Page 41 of Enlightened
For a long moment, Murdo stood there, undecided. Then he gave a sigh. “Fine,” he said, climbing onto the bed, his left knee brushing David’s chest as he got himself into the suggested position.
And ah, but he was a fine specimen, with those firm buttocks and muscular, meaty thighs. Christ above, what a sight.
David set the bottle of oil down at his hip and skimmed his hands up the backs of Murdo’s thighs, drawing a faint moan from the other man. Murdo’s skin was still sleep warm and dusted with hair that rasped pleasurably against David’s fingertips. Mouth dry with anticipation, he circled his palms over the firm globes of Murdo’s arse, urging his hips a little higher to reveal the entrance to his body. Murdo shifted, allowing it, but the sound that fell from his lips as he did so was as much protest as pleasure.
Such a vulnerable position, this. For anyone, but for Murdo especially, who’d been unable to allow it for so very long. Now that he was letting David see him like this, touch him like this, David had to make it pleasurable for him. Had to make Murdo’s gesture of trust worthwhile.
He tugged gently at Murdo’s hips, shifting his own body till he was close enough to lay a kiss upon his lover. He didn’t do it yet, though, merely huffed a hot breath into the tender groove between his buttocks, making Murdo shiver and moan, still with that note of uneasy protest in his voice.
Patience, then. He would begin somewhere less provocative.
David dipped his head lower, laying a trail of kisses from the tops of Murdo’s thighs to the lower curves of his buttocks then moving down to map the patch of taut flesh that led to his balls. He lavished attention there, loving the hoarse cry he finally drew from Murdo’s throat, and the deep groan that emerged when David suckled his ballocks. Neglecting his own iron-hard prick, he lavished attention on Murdo’s, squeezing his shaft with one hand while he mouthed the prickly purse of his scrotum, and soon enough every bit of Murdo’s awkwardness had fled. His head was down, hips tipping up higher, knees splaying a little more as he spilled cries of muffled pleasure into the bedsheets
Only then did David allow the kiss to become more intimate, drawing his tongue up again, all the way up this time to trace the outer edge of the crevice between Murdo’s buttocks. And this time, Murdo’s answering cry held no protest, only desperation for more, then gratitude—“God, yes, please!”—as David went deeper.
Murdo’s scent, earthy and male, was intoxicating. David held his lover open and lapped at the pinched edges of his hole, loosening and stimulating and downright worshipping. The near sobs of pleasure that guttered from the other man’s lips drove him on, the thought of bringing Murdo to his crisis like this consuming him. At last, though, he forced himself to draw back. Murdo was wide open now, open and ready.
“Christ,” Murdo whispered. “I need you to fuck me. Now.” He went to shift, to turn around, but David stopped him with firm hands.
“Not yet.”
David fumbled around for the bottle of oil, unstoppering it quickly and drizzling a thin, jewel-bright stream over Murdo’s hole. Setting the bottle aside, he gathered up the dripping oil in his fingers and began to probe the muscle he’d already loosened with kisses, until he was able to slide his finger inside. Murdo’s body gripped him, sucking him deeper, and both of them moaned. David’s cock was so hard it ached. Watching Murdo go from tight and embarrassed to loose and aroused, watching his own fingers effortlessly fuck in and out of Murdo’s body, then, even better, witnessing Murdo jerk and curse when David crooked his fingers and found the target he’d been seeking—it was enough that David was sure he could come without a single touch to his own cock. Just wringing a climax from Murdo would do it.
Another time. This time, Murdo wanted to be fucked.
“You’re ready now,” David said. “You can turn round.”
Murdo’s face, when he turned, was still flushed, but with lust now, rather than mortification. His eyes glittered like jet under half-lowered lids. He looked loose and debauched and very intent.
“I’m not going to last long,” he said as he settled himself over David, raising himself up on his knees as he sought to align his hole with David’s stiff mast.
“Nor am I,” David gritted out, hissing as Murdo finally touched his now-weeping cock. And then Murdo was sliding down, impaling himself, his body gripping David’s shaft with slick, living heat.
Oh Christ, and now David remembered this feeling from last time, only this was so much better, because this time Murdo was loving it too, his big chest heaving with effort, even as his eyes closed and his head dropped back in ecstasy. He planted one hand on the pillow, raising his hips high, then pressing them all the way down again in impossibly long, impossibly slow strokes, wrenching a series of groans from David’s throat.
Murdo’s prick bobbed between them, a sight that made David’s mouth water. He reached for it with a hand that was still slick with oil.
“God, yes!” Murdo gasped as David closed his fist around him and began to work his hand in rhythm with Murdo’s hips. “I’m so close—”
“Come on me,” David muttered. “I want you to mark me.”
Murdo groaned at those words, rearing back, and David felt the big shaft in his hand swell an impossible fraction more. And then Murdo’s seed was pulsing out, coating his hand, and Murdo’s body was gripping his cock, yanking a climax from David that had his back bowing and hips lifting from the bed.
When it was over, when Murdo had collapsed on top of him and the muffled haze of pleasure had cleared enough that David could open his eyes and actually think, he gave a soft huff of laughter, his breath gusting against Murdo’s neck.
“Christ,” the other man said wonderingly.
“Just what I was thinking.”
“I should let you fuck me more often.”
They both laughed at that, and Murdo lifted his head to look down at David. His dark eyes danced with affection and growing pleasure as he read David’s own expression, which David knew must mirror Murdo’s, since he was making no attempt to hide his feelings. They watched each other like that for a long time, till the joyful expression on Murdo’s face softened into something more reflective, almost poignant.
“I didn’t know I wasn’t happy before,” he murmured.
“Before what?”
Murdo gave a lopsided smile. “Before you. Not that I was activelyunhappy. I had plans. Objectives. Things to acquire or achieve. But—” He paused, then said simply, “You make me happy, David.”