Birthday Drabbles

These drabbles were originally written for Twiboy's birthday last April. I've had to repost them 'cause I couldn't edit them as I wanted.

Fiendishly

He looked up into the man’s face and found those golden eyes staring back at him, filled with want, need, desire, and no small amount of mischief. His breath caught in his throat.

Could he do this?

A fingertip grazed the inside of his thigh, barely touching him, yet he twitched in his pants and his back arched, hips seeking and needy. Apparently, yes. Yes he could do this.

Lips found their way to his neck and all reason left him.

“Oh god yes,” he breathed.

“God’s got nothing to do with it,” the man whispered. A sharp nip at his sensitive skin, and then the man chuckled fiendishly and growled, “Mine.”

Right Angle

He looked down at the lovely green eyed boy lying next to him, legs akimbo, one arm thrown above his head, bent at the elbow in a right angle.

It made him ponder geometry.

He traced a fingertip along the angles and planes of the boy’s face. He ran his tongue along the curves and circles of his chest. His hands palmed the flat surface of his stomach. His eyes drank in the muscled expanse of his legs, from their toe tips to the acute angle at their apex, until finally, his fingers closed around the circumference of the hard, nearly cylindrical entity that nestled there.

The boy’s reaction was decidedly not mathematical.

An almost lyrical litany of words and sounds spilled from the depths of the boy’s mouth, as he continued to stroke and pull and grasp until, finally, the sounds ended on a single note that, ironically, left the boy’s mouth forming a perfect circle.

Guardian

He watched them. Watched the rise and fall of their chests. Watched the tender kisses turn frenzied and needy. Watched dark skin slide against alabaster and bodies merge into one being.

Watched unruly copper hair entangle with long, straight black. Watched as their skin flushed and their pleasure grew.

He listened to them. Listened as words of love were exchanged. Listened as breath turned to pants and moans.

Listened as skin slapped against skin and wet, sucking sounds brought them pleasure. Listened as cries of ecstasy poured forth, as one boy spilled into the other.

He stroked. He touched. He felt. He exalted. He came.

He remained silent. He continued to watch.

A silent guardian. Forever watching. Forever listening. Forever alone.

Sear

Lips, tongue, fingers.
Wet, soft, grasping.
Each touch seared into his skin.

Hardness, slickness, pressure, fullness.
Slip-slide, soft stroke, deep thrust.
Each move seared into his body.

Blue eyes, green eyes, depths, shining, widening.
Tears, joy, love.
Each moment seared into his soul.

Hands, fingers, arms.
Clasping, entwining, engulfing.
Each movement seared into their beings.

Golden hair, copper hair, golden skin, pale skin.
Mingling, tangling, clenching.
Each embrace searing them together.

Heart attack

This was it. It was happening. He’d always thought it would happen violently, but instead it was a heart attack.

That had to be what he was feeling, right?

The pain. Oh god, the pain.

He hears a voice.

“Stay with me.”

The voice.

That voice.

The seductive voice. The voice that drew him to the alley. The voice that enticed him to strip and reveal himself to a stranger. The voice attached to that mouth.

That mouth.

The mouth that kissed him. The mouth that nipped and pulled and slicked his skin. The mouth that engulfed him. The mouth that sucked and licked and drew out pleasure until he was nothing but the keening wail that escaped him.

The mouth attached to that body.

That body that spun him around and pressed him to the wall. That body that caressed and spread and impaled. That body that pushed and pulled and brought ecstasy in waves.

That body that was attached to that mouth.

That mouth that peppered kisses along muscles and spine and neck.

That mouth attached to those teeth.

Those teeth which bit, and that mouth that sucked and sucked and the pleasure spiraling until . . . oh god, the pain!

An attack, but not a heart attack.

And that voice . . . that voice . . . that voice.

“Please, stay with me.”