand. “Okay. Not. Just… soon?”

“Now.” Carlos rose a bit higher, opened his mouth and captured Nate’s cockhead between his lips. This time, he went at it hard and fast, sucking, moaning, rubbing Nate’s round balls under the thin sac, as his other hand down below the edge of the bed found his own best places, his own favorite rhythm. He was startlingly close himself, his thighs trembling with pleasure. He let the edge of his teeth just drag up the underside of Nate’s cock, tracing a soft vein.

Nate whined painfully, desperately. “God. Now.”

On Carlos’s next deep plunge, Nate bucked against him and spilled into his mouth with a deep groan. Carlos kept it up, sucking, bobbing, rubbing both of them, drinking everything Nate gave him.
Yes. This. Suck him dry.

He shuddered and held back a groan of his own as his own body convulsed against his fingers.
Wow. Fuck, wow.
Taste, smell, touch; the electric dark flashes of climax ripped through him, and he lost concentration. Nate’s cock slipped from his mouth to slap wetly against Nate’s pale stomach. Carlos lowered his head, bracing his forehead against the shaking firmness of Nate’s thigh. He closed his eyes and slid his palms slowly down Nate’s calves, sparse hair rippling against his fingers, ending up gripping one slender ankle in each hand. For a minute he knelt there, his breath catching. Then he lifted his head to look up.

Nate had dropped back to lie plastered flat on his back on the bed. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. As Carlos eyed him, enjoying the view, he struggled back up onto his elbows.

Nate’s grin was crooked and warm. “Wow. Serious skills.”

“Thanks.” Carlos let go of him and rocked back onto his heels.

Nate patted the bed. “Come on up and relax for a minute. Then we’ll check out the beer.”

“Not yet.” Carlos stood and looked down at Nate, still spread out there, legs wide, cock damp and half-hard. “Not done with you.” That made Nate twitch, and Carlos smiled slowly and deliberately.

“Yeah?”

In answer, Carlos began stripping off his shirt, arching his back, flexing, making a show of it. Then he put his hands on his hips and eased his jeans down and off. His dick swung free, heavy against his thigh. The jock’s black straps framed him, and he turned, setting his clothes aside, letting Nate look at his ass, his back, then turned to reveal his chest, stomach, and everything.

Nate’s eyes darkened, and he reached out a hand. “C’mere.”

“I plan to.” Carlos went to the bedside table, opened the drawer without asking, and got out the lube and a condom. He tossed them on the bed beside Nate. “I got you off in five minutes. Now we’ll try the slow way.”

“Seven minutes,” Nate said. “At least.”

“Complaining?”

“No. God, no.” Nate scooted up against the pillows, swinging his legs back onto the mattress, and spread his arms and legs in obvious invitation.

“Better not.” He got on the bed, straddling Nate’s thighs, and bent to whisper against his throat, “You. Inside me. Deep and tight. That’s next.”

“Ngh.” Nate’s response wasn’t a word. “Yeah, okay, I might get it up again for that.”

Carlos laughed, and licked the salt taste off the soft skin under Nate’s jaw. Not much doubt about that. And Carlos wanted this; he was greedy for it. He wanted the fullness and pressure, the drag of a man’s dick against his rim. He might not have a prostate, but there was a place inside that echoed electrically to the thrust of a hard cock in him. He was going to tease, and kiss, and maybe bite. And when Nate was hard again, he was going to fuck him slowly and thoroughly, top him from the bottom until they both came apart.

He growled, deep in his throat, and caught a fold of that soft neck skin between his teeth, just hard enough to sting. Nate’s whimper was not pain, and Carlos felt the stir of Nate’s dick against his thigh. Hell, yeah, this was going to be good.

****

Half an hour later, Nate eased sideways on his back on the bed, his breath still rasping in his throat. Beside him, Carlos stretched his legs out, crossed his arms behind his head, and gave him a shit-eating grin. Nate elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “Proud of yourself?”

“You came twice. I call that a job well done.”

Nate did too, but he said, “Hell, I can do that on my own with one hand tied behind my back.”

“You into bondage?” Carlos’s voice was teasing too, but there was something about the now-rigid quality of his smile that made Nate sorry he’d said that. Carlos had these little triggers that could make his tone suddenly flatten, and Nate thought he might have hit one, even if he wasn’t quite sure where. He had a workable distraction though, if he was willing to go there.

“Nope, not one bit.” He hesitated a moment longer, but maybe a little oversharing would bring the easiness back between them. Carlos had already given Nate some of his secrets, unblinkingly and without apology, and that made it feel safe to say, “I had a boyfriend once, who wanted that, to tie me up and spank me. He didn’t listen when I said it wasn’t working for me and to let go, kept saying the burn would get good if I let him finish.”

“Shit!” Carlos’s face darkened, and he rolled up on his elbow to look at Nate. “What happened?”

“He finished, untied me, and I broke his nose.”

“Hell, yeah!” Carlos’s fierce expression almost made Nate laugh, until the look faded into uncertainty, maybe anxiety. “Was it a bad, um, thing?”

“For me? Nah.” He had the nonchalant tone down pat, covering the memory of how, for days afterward, for weeks even, he’d been hit by random shakes, realizing how awful it
could’ve
been. He never told anyone about that part. “I didn’t even mean to hit him that hard. I grabbed a math textbook off the bedside, went to clock him on the side of the head with it, and he turned.” The crunch of Garrett’s nose and the startled shock on his face as the blood poured out had been darkly satisfying though. “It burned that I’d trusted him. I should have guessed from the pizza.”

“Pizza?” At least Carlos simply looked puzzled now.

“He was my last college boyfriend. He wasn’t that bad of a guy but, um, he assumed if he liked something, everyone else should. Couldn’t see another point of view.” Nate had thought at first that Garrett was just socially awkward, that he didn’t know how to interact with people. He’d actually thought being together would help Garrett be more human. He’d put up with all the little selfish stuff, thinking he was making a difference for someone who needed him.

It turned out, Garrett had no real interest in anyone but himself. Nate forced a chuckle. “He kept sneaking pineapple onto our pizza, and telling me if I kept trying it I’d eventually see how awesome it was. I should’ve dumped him after the third pineapple pizza. It would’ve saved time.”

Carlos smiled, almost naturally. “No pineapple on pizza. Check. Although you know, also gross, so not a problem.”

“He had a few good ideas. The ice cube and hot coffee blow-jobs were excellent. But I’m not into bondage and I’m not into spanking. I
am
into your ass, which was actually much better than my own hand.” He let the joking in his voice get extra heavy. “Maybe even better than
both
my hands.”

“Fuck you.” But Carlos’s tone sounded properly amused now, not fake at all.

Nate breathed easier. “You could, if you want to. Um, can you?” This time, Carlos hadn’t hidden the real-looking dick that swung heavy from the jockstrap he was wearing, above a set of high-hanging balls. But he hadn’t gotten hard that Nate could see. Not that Nate had been coherent enough to really look. He looked now at the soft cut shape of it lying along Carlos’s hairy thigh.

Carlos sighed. “Yeah, I could. There’s a rod for it, that makes it hard, but I don’t do it much.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Sometimes.” Carlos shrugged.

“Is it, um, real? I mean, surgical.” Nate wasn’t sure what transmen usually did. It was kind of uncharted territory. He hadn’t meant to ask, but he’d had a bad lesson about assuming. Plus he had a cat’s curiosity, since forever.
If you don’t ask, you’ll never know.

“It’s a packer, a prosthetic.” Carlos lay back down flat, arms crossed on his chest. “You can touch it.”

Nate wasn’t sure if that meant he should, or if Carlos was waiting to see if he was curious in the wrong way. He was going to change the subject, but then he thought,
What the hell. If I was with some guy after sex, I might touch him. Why not?
He reached down and lightly touched the shaft, then rubbed over the balls, half hidden in the jockstrap. “Feels pretty real.”

“Cost my fucking soul.” Carlos rolled over, baring his ass framed by the black bands of elastic, spreading his thighs apart.

Nate groaned. “You have a great ass but twice is my limit.”

Carlos turned his head to meet Nate’s eyes, his gaze dark and serious. “We could test that out.”

“Not now. You brought good beer. Want some?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Stay put.” Nate slid out onto the floor, hauled himself to his feet exaggeratedly, and then went out into the main room for the brews. Ghost jumped down off the cat maze as he reached for the bottles, landing on the carpet near his feet. He didn’t look her in the eye, but paused, fiddling with the corner of one label, waiting to see what she would do. She hesitated, then walked past him to her empty food bowl and meowed demandingly. One neat white paw flicked out and tapped the bowl three inches sideways. Then she actually looked over at him.

“You’re supposed to be moving into the hand-feeding stage,” he said softly, setting the bottles down to pull out the Tupperware canister of kibble. She backed off a couple of paces as he tipped a meal’s worth into the bowl. “Be grateful that I don’t want to be disturbed tonight. There’s your dinner, Your Highness.” He stood by the dish for a moment, his eyes carefully averted, but she wasn’t ready to approach it until he stepped back two paces. “We’ll keep working on it,” he murmured. “
Bon appetit.
”

He picked up the beer. They’d screwed around long enough that the bottles weren’t ice cold anymore, but that wasn’t a bad thing since he planned to chug half of his. He brought them back to the bedroom, sat down beside Carlos on the bed, and nudged his arm with one bottle. “Here. Don’t spill it on my sheets.”

Carlos sat up, scooted back to lean on the headboard and took the beer. “Thanks.”

“Get the taste out of your mouth,” Nate suggested. He raised his bottle and poured the amber life-giving fluid down his throat. “Ahhhhhh.”

“I like your taste,” Carlos muttered, but after a sip he added, “Not as much as this, though.”

“Totally.” Nate swung his feet up and moved to sit shoulder to shoulder with Carlos. They drank in silence for a while. Nate slid over enough to press his thigh along Carlos’s, and Carlos didn’t look at him, but he didn’t move away either. When Nate’s bottle was empty, he lifted it to peer at his lamp through the base. “We need more beer.”