Authors: Kim Fielding
The Pillar (8 page)
When Boro eased him onto his side again, Faris was pliant yet tingly with need. “I’d like to do that to you,” Faris whispered.
“Next time. Right now I want…. Can we kiss some more?” Boro snuffled at the crook of Faris’s neck, just over the pulse point. “I’ve never kissed a man before. It’s nice.”
That raised several questions, but Faris chose not to pursue them right now. Kissing was better than interrogating. He laced his fingers through Boro’s soft hair, drew him close, and pressed their lips together. He liked the slickness of Boro’s tongue against his, the sharp edges of Boro’s teeth, the smooth warmth of Boro’s body, and the blunt firmness of Boro’s cock poking against his hip. Without breaking the kiss, they shifted their bodies slightly. Boro’s hands roamed over Faris’s back, while Faris kept his palms resolutely on Boro’s ass.
They writhed against each other, skin going slick with sweat and precome.
Faris would have been perfectly content to continue on like that, his body feeling lighter and lighter as the kisses stole his air away. But Boro broke away with a gasp. “Can we…. Faris, I want you to fuck me. Please.”
Although Faris hadn’t expected the request, he certainly welcomed it. But he wasn’t so far gone as to forget Boro was also his patient. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. Or… even if it hurts a little, that’s all right. It’s different if it’s you.” He squeezed his hand between them to touch Faris’s cock for the first time. He gave a few firm, slow strokes; Faris bucked into his grip with a moan. Those calluses against him were exactly, precisely perfect.
“Please?” Boro said, knowing Faris was in no condition to deny him anything.
“Yes.”
After two more quick strokes, Boro let go. He hurried onto all fours and dropped his shoulders to the bed, leaving his ass raised high. “All right,” he said. “Go ahead.”
Faris wished he’d left a lantern lit. He sat up and kissed Boro’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have some oil that will work nicely.” And probably soil the bedclothes again. The laundress was going to hate him.
“Oil?” Boro sounded puzzled. “For what?”
Faris had stood, but now he sat again and rested a hand on Boro’s lower back. “To ease my way in. Is this… new to you?”
Boro was silent for a long moment. “No. But there wasn’t any…. You won’t just spit?”
That made Faris wince. He’d tried saliva as a lubricant when masturbating, licking his finger before inserting it into himself, but it had hurt. He couldn’t imagine trying to stuff something as big as an erect penis through tight muscles with only saliva to slick things up. “Oil’s better,” he said. He didn’t even have to feel around too much in the darkness, because he kept a small vial not far from the bed.
He brought the oil back with him and drizzled a little on his finger. Boro tensed slightly when Faris stroked the slippery finger between his cheeks.
“Boro? I think you’ll be more comfortable on your side. Less strain on your wounds.”
“Oh. All right.” Boro allowed Faris to roll him over. At Faris’s gentle urging, Boro bent his top leg, placing his sole flat against the mattress.
“Perfect.” Faris moved in closer. He kissed the nape of Boro’s neck, where the marks from the collar could still be felt. The skin was so tender there, so vulnerable—such a contrast to the wide shoulders and broad back. Boro made soft noises, and this time he didn’t go tense when Faris ventured a finger against the even more sensitive skin behind his balls.
“Faris,” Boro rasped. “That’s— Oh.” He gasped when the slick digit slipped inside him.
“It hurts?” Faris asked him with concern.
“Good God, no.”
Faris spent a few minutes gently moving his finger, feeling the muscles gradually loosen. He moved slightly away to apply more oil to his fingers, smiling at Boro’s grumbled complaint. Boro took two fingers easily. But when Faris crooked those fingers just
so
, Boro jerked and cried out.
Faris froze. “It hurts?” he asked again.
“Don’t… don’t stop. What did you— More of that!”
Although he grinned at Boro’s incoherent demands and desperate squirming, Faris couldn’t help but worry a little. Whoever had fucked Boro in the past, the man—or men—certainly hadn’t seemed to care about Boro’s pleasure. Even the casual partners Faris had coupled with in Tuchenik had made at least some effort to ensure the enjoyment was mutual, whether they were on the giving or receiving end.
Now wasn’t the time for pondering, however. Boro was breathing harshly and writhing against Faris’s fingers, and Faris was fairly positive that if he didn’t sink into that hot, grasping channel very soon his head was going to explode—and there was no herbal remedy for that. So he withdrew his fingers from Boro, this time eliciting an even louder protest. He slicked some oil over his iron-hard cock. And then, more slowly than either of them would have liked, he pressed the head of his cock deep inside.
“Holy mother of God,” Boro whispered. And then he repeated it even more hoarsely: “Holy mother of God.”
Faris couldn’t speak at all. In fact, he almost forgot how to breathe. He’d been inside men before—not often, but a few times—but never had it felt so good. Never before had he wanted to draw things out, to taste salty skin and suck lightly on an earlobe, to press his lips against a pounding pulse.
“I’m going to move,” he warned Boro.
“Yes. M-move. God, please move.”
Faris did. The angle was a little awkward in this position, but he didn’t care. He just tried to keep his movements steady, tried to keep from biting through his lip. He mustered enough coordination to reach around and grasp Boro’s damp cock, and that really was it for both of them: Boro let out a steady stream of expletives and groans as he rocked his hips back and forth. Faris matched his rhythm and muffled his own cries against Boro’s shoulder.
Boro came first. He shuddered, he made Faris’s hand slick with his hot semen, and his inner muscles clenched almost hard enough to hurt. He was still whimpering with the aftershocks when Faris fell apart, like a stone falling off a cliff and shattering to dust, and every particle of that dust reveling in its freedom.
They separated quite slowly and rearranged themselves. Somehow they ended up with Faris half-draped over Boro’s larger frame and cradled in one of Boro’s arms. They fit together as naturally as if they’d been sleeping together for years.
“Your shoulder is going to be sore,” Faris pointed out through a yawn.
“I don’t care. I am incapable of feeling anything but good right now.” Boro kissed the top of Faris’s head, then rumpled his curls. “I wish I could tell you how much…. Well, that was very good.
You
were very good. Thank you.”
Faris chuckled. “It wasn’t exactly a selfless act.”
“I didn’t think it would feel so… I need to rest. But in the morning, you won’t have changed your mind, will you? You won’t want me gone?”
“I won’t,” Faris said. No lie.
But when dawn broke and Faris woke again, Boro was lying on his stomach, one arm flung over his head and the other tucked under his body. The blankets had been scrunched down a little already, making Faris shiver, yet he slowly drew them back even farther so as to reveal more of Boro’s body. Enough daylight stole in through the shutters’ cracks and gaps for Faris to get a good look at him, and for the first time, Faris truly gazed on Boro with the eyes of a lover rather than those of a healer.
The stripes on the pale skin were still red and vivid. A few were scabbed. Here and there, a small spot of mottled yellowish green revealed a lingering bruise. Faris turned his head this way and that, studying the marks as if they were a map of some distant land—a land he had visited in his dreams. He’d always been ashamed of his scars. They were like brands, visible and tangible reminders of what he was. But as he gazed at Boro, he realized that scars might also be badges of honor. Scars might say to the world,
Look what was done to me. And yet I am strong—I survived.
Faris didn’t yet feel that strength within himself, but someday he might.
“You can touch too.” Boro’s voice was thick with sleep yet tinged with amusement.
“We didn’t clean up last night. We’re a mess.”
Boro rolled over, revealing a wide smile and an impressive erection. “If I tell you I’m weak and sore, will you bathe me?”
Faris frowned. “
Are
you sore?”
“No. But you can still bathe me.”
Giving in to temptation, Faris soothed a palm over the point of Boro’s hip. “I know a place high in the hills, far from any villages, where a stream widens out to form a sort of pool. It’s nice on a hot day. Next summer, we can—” He stopped so suddenly he almost bit his tongue. Boro would likely be long gone by summer. “I’ll go warm some water.”
He stood, but Boro grabbed his arm to keep him from going. “The bath can wait. I was only joking.”
“Wait for what?”
Boro gave his own groin a significant look, then looked back at Faris, eyebrow cocked suggestively. “For that?”
Faris’s previous lovers had never been playful. He found himself grinning and climbing back onto the mattress. On a whim, he straddled Boro’s body and sucked at one tempting nipple, making Boro gasp and arch his back. “Or that,” Boro said. “I can wait for that too.”
Who knew you could laugh and be incredibly aroused at the same time? After a while, Faris turned his attention to the other nipple. He liked the taste of Boro’s skin: salt, plus a hint of olive oil and lavender from the soap. He liked pressing his ear to Boro’s chest and listening to his heartbeat. He liked slowly moving his head down Boro’s torso, allowing his overlong curls to brush against Boro’s belly, learning that his lover was delightfully ticklish. But even more, he liked licking the damp head of Boro’s cock before allowing the rigid flesh to slip between his lips.
Boro was generously endowed. Faris couldn’t take him all in, but he wrapped his hand around the base and managed the rest in his mouth. Within a very short time, Boro was tugging gently at Faris’s hair and bucking up slightly with his hips. The smell of him was intoxicating, especially since part of that scent was Faris’s own spend from the night before.
“F-Far— Oh, God! I’m not going to…. G-God!”
Faris looked up and watched Boro toss his head from side to side on the pillow. Boro’s eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open, his chest heaving with jagged breaths. He was beautiful. Although Faris’s own cock remained untouched, he wondered if he could climax from this alone: all his senses flooded by his lover.
As Faris continued to bob his head and move his hand, Boro went suddenly very still. He gasped, long and low, almost like a sob. Faris’s mouth flooded with Boro’s salty, slightly garlicky spend. Faris swallowed as much as he could, but some trickled from the corner of his lips. Before he could lick it away, Boro pulled him upward and gave him a bone-shakingly deep kiss.
Faris let himself collapse along the length of Boro’s body, but he couldn’t help rocking his hips when Boro began to massage his ass. “’S nice,” he murmured into Boro’s neck.
“It’d be nicer if you were inside me.”
Faris brought his head up in surprise. “Really? You want that?”
“After what you did to me last night, I’m going to want that all the time.”
“But you finished already.”
“I am
not
finished.” Boro gave him another lingering kiss and an extra-enthusiastic grope. “You feel good inside me, Faris. It feels… right.”
It felt pretty good to Faris too. Without removing himself from Boro’s body, he reached for the bottle of oil. “Were you comfortable on your side last night?”
“Yes. But… this time I’d like to watch you.”
“That might put more strain on your—”
“I promise I’ll let you know if you’re about to break me.” Boro grinned, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Let me see your face, please. So I really know it’s you.”
This time, Faris kissed him. None of his previous sex partners had cared who they were fucking. Most didn’t even know his name.
After a few moments of thought—short and distracted moments, because Boro had squeezed his hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Faris’s cock—Faris decided on a position that might not strain Boro too much. He extricated himself regretfully from Boro’s grip, then arranged him sideways on the mattress with the pillow under his butt and with his legs hanging over the edge. Faris spread Boro’s knees and knelt between them. He began to apply oil with his fingers, but when he noticed that Boro was erect again, he couldn’t resist mouthing his heavy balls and nursing the slick crown of his cock.
He could have lost himself in the tasks of sucking on Boro and pumping his fingers, but Boro tugged at a lock of his hair. “Don’t forget what you were doing, dusho,” Boro said.
Dusho.
My soul
. Faris blushed with pleasure as he stood. Nobody had ever used an endearment on him before. Before he got distracted entirely and maybe even let escape the tears that prickled at his eyes, he stood and swiped a little more oil on himself.
He handled Boro carefully. He placed Boro’s long legs on his own shoulders. “All right so far?”
“No. You’re still too far away. I’m not so fragile, Faris.”
No, there was nothing fragile about Boro at all. As Boro watched avidly, Faris slowly breached his slicked ring of muscle. They groaned in unison when Faris was fully seated.
“And I thought you were beautiful before,” Boro said, his eyes shining. “But now you’re…. For the love of God, man,
move
!”