Chapter Eleven Just Like Heaven #4
He was worried about whether or not it would measure up to his fantasies, if he’d be good enough for Julian, if this would be the first and last time.
The anxiety was thick in his throat, threatening to choke him.
He might have spiralled into a full-blown panic attack had Julian not put his hand over his where it gripped his hip.
Elbows on the couch, he looked at Rahul from over his shoulder, eyes soft.
“Rahul,” he said. That was all, but there was so much in that one word.
Like when Rahul has infused his kiss with every fibre of his love, in that single word Rahul heard the comfort Julian offered, his lack of judgement, his life-long loyalty.
It’ll be all right, it said. No matter what happens, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.
Overcome with emotion, Rahul leaned over and kissed his forehead. It wasn’t a very sexy thing to do, but it’s what he felt. It was a them thing to do.
He positioned himself behind Julian, nudging the young man’s legs apart until he was sufficiently spread.
He held his cock in one hand, Julian’s hip in the other, lined himself up with his loose, glistening entrance, and breathed.
I love you, he thought as he pushed inside him, the head of his cock breaching that first tight ring of muscle, before sinking deep within his incredible heat.
“Haahh…” Julian half-gasped, half-cried, his head dropping down and shoulders rising like two sharp ridges.
Rahul had never felt anything like it in his life.
Not even being with Henri had felt like this.
If he’d thought Julian’s mouth was heaven, it was nothing compared to his molten insides which clamped down on Rahul’s erection like it wanted to draw him in, absorb him.
He trembled with the effort to steady himself, to rein in his orgasm which galloped forward with unbridled enthusiasm, heedless of social etiquette.
“God, Rahul, you’re -- fuck, you’re so big -- feel so good,” Julian babbled lewdly, his hips rocking back on their own.
Rahul inwardly cursed him. He was not making matters easy.
“Julian. Please,” he begged, voice high.
He didn’t have to tell him what he wanted.
Just like before, he already knew. He could sense it.
Julian’s body was his body. Julian’s needs were his needs.
He knew what Julian wanted even before Julian knew it.
With one hand on his hip and the other on his shoulder, Rahul let go with complete abandon.
Every pent-up desire, every quelled need, every vivid fantasy, every frustrated night spent remembering the one evening they’d been together.
He let it all go. He rammed Julian with everything he had.
Gentle was for another time, another day, when their lust was manageable, not this exploding, all-consuming miasma that threatened to destroy them from the inside out.
He knew what they both needed right now.
And it was to bum the living fuck out of Julian until they both saw stars.
“F-fuck -- Christ -- Rahul,” Julian cried brokenly between the violent thrusts. “That -- don’t stop -- Jesus fucking Christ -- like that -- ahh -- don’t stop.”
Rahul couldn’t bring himself to form words the way Julian did.
He wished he could. He wanted to shout Julian’s name over and over and over again.
He wanted to tell him how good he felt. How he wanted to fuck him all night long.
How he loved him. God, he loved him he loved him he loved him.
But his throat was caught on his ragged breaths, his laboured grunts.
It was clamped tight around the orgasm he’d been staving off since before they’d begun.
Every thrust undid him further. Every drag in and out of Julian’s unbelievable arse sent wave after wave of pleasure crashing through his body, threatening to unmake him on a molecular level.
“Rahul,” Julian whined, voice high as a tea kettle, seconds before his body tensed and froze.
Rahul rutted into him like an animal in heat.
He’d surpassed his orgasm at this point.
He’d gone so far beyond arousal he was in another dimension.
The simple pleasures of a human release were so far beneath him.
He’d ascended to an astral plane where ejaculation had to be chased out with an angry mob and pitchforks.
He’d lost all sight of his physical body.
He was a being of pure lust. He existed only to fuck, to seek his own release however ephemeral it may be.
He was there -- he was so close -- he was going to --
“Fucking shit fuck,” Julian cursed, his insides suddenly closing up around Rahul’s cock and crushing the ever living fuck out of it, taking his soul with it.
Just as Julian’s body went limp, Rahul’s entire being collapsed like a dying star and he exploded.
His orgasm wracked his body like a car crash, his ejaculation leaving him like a bullet.
Somewhere someone made a noise like a strangled moose -- he speculated dispassionately that it must have been him -- and his consciousness fled along with his spunk, leaving him a senseless, empty shell.
He came to panting like a decathlon runner, his cheek resting on Julian’s back.
Beneath him, Julian was breathing just as hard.
Rahul was still buried deep within him and now, even after getting off, he didn’t want to leave him.
He wanted to be one with him for as long as he could.
He couldn’t stomach the idea of parting from him.
His chest tightened with mounting despair as his mind cleared.
Please don’t regret it, he prayed. Please don’t pretend like it meant nothing.
He knew Julian had said he wouldn’t regret it, but those had been horny words, coming from a horny and fairly inebriated mind.
He could feel Julian’s heart beating where his chest pressed against Julian’s back. He closed his eyes and stayed there for a moment longer, willing the despair back. Just let me have this moment. Just let me have this.
Then Julian stirred and looked at Rahul over his shoulder.
He looked well and thoroughly fucked. Black strands of hair clung to his forehead with sweat, his eyeliner was smeared, his cheeks a patchwork of red, tears clinging to his long lashes.
His swollen lips split into a cheeky grin. “That was all right.”
Rahul laughed and his whole body relaxed as though a hundred-ton weight had been lifted from him. Yeah. It was all right, Jules. It was the bloody best.