Chapter 22 #4
“Again—?” Chary’s heart was going a full thirty miles per hour, set to explode, and his knees liquifying.
He sat on the bed. The fear and tension of the evacuation were making things—situations—worse and better, simultaneous, and the shorts hid nothing at all.
“But all that earlier was for show! Wasn’t it. Say it was.”
Except the kiss. Even declaring it as Let ’em witness this; that kiss had been sincere.
“Earnestly, no. It wasn’t. Let me. Please, please.”
And so was this.
“You’ll do it,” Chary marveled. Half-demand, half-disbelief. “But—”
“I want to. Your brother isn’t here; Hiram and his cowboy can take care of themselves—Chary. I want to. Not for anybody else.”
Oh, God. “Lock the door,” he whispered.
Laurie did, and then fell to his knees before him.
Chary said, “W-what—what’s next?”
Laurie hummed. “Next, I suck you.”
“Oh. Yes.”
Laurie pounced. Hauled him close, knees spread, then licked through the cloth of Chary’s shorts. What police? Chary thought dizzily.
“Small turret library,” Laurie muttered. “Hah. To hell with these shorts, yeah?”
Chary nodded frantically, but his mouth said, “But—you said no skin-on-skin?” It came out like a plead.
“I lied. I lied a lot. You know me.”
“Oh, thank the Lord,” Chary said fervently, which wasn’t right—or maybe it was— Laurie seemed to understand, because he laughed. The shorts, anyway, were free of his ankles, tossed to the floor. Chary was not having any more conflicting feelings, and they both knew it.
“Christ.” Laurie came close again, pulling Chary’s left knee over his shoulder and clutching it there.
So much skin on skin: his body was as warm as a hot brick, sweating and sheened, his broad chest heaving shallow breaths like he rationed them.
“Longest legs I’ve ever seen, Cherry. I want them wrapped around my ears. ”
“You do?”
Laurie slid forward. The movement might’ve displaced Chary’s leg, but instead, he kept it clutched to him, nuzzling downward, startlingly intimate. “That’s the truth. Hold me close for what comes next.”
Brown and pupil-black eyes half-shut, Laurie tilted his head and wet his lips and opened them. Then, watching him the while, without licks or preamble, he slid his mouth slowly, slowly down onto Chary’s length.
Chary could only gasp.
Laurie took his time, adjusting, retreating and claiming, slicking as he went.
Halfway—or thereabouts, because Chary’s vision was blurring with hot sensation and disbelief—how was this allowed?
How had he dared ask for this?—Laurie paused, and slid back a little more.
Breathed. Then, nostrils-flared, he kept going—
“What—what—Laurie,” Chary gasped. “Laurie, how—” His left leg curled of its own accord; the other shook violently, tiptoe against the tile.
He grabbed at Laurie’s shoulder with two trembling hands, else he fall apart completely.
“How is it possible to— Ah.” His breath clicked to a hard stop as Laurie came all the way to the base of him. “Lord almighty,” he said, voiceless.
Laurie’s eyes closed; he stayed put, throat working. His hand rose and clutched tight to the dip in Chary’s waist, squeezing and stroking, splaying fingers wide to push against Chary’s great gasps and twitching, straining hips.
“W-wait.” Chary patted a hand blindly across a soft ear-shell, because surely Laurie couldn’t breathe?
Laurie’s eyes opened. He glanced up, and after a beat, as in his approach, he withdrew patiently, tilting his beautiful, teary face, goading, sucking. If this was performance, it was damned spectacular.
For his part, Chary had the urge to follow his retreat with thrusts, wanted to grab him and press him in again, make him shudder and heave and gag.
He didn’t dare, and so it was devastating as all of him was released.
He was left cold and tingling, upright and curving and nearly blood-red, and the rest of his body arched like a bridge.
Laurie breathed at last. “What—” He sucked in deep. “What’d I say?” he rasped.
“‘Hold me close,’” Chary whispered.
“Uh-huh.”
“That isn’t ‘Fuck my throat and gag me’!”
Laurie’s eyes flared a little wider. The hand at Chary’s waist squeezed hard. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry. Honesty.” He grinned wickedly. “Do both, Chary Wright. Fuck my throat and gag me.”
Chary inhaled. “But—”
“Yep.”
Chary had no rebuttal. Laurie hauled in his legs and bent forward and again began that slow, torturous slide.
Chary watched in agony and anticipation and terror until Laurie had him wholly engulfed once more, and then he simply couldn’t watch or else lose it right there. He threw his head back. Both his legs came far up, damn his house-of-cards stance, and his ankles crossed.
“God.”
He pulled Laurie in like he’d been told, around his shoulders. Hold me close. Laurie caught the forward shift of his weight in two steady hands, groaning agreement, mouth-full, throat-stuffed, wrangled.
Chary curled up on his elbows to stare again. So much beauty shoved between his legs. So much sensation, all at once. The instinct to thrust was impossible to ignore. He put his hands on upon caramel-silk blond, twitched his hips forward.
Astoundingly, Laurie squeezed his ass in encouragement. He came back up for air briefly—“You’re amazing”—then returned like he’d never left.
“Hell. Oh, hell.” Chary’s whole person became a bow of sparking agony. He had to fight to keep his hands gentle in Laurie’s hair. “Laurie.”
Emboldened by his taste of paradise, he’d become someone else, someone totally stranger between never having known he wanted someone else’s throat and now having had Laurie’s. He wanted it again and again and again and he was still there, having it.
Ten breaths in, he knew he was going to come fast, and no way around it. “Laurie, come off again. If you stay there, I’ll…c-c-…Oh— Oh, no.” He hissed in terrified, guilty need. “I need to— I need it—”
Laurie made another agreeing rumble and pulled him in ever closer, hands gathering everything he could reach, holding Chary tight but not still. Chary thrust and felt Laurie swallow and gag but not withdraw; his throat became a clenching sheath.
And Jesus, Lord, that was it.
“Lau— Ohh.” Chary’s breath stuck painfully in his own throat as he gritted his teeth and thrust and thrust and thrust. He squeezed his eyes shut and came so hard, his muscles felt like they’d break his bones.
Post-delirium, probably thankfully for Laurie, he was re-made limp and pliable.
As he spun dizzily on the bed, breathing deep, Laurie shook easily free from his grasp, and Chary’s soft-knead, exceptionally wet cock was spat out a little hastily.
Laurie put his forehead down on a hipbone, gasping, shoulders heaving.
One leg, then the other was let down carefully to the floor, fingers trailing.
“That was…” Chary had no words, and even less of an idea what now came next, what to do. Reciprocate? He didn’t have the slightest idea how, and it seemed like something one had to learn. He traced Laurie’s shoulders, the thick muscle along his neck, swooping paths. “What was it?”
“Mm.” Laurie dug his forehead in harder, nuzzling slightly. “Uh,” he said roughly, “throat-fucking. Nobody’s done it to you before?”
“Absolutely not.” Nobody’d done anything to him before.
“Damn.” Laurie coughed. “You sure know what to do.”
Chary skittered backward and up; the sheets were slippery. “Did I hurt you?”
Laurie sat back on haunches on the tile and shook his head. “Nope. Been a while.” He coughed again. “I guess I oughta thank you for being such an easy trigger.” He stood. “Holy hell. Yeah, that probably wasn’t wise.”
Oh, no. Was that undesirable? Or worse—the opposite— “Was it… so unendurable?”
“Chary, no. I begged for it. I’d die happy if it’d gone on forever. I’m just out of practice, choking on cock. Of the particularly massive kind.”
Chary blinked.
Laurie smiled. “You wanted honesty.”
“Ahh… yes.” He found a distraction. “But where did your towel go?”
Laurie had not a single stitch on him and noticeably no erection anymore, either; his cock was flushed but relaxed against his thigh. Unselfconscious, he pointed to the tile floor.
“Sacrifice.”
Chary peered over the bedframe. “Oh. Oh?”
“Unendurable?” Laurie whispered. “I’m sorry. No.” He shuddered, and Chary watched, fascinated, as muscle and fat rippled like waves. “But yeah. We should probably—”
A fist pounded hard at the door. They both jumped.
“Let’s go, you horny idiots!” Brasher.
“Oh, my God.” Chary made himself hastily decent.
Laurie, not bothering for decency, snickering, opened the door. “Your brothers in blue here already?”
“A hundred, plus brass, on the corner” was all Brasher said, and he pulled them both forward.
A hundred? “How many?” Chary gasped.
“Out, fire escape, now, both of you. Run. It’s maybe already too late. I gotta find Sumner.”
“You can’t find H?” Laurie interrogated. “Where is he?”
“Russian plunge. Think he’s been held up somehow. Never met me outside.”
“Hiram?” Laurie said skeptically; his expression changed to alarm. “Shit. Well, that ain’t good.”