Make Me Soar (29 page)

“Yes, Sir.” Dorian was in no mood for Alan’s humor. Nearly a week without coming was making him feel cranky enough, and the prospect of giving Alan a blow job was not improving his mood.

“Aw, poor baby needs to come.” That grin widened. “Too bad.” He flung back the duvet to reveal his rigid shaft, his hand tight around its base. “But I see no reason not to make use of that talented mouth of yours.” He winked. “One of the perks of being a Dom, having your submissive suck you off first thing in the morning.” He stretched out his hand and curled it around Dorian’s neck, guiding him toward that waiting rigid column of flesh.

Dorian got onto all fours and licked the head of his dick, making Alan groan. Then he gasped when Alan grasped him by the hair and held him steady while he pushed between his lips. Dorian moaned around his mouthful of hot, bare cock.

“This is not going to be gentle.”

That was all the warning he got before Alan began fucking his mouth, hips rocking up off the mattress, slowly at first but then with increasing speed.

Dorian relaxed his throat and took him deeper, aware of the precome leaking from his own dick onto the sheet beneath him. He shoved aside his desire to come and focused on pleasing his Dom. He welcomed the feel of Alan’s hands, both now on his head, pushing him lower onto that gorgeous thick cock.

Fuck, he tastes good
. Dorian felt the blunt head at the back of his throat, and Alan’s low growl of satisfaction made his heart soar. He pulled free and worked the shaft while he sucked the head, flicking the ridge with his tongue.

Alan grabbed him around the waist and tugged him until he was straddling Alan’s chest, facing his dick. Dorian groaned when Alan stroked his leaking cock.

“Focus, boy.”

“Yes, Sir,” he managed to gasp out before Alan bent his legs and pushed upward, his cock demanding attention. Dorian tried to ignore the tingling in his balls as Alan licked them, tracing a line down to the tip of his wet-tipped dick.

“I spy precome.” Alan’s tone was positively gleeful. “And I know just what to do with it.”

Dorian groaned when Alan’s fingers brushed over the head of his cock, and then a single finger pushed slowly into his arse.
Fuck
. He took deep breaths, fighting the urge to come.

“Dorian.” The commanding tone forced him back to his task. Dorian went down on that long dick, working it with his mouth and tongue, fingers tight around the base. Alan’s low moans poured out of him, and his heavy cock seemed to thicken in Dorian’s mouth.

The quicker he comes, the faster this torture ends too
.

That thought got him going.

Dorian poured his heart and soul into the blow job, focused on pulling every ounce of pleasure out of Alan that he possibly could. The feel of Alan’s finger stroking in and out of his channel sent him perilously close to the edge, and he almost wept with relief when Alan pulled free of his body to grab on to Dorian’s thighs.

“Coming, boy.” Alan’s voice was tight, his fingers digging into the flesh.

Dorian gave one good, hard suck at the head of Alan’s dick, and it was all over. Alan erupted into his mouth, come hitting his tongue and the back of his throat, hot and thick. Alan arched up off the bed with a harsh cry, his legs shaking while his cock pumped out its last drops. Dorian took it all, licking the semihard shaft clean, Alan sagging into the mattress, body jolted by minishocks.

“Come here.”

Dorian turned around to face Alan, still on all fours above him. Alan cupped the back of his head and pulled him down into a kiss, licking the last of his come from Dorian’s lips. He broke the kiss and smiled up at Dorian.

“Now
that’s
what I call a good start to the day.” His gaze drifted to between Dorian’s thighs, where his dick was pointing toward Alan, hard as stone. Alan arched his eyebrows. “When you’ve showered, you’ll need to change the sheets.
Someone
made a mess.” He chuckled and gave Dorian one last kiss on the lips before sliding from beneath him to get out of bed. He left the room, humming cheerfully.

Dorian collapsed onto the bed with a long sigh, conscious of his aching cock pressing against the mattress. Damn, the man was a sadist.

Alan stuck his head around the bedroom door. “And when I get out of the shower, I expect to see that cock cage back in place.” That gleeful smile was back. “I’ll go and put the coffee on first. I think you might need a bit more time this morning.” He disappeared once more, whistling happily.

Dorian rolled onto his back and stared at his dick that was sticking straight up.

God, please make Alan let me come soon?

He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

J
USTIN
STARED
at the health adviser, eyes wide, his face ashen. “Positive?”

His hands clenched, and on impulse Dorian reached across and took hold of one, holding it tight. Justin’s palm was clammy.

The young man seated in front of them nodded, his expression calm. “I know you won’t take in everything that I’m telling you right now, but the main thing you need to remember is that it’s not a death sentence, not these days. And it shouldn’t have that great an impact on your life.”

Justin swallowed and glanced at Dorian. “That’s what you were saying yesterday.” He laced his fingers through Dorian’s.

The adviser gave Dorian a brief smile of approval before returning his attention to Justin. “Then you’re lucky to have such a sensible friend.” He referred to the results in his hand. “Your CD4 count is 500.”

“Your CD4 count tells them how strong your immune system is,” Dorian interjected. “And 500 isn’t bad. Isn’t that right?” He gazed at the adviser—Keith, according to his name badge—and looked for confirmation.

Keith nodded. “Generally, we recommend that you don’t start on HIV medication unless your CD4 count is 350 or lower.”

Justin’s wide-eyed stare was back. “I don’t need to start medication right away?”

Keith shook his head. “Your viral load is 30,000. That means there are 30,000 copies of HIV in one cubic milliliter of blood. Viral load is measured in the thousands. For example, a viral load of anything over 100,000 is high. The lower your viral load, the better. The aim of the medication would be to get it down to about fifty. That’s what we call ‘undetectable,’ although that term can be confusing. It means HIV is still present but that the computer can’t detect the viral load if it’s less than fifty.” He smiled reassuringly at Justin. “Like I said, it’s all a bit much to take in right now, yeah?”

Justin nodded. “Just a bit.” He seemed in a daze.

Keith scribbled something on a sheet of paper, folded it, placed it in an envelope, and handed it to Justin. “This is a letter of referral to take to the George House Trust. The address is on the envelope. They do a lot of great work with people who are HIV positive. Our time here is limited, unfortunately, but they will be able to give you all the support and advice you need. You’ll still need to be tested here regularly, every three to six months, to monitor your levels. You never know. It could be months or even years before you’ll need to start taking medication.”

“Really?” Dorian felt Justin’s tight grip on his hand relax slightly.

Keith nodded. “Justin, nowadays, people living with HIV are able to live long, healthy lives.”

Justin gazed at their joined hands for a moment and then let out a long push of breath. “Can I go now?” He stood up, pulling free of Dorian, who rose to his feet with him.

Keith copied his action. “Certainly. I recommend you make an appointment with George House Trust as soon as possible, however.” He extended his hand toward Justin. “And remember, they are there to help you.”

Justin shook the proffered hand. “Thank you.” The hitch in his breathing told Dorian plenty. He needed to get Justin somewhere quiet where they could talk.

Keith handed Dorian his results. “Don’t forget these.”

Dorian took them with a brief smile. “Thank you, Keith. I’ll make sure Justin follows your advice.” His own relief at being negative was tempered by the realization that he’d need another test in six months to be completely sure he was safe. Then he pushed aside such thoughts. Justin was more important right then.

He bade Keith good-bye and led Justin from the small consulting room into the main area of the clinic. Justin seemed to be functioning on autopilot. Once they were outside in the cold, fresh air, Justin shivered and pulled his long black coat tightly around him.

“I-I need a drink. And I
don’t
mean coffee.”

Dorian could understand that. “There’s a pub on the corner. How about we go there?”

Justin nodded instantly. They walked along the pavement in silence, Dorian with his hands thrust into his jacket pockets to keep them out of the cold wind. Justin appeared lost in his own thoughts. Dorian wasn’t about to engage him in conversation. That could wait.

It wasn’t long before they reached the pub and stepped into its warm interior. Dorian spied a table in the corner, away from the bar, and gestured to it. “Go and sit down.” He took a closer look at Justin’s glazed expression. “I’ll get you a brandy.”

Justin murmured in agreement and went to sit down. Dorian walked over to the bar and ordered the brandy and a Coke for himself. Justin glanced up at him when he set the glasses down on their table.

“Thanks.”

His voice shook. Dorian noted his trembling hand as he reached for the brandy.

Justin took a mouthful of brandy and grimaced. “How can people drink this stuff?”

Dorian chuckled. “That’s why it’s good for shock—the taste is so awful, you forget what you were worrying about.”

Justin stared at him for a moment and then exhaled. He shook his head. “Well, it’s not like I wasn’t expecting it, right?”

Dorian said nothing. He couldn’t help thinking that expecting it was one thing—having it confirmed was something else entirely.

Justin took another cautious sip. “I mean, once I’d got past that initial ‘
Oh my fucking God, I’ve got AIDS
’ moment.”

“You don’t have AIDS,” Dorian interrupted. “You’re HIV-positive. There’s a difference, a
huge
difference.”

He kept his voice steady, his gaze focused on Justin. To his relief, Justin nodded.

“So, should I be telling anyone?”

Dorian drank some of his Coke. “The only person who needs to know right now is your doctor. If you become involved with someone, then obviously he needs to know too.”

He snorted. “You mean, unlike that fucking bastard who didn’t inform
me
?”

Dorian sighed. “I know you’re angry, and trust me, that’s perfectly normal. But you need to focus on the way ahead, like making that appointment.”

Justin put down his glass, leaned against the wall behind his chair, and closed his eyes. “I know, I know.”

“Keith was right, you know. You can have a normal life expectancy. These days people living with HIV can start a family, even have negative kids.”

Justin opened his eyes. “How do you know all this?”

Dorian smiled. “It’s amazing what you can learn in a couple of hours on the Internet.” When Justin stared at him, eyes shining, Dorian felt the blush that burned his cheeks. “So I did some research, so what?”

A slow smile blossomed on Justin’s face. “Yeah, but you did it just for me. Thanks, Dor.”

Dorian shook his head. “Do you know, you’re the only person ever to call me that.” Not that he minded right then. It made him feel good that Justin felt comfortable enough to use it again.

“We
are
going to stay in touch, right?” Justin swallowed.

Dorian lifted his eyebrows. “Is that a serious question? Of course we’re going to stay in touch. And listen. Anytime you want to rant at someone, you call me. If you feel down or you want to chat, hell, even if you want to go out one night and get paralytic….” He paused, running his finger around the rim of his glass. “Although I’m not sure how much Alan would like that idea.” Alcohol hadn’t been discussed.

Justin smirked. “Why, does he keep you on a leash?” His remark was the first sign that Justin’s tenseness was beginning to dissipate.

Dorian laughed. “Not exactly.”

But the image was there in his head, and just like that, his dick got in on the act. He winced.
How much longer will I have to wear this bloody thing?
Dorian had never worn a cock cage for this length of time, and it was starting to piss him off. He guessed Alan wanted him to have more self-control, but he was growing tired of the constant mental battle. He could admit to himself that Alan’s methods were working—he only had to look at how he’d changed and in such a short time frame to see that—but still, there was only so much he could take.

S
EVEN
FORTY
-
FIVE
on Saturday morning and Dorian was officially in hell.

The reason for his torment was lying curled around his back, asleep, his thick cock sliding in between Dorian’s arse cheeks. Dorian had awoken, dick aching it was so fucking hard, to find Alan thus, apparently dreaming.