Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
How the Heart Approaches what it Yearns - 5. Day Five
Day Five
The next morning my partner's hand was on my ass at the front door. He was leaving for work, and Tony was still in bed.
"What time is his flight?"
"Six, this evening."
"So you have most of the day. You have to show him The Castro before he leaves."
"If he wants…."
My man knew I was unspeakably sad, so he really grabbed my ass. "I'll be home by the time you're back from taking him to the airport. I love you," he said, and kissed me.
"Not as much as I love you," I told him plainly, and he was out the door.
In the kitchen Tony came to me again a bundling mass of warmth straight from bed, and held onto me. We didn't speak. He went off to the bathroom, and I poured some coffee for the both of us.
˚˚˚˚˚
Tony was like a kid in a candy store in The Castro. He insisted on popping into each and every gift shop to peruse their endless supply of rainbow key chains, stickers, cards and cock-shaped Popsicle molds. In the clothing shops I bought for him whatever he wanted, including a second bag to carry it all home. A special gift was a classic baseball cap in soft ivory cloth and with a leather visor. It had a very demure rainbow band riding the top of the brim.
"If I wear this," he ventured, "some people will know, but most won't. People like my parents won't know, but guys will!" That final thought made his lips curl into that lopsided and wicked grin I had quickly come to love.
"Yes boy," I assured him. "We will know. The rest – fuck em. It’s none of their business anyway."
˚˚˚˚˚
Back home, we dropped his shopping bags in the front room like we had done with his travel bag on the day he arrived, and like that day, I took his hand and lead him to where I needed him.
Upstairs I pulled him by his t-shirt, and he followed. I placed his hands on my shoulder and walked myself backwards to the bed. I lowered myself and he caught me, taking me all the way down in his embrace. The lube was still in the bedroom, and that's right where I needed it too.
"Time for my prince to teach his king what he has learned. I want you inside of me, boy. I want you to leave me with a gift, a deep gift, one only you could make. Fuck me."
He began to kiss me. His hands were all over my chest and pulling at my clothes. My cock grew hard under his weight, and my hole convulsed with a steady rhythm simply thinking about Tony entering it.
He knelt and lifted my shirts over my head and arms. He came down, his mouth landed on my chest, and walked to my erect nipple. He stroked it so tenderly with his lips, I swooned. How could I not? My hands ruffled his short-cropped hair and guided his kiss to my other tit. His hands worked on my Bermuda shorts and undid them. He pulled them off. He stroked my dick with an open palm and genuflected before it. His mouth on it felt like that hot and centered nothingness I had connected to so earnestly in my heart. His moisture rose and the slickness of pressure, and of tension on it increased with his mouth's rising and falling. It made me pulse precum for him to taste.
He toyed with fingertips against my ass.
"Use the injector," I told him.
In a moment I felt it enter me, and he plunged a good amount of lube along my helpless passageway. I needed it, I was so excited and tense; my hole was going to drive him wild.
He put a dollop of deeply hocked spit on the tip of his cock and climbed on the bed with me. He rolled me onto my left side and pulled up my right knee from behind. I scootched back so my ass was full against his erection, and his left arm slid under my neck. He positioned his pulsing hood against my hole and turned my face to his. As he began to fuck me – push that fat head into my waiting and aching void – his lips and hot breaths enclosed over my mouth. I gripped down, and pained pants exited my lungs. His cockhead made it through, and his shaft slowly followed. He slid deep, and my panic relaxed into sheer pleasure. My wrists were sweating again, and he moaned and breathed hard into my mouth. He withdrew, all the way out, and plunged in knowing his tip would find my hole. He sank it farther than before and touched my prostate firmly. My precum drooled and I started jacking.
My Tony, my beautiful studly boy, continued to fuck me by pulling all the way out, and shoving his seven-and-a-half inches like a godhead into my gaping inner sanctum. He slammed it all the way into me, each time caressing my 'P-spot' with force, and driving me insane.
"I love you," he whispered, and he plunged deep in me again.
"…fuuuck…" was all I could manage.
His grip on my neck and waist tightened. His breathing became irregular and labored. I reached up with my right arm and locked it behind his neck. His lips fell on my nipple again, but this time, he bit it, not hard, but enough that I will never forget that sting from his passion. I walked my lips up and down the side of his neck, the salty nape, and his cheeks and chin. I lingered on his chin, sucking in the feel and taste of his youthful stubble on my palate.
I started taking in the voids of his sighs and pantings. My insides were glowing and yearning for my boy's cum to bless me. "Am I dreaming, boy?"
He grunted deeply, and I paused in my own rapture. I continued, "I want to feel your beautiful cock pump a creamy load deep, deep into me…." He narrowed his eyes like I was hurting him. "…A massive one that will enter my every part, forever." Tony gasped for air. My cock was swelling with his sounds of excitement. "I want my pores to smell like your skin after you cum in me; I want everybody to know that you love me – something they can see, something they taste, something they smell – and it drives them fuckin' mad from sheer jealousy." He gripped me the hardest yet and stopped fucking me. I felt his cock pump into me and I shot like a fountain. The contractions of my orgasm wrapping around his cock made him grip my face and kiss his last cumming breaths into my mouth.
"I love you too," I said when he finally released me. "I really fuckin' love you."
˚˚˚˚˚
We lay in bed after the cleanup. We didn't bother with any covers, only his form partially covering mine as he lay with his head on the left side of my chest. My hand was in his hair; his hand lay caressing the flanks of my abdomen.
"Do you remember," he asked me. "About the second night we talked, I told you I had a wet dream about you?"
"Yes baby, I remember."
He seemed to relive it. "I dreamed I had you in me, whispering things in my ear, kissing me on my neck while you were doing my ass from behind. You were gripping me, touching me around my body, my waist and chest, and telling me you loved me, and then I came and it was 5am in the morning. I got up and had to change myself, and it was hard to go back to sleep."
"Wet dreams are the best." I stroked his arm. "So emotional. I don't think anybody ever talks about how pure they are – like they come straight from the heart to touch the sex organs and make them react in the most direct form of love."
"It was so strong, and so pure, so intense. I never imagined I could have one about someone I only ever saw a few pictures of and chatted with by messaging. I was in total ecstasy; that's why I came dreaming of you."
"I remember that night too, baby. I had a hard time sleeping. After an hour or so, you know, half-asleep, I had to wake up and put some spit in my hand. I imagined I felt your weight on top of me, on my waist and chest, and I imagined your fingers gripping my arms, and I worked my cock until I came thinking about your phantom kisses on my ear and lips, and around the side of my head to my neck. Afterwards, I slept like a baby."
Some dark shadow loomed in my mind. It was this: soon Tony would need to shower and finish packing. Then to the airport. Then, then what? It was a heavy thought to bear.
"I think," I told him. "We were always meant to do this. How else could I have missed you so before I ever met you. I think we were lovers in a past life or something, and that this reunion was always waiting for each of us."
"Yes. Yes, my king. That must be it."
˚˚˚˚˚
The swirl of crowds at the airport moved about us. The grand ticketing hall of the International Terminal hummed with mild reverberations from the ceiling down to us on the floor. Tony had checked in. I portered one of his bags for him.
We meandered over to the security area, and paused at the back of the queue.
I took in a big sigh of air. "I'm lousy at goodbyes. So lousy, I really can’t say them – especially, not to you. So, don’t say it to me either. Ok?"
He nodded his head. His hand came out and took mine. I held onto it like it was a tether to life itself. I squeezed it and without looking could feel my mood ring on his middle finger. I did not need look to know what color it was – a miserable one.
I pulled him into a hug, and he kissed the side of my neck. Then he pushed back and latched on the shoulder strap of his bag on my shoulder.
"I…" I stammered. "I'm gonna stay here. Ok? After you get through the line, and I know you're safe, give me one last glance, and then I can go."
Again he nodded. He moved off and began the slow pacing and shuffling of feet and bags that is the modern security procedure.
As I waited, I thought about last night's post-coital scene. For once my Tony had gotten his wish.
After we fucked, the three of us lay in our bed and kissed and felt each other, and after a while, my partner rolled on his side, away from us, and drifted off into sleep.
I cuddled Tony's head and he listened to my heartbeat. His hand played with my tit until he noticed my mood ring. He took it off his finger and tried to place it back on my pinky.
"No," I said. "That's yours. Finally, for once, I don’t need to tell you with words that you are safe, that you are loved, and that you will be all right. I can show you. You can fall asleep in my arms, and know it." I put the ring back on his finger.
He puzzled at it a moment. "But you know, you said dark blue was the happy color. Every time I look at it, it's purple or light purple. Does that mean I'm not happy, with you?"
"Oh baby, no. It means you are. Those colors are deeper than mere 'happy.' It means you feel connected. It means you feel loved, Tony. Your words tell me, and your body confirms it. It is the most loving, spiritual color possible. You are connected to yourself and your soul glows violet because of love – my love. You do me the greatest honor of all, by loving me back."
Tony was deep in line now. My eyes could barely trace his tall figure moving about, but, I did. Soon he'd be 'free' on the other side, and maybe some dark and destructive force in me wanted him to say 'Excuse me; pardon me' and make his way back through the forward momentum of the crowd. Yes, fight his way back through all those people with destinations to get to, because he needed to return to me. He would not leave me in my misery – but, he did not. His head went under the metal detector. He was clear. A couple of minutes later, he had his bags on his shoulders and he came up to the spot behind the lines where he could see me.
He raised his arm and gave me a powerful wave, a commanding side-to-side, with his new baseball cap in his clutches. My boy, bless me it's true, he wanted to make sure I saw him. He made sure he did the last thing I had asked him to do. I lifted my hand to my lips and blew him a kiss. He caught it and pressed it to his chest, to the spot over his heart – one final Amen – and then he turned, walked backwards, and disappeared.
That last night in bed, as my prince drifted off to his dreams, about me seemed to hang a halo of his clean pine needle and cucumber scent. I fancied it arose from me as much as from him. Here and now, there was no need for lullabies; no arias to be read or sung; no dreams to be spoken or written about on how I would lay my boy's head down for the night. No, there was just him; his head, and me; my chest. My heart had approached what it yearned, and obtained it.
I gently twisted the ring on his finger, and I told him my last secret and esoteric thing: "You feel me on your finger, as I feel you wrapped around my soul, and we will be together." I kissed his forehead, and my boy slept like a baby.
~
- 15
- 2
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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