Stuff My Stocking: M-M Romance Stories that are Nice and Naughty (35 page)

“Yes,” the young elf breathed. “Yes.”

“Then yes,” Green murmured, taking his breath and the softness of his lips and the sweetness of his tongue to the inside of the elf’s arm, where he teased the tender tender flesh there. “But I think we should exchange names first, right?”

“Cocklebur.”

Green grinned. It suited him—prickly, wicked, and apparently used to getting himself into scrapes. “Green,” he murmured, moving on his knees so his lips were on the elf’s bicep, and then his shoulder. The cheeky little bastard went in for a kiss, but Green dodged it, and continued to tease with his lips and his tongue along the top of the elf’s shoulders. He pushed aside the tangled dark hair and traced a path to the other shoulder, down the other arm. He stop and suckled on that tender, sensitive crook of inner arm, and then breathed down the forearm, to the wrist. The arm was mostly healed, just from Green’s genuinely given touch and free desire, but Green made sure all of the painful blisters and the bloody divots in Cocklebur’s wrists were gone and healed before he put the boy’s palm to his mouth. (Century or not, he was still a boy.)

Very carefully, using the scrape of teeth and the tickle of tongue, the press of lips and the suckling of all three, he planted a deliberate kiss in the center of the long-fingered sidhe palm.

Cocklebur let out a whine of arousal that cut through the crash of the surf, and Green grinned at him from there on his knees.

“Stand up,” he commanded. The elf did, revealing a sidhe’s long, rangy body, with narrow hips, shoulders, and long torso, clothed only in tattered cotton breeches. His erection (fully sized, although the elf seemed a little short for most sidhe) fell heavily forward, pushing the fabric outward, and Green played with it for a moment, making it bob and jump.

Cocklebur whined again, pushing against that teasing, one-fingered touch until Green’s throaty chuckles were close enough to warm the fabric, and the elf threw his hips forward in desperation.

“Thought you weren’t a boy,” Green chided. “Men have more control.”

“Just wanted some sport…” Cocklebur admitted painfully, and Green remembered himself. Sometimes touch was as important as air to a sidhe, and sometimes more so. It had apparently been that way for this elf on this night, to lead him to the dire straits that Green and Adrian had discovered on this lonely beach in the moonlight.

With no further teasing, he pulled the trousers down from the young man’s white-pale flesh, opened his mouth, and engulfed that taut, burgeoning cock all the way to the root.

“Goddess… oh Goddess…” Cocklebur all-but sobbed above him. Fingers clenched in Green’s queued hair, the bite of pain making Green’s own arousal sweet. Green pulled back, and then engulfed that sweet flesh again, and again, and again, until Cocklebur forgot himself, pumping satisfyingly into Green’s mouth without regard for Green’s own pleasure.

Green liked it when those he healed could do that. Sometimes the surest way of knowing if someone’s heart was healed was knowing that they felt safe to be selfish. Cocklebur was certainly that, clenching Green’s hair, seeking his own pleasure with grunts and wordless cries. Green cupped his hairless balls and squeezed gently, and Cocklebur gave a shout that Adrian could probably hear, back at their windowless flat, and then, as Green moved two spit-slickened fingers to his tender entrance, he all but screamed into the pre-dawn fog.

His come, when it came was hot and thin, and Green swallowed most of it. He waited until Cocklebur was bent double, clutching Green’s head to his groin and sobbing, before rising to his feet, dripping with cold surf, and claiming a thin, only slightly pouty mouth in a kiss and letting the elf taste what he had spent inside Green.

The kiss deepened, and lingered, and Cocklebur pulled back and took a lap at the corner of Green’s mouth.

“It’s clean,” he breathed. “No cold-iron bitterness. No pain.”

A healing elf of body and spirit—it was Green’s best gift. The only person he couldn’t seem to heal completely, he thought sadly, was Adrian. He did not know that the only person who could do that had yet to be born.

“All healed,” Green said at this moment. “All better.”

The young elf smiled slyly. “Would you like some recompense, guvnor?”

Green frowned. Goddess, he hated the old-country ways. But Cocklebur was showing appreciation, and affection, and it was something he probably wouldn’t have done just minutes before, when only his flesh was healed.

Green took the offer for what it was: gratitude and kindness. He put Cocklebur’s hand against his own trousers and pushed. Cocklebur’s eyes got big and round, and Green bent his head and whispered, “You want this? You want me inside you, pounding you until you scream come?”

Green caught the younger elf when his knees went weak. He had a knack for knowing, sometimes, what a partner would want, what would fill the empty spaces inside a young man or woman’s soul.

“Oh Goddess,” Cocklebur groaned. “Yes…please yes…please…”

They were wet, and they were cold, but that little plea had two pleases and two yeses, and Green searched the coastline for a stand of trees, a hidden patch of damp grass, because Green would not deny that begging for the world.

***

Cory’s sleeping, burgeoning body squirmed against Green as the dream ‘came’ to its logical and truthful conclusion. He smiled a little as he finished the work he’d been doing on his laptop as she’d slept and dreamed his memories. He’d been scenting her arousal for a good fifteen minutes. When she woke up from her nap, she would be… well, in a better mood, and wasn’t that the truth.

“Mmmm…” she groaned against him, the unbridled decadence of the sound making him hard. He shut his laptop and turned as she was sitting up and wiping her eyes. She grinned at him sleepily, and, as usual, the first thing she said caught her off guard.

“Awesome dream, beloved—but I don’t think I’m going to get into Cocklebur’s good graces that way. Don’t you think I have enough on my plate?”

Green grinned back. “You’ll think of some way to do it besides that, I’ll grant you. In the meantime…” His hands, long and skillful, swept down under her arms and to her waist. Yes, it was bigger, but one of the children she was carrying was his, and that was about the sexiest flesh he’d ever felt.

“In the meantime, what?” she batted her eyes at him, and he obliged her.

Leaning in, he whispered into her ear, “You want me inside you, pounding until you scream come?”

“Oh, Goddess yes,” she breathed, and he swept her up into his arms and took her to his warm, dry room, to oblige.

THE END

Copyright ©2010
Amy Lane

Also from Amy Lane:

Vulnerable

Wounded

Bound

Rampant

Litha's Constant Whim

Guarding the Vampire's Ghost

Green's Hill
series

Email:
[email protected]

Website:
www.greenshill.com

THE GIFT by Angela Benedetti

Dear Santa,

I know I haven't been as good as I could be, but I'm really trying my best. ^_^ There's just one (or two) things I really want this year and I hope you can find it in your bag of goodies.

I would love to have my very own life-size...um..."action figure" with fully articulated parts. Please see attached photo for an example.

I would take very good care of it and love it so much that one day it might become a real boy - a la Pinocchio or something. :P

Thank you Santa and Merry Christmas! I'll leave you lots of yummy cookies for when you come.

P.S. I would prefer a darker haired/green eyed model (or two). Thanks again!

{PHOTO INSERT:  An angelic looking young man with white blonde hair and pale blue eyes lies naked in a very large cardboard box. He is surrounded by styrofoam packing peanuts and has seams at his wrists, shoulders and hips as if it he is an assembled doll.}

***************************

Austin stepped off the slidewalk, palmed open the door to his unit and stepped inside, out of the community space and into his own private space where he didn't have to pretend to be perfectly happy and well-adjusted anymore.  He'd just spent the prescribed two hours at yet another horribly embarassing Mixer Social, trying to avoid one man in a small group of twenty-three.  The Fountain Four Neighborhood Social Center was spacious, but the Fiveday Mixer Social was for unattached men in the neighborhood who tended toward other men, and there just weren't that many of them.

He'd hardly had time to sigh out his relief at having
that
over with, and start dreading the next week's Social, when his door buzzed.  A box appeared through the delivery panel and slid to a stop on the smooth tile floor.

A really big box.  Fairly huge, actually, like the size of a piece of furniture, taking up most of the width in his tiny entry hall.  Austin was sure he hadn't ordered anything anywhere near that size recently -- not in a year or more, at least.

He checked the delivery stamp, sure it must be a mistake, but that was his name and his unit code.  It wasn't a mistake, or if it was it'd been made somewhere deeper in the system than a delivery glitch.

Austin scooted around to the other side of the box -- the crate, because it was
really
big -- and layed his palm on the access patch.  He heard a rrrrrip-click and the lid separated from the sides, then swung upward.

The inside cavity was filled with fluff-foam packing bits.  Austin pushed his hands in and dug down, hunting blindly for whatever might be buried deeper in.  More bits, more bits...

...he jerked back with a yelp and smacked into the wall, his eyes wide with shock.

He'd touched something that felt like an arm -- a
dead
arm, a chunk of a cadaver.  Smooth skin with some give to it, what felt like perfectly relaxed muscle underneath, a scattering of soft hairs, and it'd been cool, the same late-evening temperature he'd just walked through on his way home.

That couldn't be right.  If someone was dead, whether of sickness or accident or murder, Austin couldn't imagine why anyone would send him the corpse in a crate.

He stared into the box at the packing bits for a minute, then very slowly reached out with one hand and started brushing them away, a few at a time, so he wouldn't touch anything he didn't want to touch, at least not accidentally.

Strands of wispy blond hair appeared, then a smooth forehead, and Austin swallowed hard.

All right, he thought, straighten up.  It can't possibly be a dead body.  Even assuming anyone
would
send you a cadaver, they don't look like that.  Dead bodies look all blotchy and shiny.  This one looks more like it's asleep.  He.  It's male -- it looks like
he's
asleep.

Which was another impossible idea.  Why would some strange man have himself packed into a box and sent to Austin, asleep or not?

"This is stupid," he muttered to himself.  "Just do it."

Austin leaned over and jammed his hands down into the box, grabbed the guy under the arms and heaved.

A limp -- and naked, don't forget the naked part -- body came surging up into Austin's arms, and if the crate hadn't been pretty sturdy, the whole thing, box and guy and Austin himself, would've overturned and crashed to the floor.  As it was, Austin ended up with both arms wrapped around the man's naked chest.

It was still cool.  There was no movement, neither the slow rhythm of breathing or the faster tempo of a heartbeat.

It almost seemed....

Austin propped the guy's shoulders against his own chest to free up one hand, and sent it searching down first one arm, then the other.  There, the left hand had a smooth, twisted cord around it, with an info tag dangling.  He squeezed the tag, and a mellow, androgynous voice said, "Congratulations on your acquisition of a first quality BioServ Synthetic Companion, model 218C-S.  Please view the introduction before attempting activation."

Synthetic Companion.  Austin nearly fainted in relief; it was a sex doll.  A really
good
sex doll -- it'd probably cost more than Austin earned in several years -- but it wasn't an actual dead body and that was the important thing.

Of course it wasn't a dead body.  Austin heaved out a sigh and gave a quick, reflexive glance around, as though there might be someone lurking in his unit waiting to laugh at how ridiculous he'd been.

Well, yes, once he knew the answer, his irrational imaginings did seem pretty stupid.

The doll was as heavy as a grown man would've been, and Austin's arms were getting tired.  One more good heave and he had the thing out of the box and layed down on the floor...

...and for the second time that night, he yelped and jerked backward into the wall.

The doll, it's face -- it looked exactly like Shay.  The same bright green eyes, with clear, light brown skin and honey-blond hair.  Broad shoulders, nimble-looking hands, and it looked to be about the right height, although it was hard to tell with the doll lying down.

Five minutes of trying to work out exactly who would send Austin a Synthetic Companion with the face of the man he'd been making a fool of himself over for months got him nothing but a headache.  He took the info tag, left the doll on the floor, and went over to the media unit.

The tag was just the usual bundle of files about operation and maintenance.  He scanned until he found the vid about the on switch, then stashed the rest to watch later if he needed to.  There was also a clicker for a continuously updated offering of upgrades and accessories.  Just looking at some of them made Austin wince and imagine he could hear his credit balance howling in pain; he'd stick with the standard model.

That thought made him lean back against the lounge cushions and consider.

Should I keep it? he wondered.  What if it's a joke?  Someone trying to embarass me?  Not that I need much help, the way my brain turns inside-out whenever I'm at Social and Shay's in the room....

It was ridiculously expensive for a joke, though.  He didn't know how much any of his friends or neighbors earned, of course; questions about employment or finances in a social context was horribly rude, and while Austin wasn't a stickler, he wasn't raised in a sewer, either.  Fountain Four was a comfortable but not a wealthy neighborhood, and he couldn't imagine anyone he knew being able to afford a Synthetic Companion for themself, or even as a serious gift, much less as a joke.

There was no name on the shipping stamp, but Austin tried querying the shipper anyway.  As he'd expected, it came back as an anonymous send.  The CS responder asked if he wanted to reject the shipment, or register a protest; Austin declined and closed the query.

Only one thing left.  Austin still felt kind of shy about activating the thing, even knowing that was ridiculous.  It wasn't a person -- it was a sophisticated thing, an appliance.  It didn't make any sense to feel shy or embarassed around it, any more than he'd feel ashamed to go naked in front of his cooker.

Fine.  Just do it, then.

He knelt down next to the not-really-a-naked-man in his entry and lifted the head, gently, with one hand.  With the other, he felt through the hair at the back of the skull until he came to a small, regular bump.  He pressed it, and the thing's eyes blinked open.

Even having expected it, Austin still startled enough that he almost dropped its head onto the floor.  It sat up and looked around; Austin scooted back a little and watched the thing working.

It looked human.

Well, of course it did; it was the most expensive human simulation current technology could product.  Not an android -- they weren't quite up to creating a purely synthetic human being yet, but as close as anyone could get coming from a robotics-and-AI direction.

The doll took a quick glance around, then sat up and turned to face Austin with a friendly smile.  "Hello.  You're Austin Green?"

Austin just stared for a second, not used to having things that looked like people talking to him, before he finally said, "Yes, that's me."

"Great!  I belong to you now, and I'm sure we'll have a lot of good times together.  My name is Shay."

Austin felt his throat clench, and he had to cough a couple of times.  Although once he thought about it, he wasn't sure why he was surprised; it
did
look exactly like the Shay he knew, after all.  That couldn't be a coincidence, so why
wouldn't
they -- whoever "they" were -- give it Shay's name?

"Ahh, good.  That's... that's fine."

The doll studied his face, then said, "You can change my name if you want to.  Just say 'Shay, I rename you' and the new name.  You can change it as many times as you want, until you find something you like."

"Umm, no, that's all right, it's fine."  Austin shook his head and stood up, trying to figure out what to do next.  The doll -- Shay, he needed to start thinking of it as Shay if he wasn't going to change the name, which wouldn't work because it'd still have Shay's face and calling something with Shay's face something else would be weirder than Austin wanted to deal with.  The situation was already weird and adding to it felt like a really bad idea.

Shay-the-doll stood up, and seeing it full-length, standing there in front of him, made Austin very much aware that it was naked.  Completely naked.

Next thing to do was get some clothes for the-- for Shay.  Austin slipped past the naked body standing in his entry and headed back toward his bedroom.  "Come on," he said.  "I'll find you something to wear.  My clothes should fit you well enough, I think, at least for now."

He heard Shay following him.  It walked as quietly as any barefoot human.  He'd half expected it to clunk along.  Machines were supposed to clunk.  Or whir or rumble, something like that.

Shay padded along quietly, his bare soles making a light, nearly inaudible scuffing sound against the smooth floor, so quiet that when he walked up behind Austin, who was digging in a wall bin for a pair of shorts, Austin had no idea he was that close until a pair of warm arms wrapped around him from behind, and a solid chest pressed up against his back.

"I appreciate the thought," said Shay, "but are you sure you want me to get dressed right now?  I'll just have to take it all off soon anyway."

Austin closed his eyes and leaned back into the embrace.  It felt wonderful -- strong and solid, the skin smooth but not plastic-smooth, just yielding enough with a firmness to suggest healthy muscle underneath.  It even smelled right, warm and a little musky.

He let go of the garments he'd been sorting through and wrapped his arms over the arms crossed at his waist.  He gave them a firm squeeze, then let go and rotated in Shay's arms--

--and found himself staring into bright green eyes that were unmistakeably
Shay's,
in Shay's face, with his mouth and chin and that one quirky eyebrow, and a sudden rush of shy/awkward/shame flooded Austin.  He looked away and pulled himself out of Shay's arms, taking five quick steps across the room.

"No.  I mean, yes -- find yourself something, shorts and a top, whatever you want, just get dressed.  Please.  Something you wouldn't mind sleeping in is fine, but....  Please."

He stood there against the wall, his forehead pressing against the cool surface, wishing he weren't such an idiot.  It was just a doll, a thing, a fancy robot.  It was ridiculous to be embarassed by it, or in front of it, but Austin couldn't help it.  He knew it wasn't really Shay, but his gut didn't believe it, and didn't care what his brain said.

And now the thing was going to be living with him.  Not living, but... whatever you wanted to call it.  It was his and would be in his unit with him, for however long he had it.

The thought was horrifying in a way.  Bad enough he had to struggle with his awkwardness at Fiveday Social every week; that was only for two hours.  This thing that was an exact copy of Shay, that twisted his guts and his tongue in exactly the same way, was going to be in his home, all the time.

Austin stifled a groan and rubbed his forehead with his palm.  What now?  Sending it back would be more complicated now, and he'd have to justify the rejection after having specifically accepted the delivery and passed by the opportunity to protest.  He could sell it, but for something as expensive as a Synthetic Companion, that'd take time.  And since he didn't know who'd sent it to him or why, he had no idea how that person would react to his immediately getting rid of it.  What if it was a friend?  Someone who'd be hurt or angry if he sold their gift?

Well, it'd have to be a friend, wouldn't it?  Someone who barely knew your name didn't spend that much on a gift.  Maybe someone who knew he was stuck on Shay and thought he'd enjoy having a doll that looked like him?  Austin was sure whoever'd sent the thing had meant well, and thought they were helping him out, doing him a favor.  He didn't feel very grateful, though, right at that point.