Page 63 of Heir to a Curse

I dropped to my knees beside him, marveling at the changes. Time hadn’t completely frozen for him. He was older now, probably closer to my age than the boy I recalled from past lives.

“Let me stay with you,” I begged him, reaching out to touch his face. Those glittering dark eyes looked sad. “Please,” I asked.

He let out a soft sigh and leaned forward to kiss me. His lips on mine, sweet, soft, but passionate. I longed for a million things in that moment. For time to show him the modern world, and a chance to really give him freedom, but I’d accept a few hours of peace, worry free affection. I tugged him away from the table and toward the bedroom.

My home, my bed, my world. Would he let me show him a few delights before we both walked through to the other side? I reached for the ties on his robes, and he let me. Returned my kisses as we both stripped, leaving behind a trail of scattered clothing from an era long gone.

He let me lead him to the bed, and the delicate silk cover, which reminded me of his little nest. I pressed him down onto the soft mattress and covered his body with mine, hands running over the soft strength of him, trying not to wince at the feel of his bones so close under his skin. Too thin. Maybe I’d call the house for more canned goods before we left.

“Xiang,” I whispered, running my hands down to cup his butt. “Can we?” I didn’t even know if he understood. We’d touched each other before, but things had changed through the centuries. Did men love other men in his time? More in a physical sense? I reached for the drawer in the table beside the bed and found my stash of lube. It was all I had since I never had sex anymore, other than an occasional self-care time. Maybe I’d pack that too.

He replied with a fierce kiss, his tongue finding its way deep into my mouth and exploring me as I ran my hands over him. I tugged the blanket out from beneath us, leaving the soft sheets, and his flesh as the only thing between the bed and me.

For a while we kissed, our hips sliding together, small moans coming from both of us, but neither wanting to break the kiss long enough to do anything else. But then I pulled back, added some lube to my hand and coated us both, sliding my cock along his for a few minutes. He wrapped his arms around me, hands planted in my hair, lips on my collarbone where he nipped and sucked.

Nothing about this was frantic or rushed, though I felt like we were running out of time. Even though I planned to go with him, I had a sinking feeling in my gut, that something wasn’t right. Like we’d played these roles before.

“Xiang,” I whispered again, hoping he’d help me clarify.

He smiled, his lips curving against my neck as he kissed upward. “Zach,” he said softly. The first time I could recall him saying my name. I groaned.

He wrapped one of his calves around my thigh, pressing us close. I reached down, taking advantage of the space to cup his balls and explore the recesses beneath. Would he pull away? It felt almost dirty to touch him that way. Like he was something special and sacred, so I had no right. But that wasn’t true. He wasn’t some mythical symbol like theqilinpainted and hanging on the wall over my bed. He was real. A person full of emotions, hopes, dreams, and life. In that moment I wanted to bring him pleasure.

I found the edge of his opening with my fingertips, a delicate ripple of flesh and sensitive muscle, that quivered when I caressed it. He gasped, body pressing into my fingers, like he wanted more.

“Yes?” I asked him. Would he understand? I knew he understood only parts of my language, but prayed he would know enough.

“Yes,” he agreed. He rested his forehead against mine for a moment, licking his lips, then tilting his head a bit to capture my bottom lip with his teeth, giving me a small tug. “Yes.”

I added more lube to my fingertips and circled the rim of him a few times more, watching his eyes, how they sparkled with lust, went half lidded when I added a bit of pressure to his hole. He sucked in a hard breath when I pushed my first finger in. His body swallowing me in warm heat. The sensation nearly undid me.

“So slow,” he growled at me, as though unsatisfied even while obviously enjoying himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I protested. There were flashes of memories, bits of the past me, who had him at one time or another. This was not completely new to him, but long periods of time always separated our passion. I tried not to dwell on what that meant.

He shoved at me, rolling us so he was on top, straddling my hips. I gasped at how beautiful he was, with all the lights on, and hair swirling around us, his flesh looking so delicate against mine, which was sun darkened and rough.

He nipped at my lips again, then kissed the tip of my nose before sitting up and reaching back to take my cock in hand. Still slick with the lube I’d coated us both with, the tip of me pressed against him. I trembled, waiting for it, letting him set the pace, feeling him press down, guiding me in.

For a few seconds I thought it wouldn’t happen, like a wall keeping me out, but then I slipped in, his body gripping mine and dragging me deeper. I had to fight to keep from thrusting hard into him, his body so tight it almost hurt.

Instead I rested my hands on his hips, trying hard not to dig my fingers in like I wanted to. Finally his ass rested against me, my body deep within his. So deep, his heat pulsing around me in time with his heartbeat. I trembled, closing my eyes to revel in the feeling, the connection, the perfection that we made. But I had to open them again, to gaze at him and memorize the look of him above me.

He moved his hips a little, giving me leeway to move, and we both began the dance. Slowly at first, finding a rhythm. He leaned down to kiss me again, our mouths open wide, as though exchanging breath with each kiss. I couldn’t help the building need of our bodies sliding together, becoming fiercer, my thrusting into him creating an almost porn-like slap that had me gasping for breath.

He met my body with his, grinding his hips into me, his cock pressed between us. I reached for him, taking him in hand even while I clutched his hip with my other hand. I wanted this moment to never end. Even while the climax built, soaring higher and higher, I feared for a minute the top of that peak, never having risen so high. Would it happen? What would happen if I came apart? Let go of everything for that one moment?

Then it happened. An explosion inside a thousand times more intense than I’d ever experienced in my life. An orgasm of souls as well as bodies. I exploded, my seed filling him, even as I felt something merge between us, all those broken edges of my heart filling with him, like two parts of the whole finally finding their links. His body throbbed in my hands, cock spurting a warmth over my knuckles, as his mouth fed at mine. I savored his gasps of pleasure, his hands bruising me as I was bruising him.

His weight fell against me, and I sucked in deep gulps of air, thankful to have him in my arms. He rewarded me with kisses again, decorated my face with them, even along my hairline where I felt sweaty.

“I should shower,” I told him. “Wash off the sweat.” But I didn’t want that moment to end just yet. Instead I wrapped my arms around him, trapping him in my embrace and holding him tight. I buried my face in his neck, his hair smelling of green things and his skin of sex. I breathed in the scent of him and smiled against his skin. This was good. I could live with this for the rest of my days. No matter how numbered they might be.