Little Man - 1. Artist and Parties

“Little Man, stop spending so much time on my cock and get finished already.”

I always hated that nickname, but let's be honest; who ever gets to choose that sort of thing?

“I thought you enjoyed time spent on your cock.”

“I do. But we've got shit to do,” Eric laughed.

The last few lines of charcoal were blended on the paper finishing the drawing. Eric laid nude and posed out on my bed with an impatient but pleasant look on his face. He was the only male model I'd had outside of my art classes. Eric had been my roommate all of college and always teased me that I spend too much time sketching his cock. I really don't. When I draw and paint I tend to lose myself in the work. It's far less erotic than everyone seems to think. There's often a tunnel vision effect as the canvas absorbs me and not much else matters. It's all business. Everyone asks me if I sleep with my models; the answer has always been no. People think I should be sleeping with them, I just don't.

Don't get me wrong, Eric is a fucking god. He's a Sports Medicine major who lives in the gym and is living sculpture. He's gorgeous and his body is flawlessly perfect. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't so effortless for him. Just like everything else in his life.

We've known each other since junior high school. Eric had saved me from a beating from the school bully my first week of school after we moved there. After that we became the best of friends. We were inseparable.

I went to live with his family after my parents died in a car accident when I was fifteen. Eric's friendship got me through the worst event of my life. Without him, I don't know how I would have survived. He's the brother I always wanted.

Eric figured out I was gay before we graduated high school and he never looked at me any differently. He always looked out for me and when we ended up going to the same university, it was his idea for us to live together. Eric's family was fairly wealthy and my parents had a generous life insurance policy that was more than enough to pay for my college and help us afford a decent place to live.

“Alright already! I'm good,” I said. Eric slipped his 6' 2”, blond hair blue eyed Aryan ideal solid body into a pair of shorts. His muscles danced as he moved, the near hairless superhero was supremely self-confident. I don't lust after his body, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to take a good look. He does like to show off.

“It's about time. That took a little longer than usual.”

“It was a larger drawing. I included the bed on this one.”

I signed the drawing with my name, “Clay Moore” but no one calls me that. When you're a horribly under average height Art major who hangs with jocks you don't get to pick your name. I can't even remember how “Little Man” got started.

“Little Man, we have a lot of people coming for the party. You need to stash your artwork. You don't want people pawing through your shit and I don't want people to see all the drawings of me you did for your life drawing class. I still need to get the keg and you need to clean your ass up.”

Eric was right. I looked down at myself and saw dusty streaks of charcoal running up my arms and blackening my hands. If I looked in the mirror there would probably be smears on my face as well. I often wear my artwork and forget the world around me during the creation process. It's the price one pays for being good at something I suppose.

“That's fucking awesome!” Eric was towering over my shoulder and observing his figure study. The charcoal stud lay casual in a classic reclining pose. “The cock looks too small.”

“I was being generous.” Eric grabbed my head in his massive arm immobilizing me and rubbed my head raw with his enormous paw-like fist. “AHHH! Getoffgetoffgetoff!” I screamed. We were both laughing when he released me from his bicep and noogie of doom.

After tidying my room and putting a last few personal items out of party guest reach, I stripped down in the bathroom. Eric's voice from the hallway shouted, “Maybe we'll get you laid tonight.”

“Yeah, because this crowd has been so good to me for that so far. I don't think we have that much beer,” I shouted back. I laugh about it, but it's true. I don't get laid often. I try to date, but I haven't met anyone who didn't lust after Eric's short sandy blond hair, blue eyes and perfect body as soon as they met him. Either that or they accuse me of sleeping with or lusting after him and all the trust goes out the window. Match that up with a group of friends that consists of mostly straight jocks and you get a largely sexless college life.

I'm not ugly. I know what physical beauty consists of. I've been told I'm pretty good looking. It's just that I'm a sidekick sized guy in a sea of giants. I'm in decent shape. Eric helps me work out. I just can't push his level of weight around so I can't be his regular workout partner, but he has been my personal trainer for as long as I've known him. I've got a physique like a gymnast thanks to Eric, but I'm still smaller than everyone else around me. I also don't fit into the standard gay model at school. I'm not obvious and I don't care for gay bars as too many girly twinks for my taste wander the clubs. I'm not in the closet, but I tend to be discreet given our social circle.

I sighed quietly as the hot water and soap washed the day's salt and art supplies from my skin. The water forced my dark hair into my eyes and my skin slicked under the spray. The hair on my chest and stomach in contrast to Eric's flowed in the direction of the water into the trimmed hair surrounding my unused cock. I felt like I should rub one out before the party so I wouldn't be getting my hopes up tonight but I just didn't care at that moment. Maybe later.

* * *

“You got your eye on anyone tonight?” Eric half slurred in my ear.

He took another deep drink of beer out of the red plastic cup he carried. Eric's muscled arm was heavy around my shoulder as he spoke. The kitchen was alive with a crowd since that was the location of the keg. A perky brunette I didn't recognize was trying to get closer to my roommate. She kept “innocently” brushing up against him to get his attention. He had her in his sights out of the corner of his eye. If she stayed until the end of the party she would no doubt be screwed senseless by him before sunrise. I was a little uncomfortable having this conversation in such close proximity of so many people.

“You must be joking,” I replied.

“No, Little Man. Seriously. Who would you go after?” Eric's smile was a mile wide and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. It was horrifically comical and I nearly spit out my own beer.

“No matter what I like I doubt there's anyone here that plays on my side of the fence.”

“You could always try batting for the home team for a change,” He joked.

“Oh yes. I've seen a number of girls here that would like to put me in their pocket and take me home.”

Eric laughed. “Dude, you're not that short.”

“I think I'm the shortest person here. I'll think I'll keep my eye out for the sloppy drunk that undresses himself tonight. I'll have a better chance that way than trying to chat someone up in this crowd.”

“Don't know until you try.”

“I think I can do without that kind of humiliation, thank you very much.” I knew Eric meant well but this was so not going to happen in my favor. He usually wasn't this pushy, but the beer was making him atypically courageous. “If you can direct me to someone appropriate, I'll be all over that. Or better yet, feed him a lot of liquor to up my chances.”

Eric's smile faded slightly. He really wanted to help me out but even he didn't know any other gay men. It just wasn't a criteria for our list of friends. We didn't exclude anyone, it just wasn't a trait of our social circle.

“I wish I could help, Little Man. It doesn't seem fair if you don't have a chance to get lucky at our own party.”

“It's not your fault. It's just what it is.” I shrugged and tried to convince Eric that it wasn't important. He knew better but wouldn't say anything.

Of all people, Eric understood my loneliness even when there was nothing to be done about it. He tried to push me out more and force me to meet people, but I just didn't know how. The Gay Student Union on campus didn't appeal to me. I just didn't feel like being that exposed to the university. Maybe I was a little in the closet without realizing it.

“I'm gonna mingle. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky.” I laughed as I refilled my beer and shifted into the throng of partygoers to bring a close to this dead end line of dialogue. I looked back and Eric had a half hearted smile on his face as I noticed he deliberately put some distance between himself and the perky brunette. An act of solidarity perhaps? I pushed my way out of the kitchen.

It was after 11 p.m. and I didn't realize we could fit this many people in our house. It was a chore to keep from spilling my beer in this sea of co-eds. My Ipod poured a random mix of party tunes through the sound system. Quickly drunken people were talking loudly throughout my home. The party was in an uproar. The mood was high and the crowd was energetic.

“Little Man!!!” His huge voice shouting over the music spun me around.

“Ogre! When did you get here?” I shouted to Eric's best friend, next to me, and workout partner. Ogre was on the football team and was even bigger than Eric. He's a few inches taller and has at least thirty pounds on him and built almost as well. Intimidating didn't even begin to describe his appearance in spite of his clean cut grooming. His personality, however, was pure good natured party animal. I always looked forward to his visits. I got to see him more often since we were in the off season. Ogre loved a party and his smile was infectious. He was just an all around nice guy. Crew cut. Very all american.

It was the end of January and he was wearing a button up short sleeve shirt, cargo shorts and sandals. Ogre was from Michigan and he laughed at the Texas winters here. He had so much meat on his bones I doubt he felt the cold very often even when he was home.

“Five, ten minutes maybe. Where's Eric?” Ogre always looked me directly in the eyes when he spoke with me. He was the epitome of confidence and fearlessness. It was always a little unnerving, but I always enjoyed his company. And his voice. Ogre possessed a deep baritone that could and did charm the pants off many women since I'd known him.

“He's nursing the keg. Follow the crowd into the kitchen. I'm heading over towards my room. It's less crowded than way. I can breathe a little.”

“Cool. I'm heading for beer. Catcha later, Little Man. Get out of my way, people!” Ogre shouted as he pushed into the crowd. Even with his size, it was a chore for him to plow through the density of drinkers.

Like most parties, the crowd thickened the closer to the food or beer you were. The bedrooms were on the opposite side of the kitchen so the sea of people thinned in that direction. Inside my bedroom, a small group still resided for some respite from the shoulder to shoulder crowd. I nursed my beer and looked around.

There were about four girls and now about three guys having quiet conversation without shouting. A couple of the girls were only there to cock-block the guys from their prettier friends as usual. The guys were trying to impress the girls. Typical. I was absorbing the calm area from the party crowd when I heard a voice.

“This is your house, right? Are you the artist?” One of my sketch books was being paged through by a pretty girl with a blond ponytail. I thought I put everything away. I would have been pissed but she was asking with a tone of admiration and I'm a sucker to show my artwork. Around this many jocks, it's the one thing I have that make me stand out in this crowd.

“Yah. Sorry. I didn't think I left that out.”

“You didn't. I was snooping a little. Sorry.” Figures. “I love your work. This is really good.”

I laughed. “Thanks. It nice to have some talent.” I have to admit, this conversation was very welcome. I had a mild buzz and wasn't enjoying the party anywhere near as well as I should. I always thought the hosts should be enjoying themselves more. Who knew?

“I bet you would be a kick-ass tattooist. You don't have any ink, do you?”

“I never thought about it. I'm a little squeamish around needles so I can't see a future in that,” I laughed. “So I guess that answers the other question too.”

“Do you ever draw on people?” She sipped her beer again and smiled as me devilishly.

“Um, what?” I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly, but I had to admit I was curious. I had no sexual interest in her, but the direction of this was intriguing me.

“Draw on people. You know like a tattoo artist.”

“I never thought about it. Why?”

“I've always wanted a tattoo, but my parents would kill me. Plus, I'd be scared to get something permanent that I'd hate. This could be like a trial run. All the fun, without any of the commitment.”

“That sounds a lot like most of the guys I know.” I found myself very intrigued. “But I could do that.” I wish it wasn't a girl who came up with the idea, but I liked it. The beer was obviously helping me along.

“Hold still.” I reached under my bed and pulled a set of design markers from my illustration class.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Surprise me,” she said. The next thing I knew the blond girl pulled up her shirt and exposed her back to me, laid down on my bed and gave me a sly smile. I didn't even know her name, but right now she was just a fun art substrate so it wasn't important right then. I straddled her back and grabbed the first marker as the others in the room had taken notice and didn't take their eyes off of me. I decided if she wants a tattoo, she's getting a large one. I was aware that she was probably hitting on me, but I really didn't care at this point. The first pen strokes of a large butterfly outline had begun that would cover most of her back.

“Is this going to wash off?” she asked looking over her shoulder at me.

“Probably,” I responded noncommittally. Honestly, I really didn't care. “Now don't move or this butterfly is going to be retarded.” The next thing I knew the focus was there and I was quickly absorbed into the drawing. A few people out in the hallway began to notice the activity. The crowd was growing around me and the butterfly was quickly emerging.

A good looking guy from the crowd moved close. He was brown haired and cute as hell. I was only peripherally aware of him and then he asked with a wave of awe in his voice, “Dude, can you do me next?”

I paused my work and looked him over through the mild beer-induced haze that was creeping through my veins. A slow predatory smile flowed over me.

“Yeah. If you get me a fucking beer.” The night was definitely looking up.

* * *

Have you ever had that buzz that keeps you from being able to sleep? That's where I was at 3:30 in the morning. I'd spend the last three hours or more drawing fake tattoos on drunk people with a new beer as the admission fee. The constant run of human canvases kept me from having to be too nice to the girls and from getting too close to the guys. I had a great time being the center of attention for a change. I was still running on the adrenaline rush well after the crowd had cleared.

I picked up a few cups and straightened a little. The mess was huge. Cleanup tomorrow was going to be a bitch. The kitchen was a mess. The smell of spilled beer was already starting to show itself. I made a note to myself to rent a steam cleaner.

I turned around and found Ogre throwing empty cups into a large garbage bag. He was as awake as I was. Ogre, Eric and I were the only ones left. I was good with that.

“Thanks for help with the cleanup, Ogre. You really don't have to.”

“Aw, Little Man, it's no big deal. I gotta clean a spot to sleep on because I can't drive home.” Ogre started laughing and I couldn't help myself.

“Since you're here, you want to help me put Eric to bed?” I asked pointing to his uncomfortable corpse-like body on the couch. “How long has he been like that?”

“At least an hour. I tried to wake him, but he didn't flinch. You want me to throw him in his bed?”

“Well, I can't carry him.”

With a smooth effortless lift, Ogre picked up Eric's lifeless body and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. This wouldn't be the first time his strength impressed me and probably wouldn't be the last. Eric wasn't even registering the movement. Before I knew it he had carried Eric into his bedroom and stood waiting as I pulled back the covers on his bed.

“Let's get him undressed,” Ogre said. He carefully laid Eric on his bed and started peeling the tee shirt off his statuesque form. Eric gave no resistance as Ogre removed his sandals and shorts. Then he reached for the waistband of Eric's briefs.

“You're going to take his underwear off too?” I asked half laughing and half confused.

“Yah. It will make things interesting in the morning when he doesn't know why he's naked,” Ogre amusedly replied. He tossed Eric's underwear into a corner and scattered his clothes to different parts of the room. “Don't want him to figure it out too quickly.” I never thought a man so imposing as Ogre could giggle. It must be the alcohol.

“Ogre, that's so wrong.” I laughed quietly as I pulled the covers over Eric's slumbering body. Ogre couldn't stop smiling. We closed the door to Eric's room, locked up the house and crossed the hall to my bedroom.

“Looks like Eric had a good time, how about you?” he asked.

“Yah, it was all right.”

“Just all right?” Ogre looked me square in the eye with a cocked brow. “You looked like you were doing pretty good when I checked up on you. If I had a line of people taking off their clothes for me to draw on them, I'd be pretty happy.” Ok. He had been paying attention.

“When you checked up on me?”

“Whatever, dude.”

“All right. It was pretty awesome,” I admitted. “I don't usually get so much attention. It was a nice switch.” I sat down on my bed and Ogre pulled out my desk chair opposite me.

“What do you mean, Little Man? We've always got your back. You've always been part of the crew.”

“Yah, you do. It's just that it's easy to get eclipsed by you guys. You and Eric and the others can be a little larger than life. Sometimes, I'm just the wingman and sidekick no matter what happens.”

“That's not what I saw tonight,” Ogre pointed at my chest, “You were in your element, Little Man.” Again, that smile. “You could have had any one of those girls, man.”

“Yah, I guess.” I looked away from Ogre's eyes. I had always wondered if Eric had mentioned my sexual preference to Ogre or if he knew. I had my answer. I wasn't sure if I was happy about that or not. There had been enough guarded conversations in my past in his presence. I was tiring of it.

“You were definitely having a good time. I've seen your stuff but never watched you work before. You have a lot of discipline about it. I don't know how you could stay that focused with that much skin being thrown at you. I couldn't believe that one chick took her tits out at you.”

“Oh, you saw that did you?” I couldn't believe it either. Her breasts had implants. Store bought boobs. Sadly, I got more off the girls tonight then I've had off a guy in several months.

“Just how many times did you check up on me?” I asked.

“A few,” he replied and brushed it off as unimportant.

Ogre shifted nervously and paused a little before his next question.

“If I bring you a beer, can I get my turn?” I paused a moment. I thought I was really drunk and hearing things.

“You want me to draw on you too?” I asked surprised.

“Since there's no one to watch, yeah.” Now it was Ogre's turn to not look directly into my eyes. This was very weird. I knew I was drunk. Ogre was drunk. Ogre is straight. I've seen some of his dates. I've heard them through the walls on a rare occasion. Now I was in a good mood, buzzed and in a position for a private body drawing session on a friend. This had the potential to be very bad. But, like I said, I was drunk.

“Ok,” I said tentatively. Ogre was already unbuttoning his shirt. His garment opened and I couldn't stop but look. His chest was massive and the muscles under the skin shifted under each movement. His nipples were quarter sized and his skin had been shaved smooth. Even sitting down I could see his abdominal muscles in thick ridges. I was staring. The comments I made to Eric about finding the sloppy drunk who starts undressing ran behind my eyes. I needed to focus before I embarrassed myself.

I've seen Ogre naked many times at the gym. I wasn't seeing anything I haven't seen before, so why was I feeling anxious? What made this moment so different? Eric and Ogre have never been shy. Parading around in next to nothing was commonplace for both of them. It was a source of annoyance and titillation for me. I decided to focus on the art, like all the others earlier in the evening. Enjoy the artwork, and everything else will be fine. Be confident. Be the artist.

“Take the shirt all the way off,” I casually said. Ogre paused without a word looking me in the eye reading my expression. Seconds passed, then he peeled his shirt from his arms and dropped it to the floor. I uncapped the first marker and got closer.

“Do I get to choose what you draw on me?” he asked. I leaned in close and responded.

“Why should you be any better than the others? You didn't even bring me a beer.” The alcohol had made me bolder than usual. Ogre wasn't accustomed to not being in charge. At his size and demeanor most people just acquiesced to whatever he wanted. He slowly started to stand. “I don't need the beer. Sit down.” He settled back into my chair. My calm disposition belied how nervous I really was, but he was in my world now.

I had already decided that I wanted to draw a chinese dragon. I felt an uncontrollable need to impress him. If I concentrated on the design I wouldn't do something stupid since I haven't touched another man in months. I started focusing past the person and imagined how the art would lay out. As the first lines went down, I realized I was touching Ogre tentatively trying not to overstep my bounds. It wasn't long before my obsessive artist mindset began and I no longer cared.

The human canvas in front of me was large and I took full advantage of it. The dragon's wingtip ran all the way up to Ogre's neck and the head and body began on his chest. The dragon's long body began to snake its way along his torso and down his side. I started drawing in the clouds and background in Japanese tattoo style in thick heavy coverage. One design marker after another came alive in my hand as the compulsion to create took over. One color after another blended together to generate depth to the line work. I was so obsessed with the artwork, I was barely aware I was sitting in Ogre's lap twisting around to gain a better vantage point for the next element. I had a vision of a spider monkey climbing a giant oak.

I don't know how long I had been working, but I could tell I had his complete attention. He hadn't said a word, but I could feel his breathing. It was strong but controlled, and every once in a while a soft gasp escaped him. I knew I was touching him openly and I didn't care. I wasn't even thinking about how close we were right then. My face was warming from being inches away from his skin. One hand held the surface taut while the other colored in the pigments. A faint scent of man and cologne lingered at this distance. It fueled my tunnel vision.

I was working feverishly when I realized the dragon couldn't be finished as I was hitting his belt line. My left hand was on his chest and my right was holding a marker at his hip. I was breathing heavily in this fugue state and vacantly stared into his eyes and said, “I need more surface.”

Ogre stared into my eyes and I think he read my headspace. His breathing was audible. There was a moment where he questioned himself silently. He reached down and unbuttoned his shorts without breaking eye contact. He shifted his weight slightly allowing his shorts to shift slightly down.

In my obsessed drawing state I reached down and kept working along his open garment peeling back the cloth of his shorts as I needed. He was wearing a red set of briefs with white trim and as the dragon's tail came into my vision, I pulled the waistband down to give me full access to his hip. I was vaguely aware my wrist was sitting across his lap as I drew and could feel a firmness developing.

I looked down at my work. The elaborate design had come into view. My art focus started to fade and I realized just how much body contact I've had with this man who could crush me without trying.

“Done,” I quietly exhaled. Ogre's breathing was strong and ragged and I could feel his hands had been around me supporting my weight, keeping me from falling off the chair while I worked this whole time. An odd silence glided over us as well as awareness of our precarious personal boundaries. I wasn't sure what to do next as he held me in place. I didn't know what I wanted to do. A conflicted expression softly laid across his eyes.

“Wow,” was all he could say. The words were quiet and unfocused. He wasn't looking at the illustration.

“What do you think?” were the last words I said as I felt his hand rise up my back to my neck, his large hand firmly cradling my head. Ogre didn't say a word as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine for a moment and slowly pulled back.

I couldn't breathe. I stared into his eyes and saw the fear. He had just crossed a line. The moment seemed etched in stone. Anxiety began to well up in my chest. Ogre and I were not supposed to be doing this. Ogre was not and had never been a prospect. I didn't know how to take it back. I started to lose my confidence. Unconsciously, my hand caressed his cheek. This was exactly what I was worried about. What was I thinking?

“It's okay. You don't have to. . .” That's all I could say before Ogre pulled me in and crushed my mouth on his. He devoured me. He pulled in me tightly into his arms and kissed me carnivorously. I was more shocked to find myself kissing him back meeting his need with my own.

I had never been kissed like this before. Ogre's huge arms held me in place as mine wrapped themselves around his neck and head. He was crushing the breath out of me and I was getting light headed. His tongue invaded my mouth and I accepted it without question. Our mouths were battling for dominance and I wasn't sure who was winning in spite of his size advantage.

Finally, reluctantly, we broke our kiss and Ogre rested his forehead against my own. He was breathing hard and couldn't look me in the eye. My vision was mildly fogged and my heart was racing.

“I'm sorry. I've never... I don't know what to do,” he pleaded.

“Yes you do,” I growled, “Get over yourself and do what you've always wanted to. Stop being a pussy.” Ogre's eyes immediately snapped to mine. I didn't know where this challenge was coming from. He stared me down for a moment.

Suddenly Ogre stood, turned off my bedroom light before he lifted me up and ripped my tee shirt off, then playfully body slammed me into my bed. Moonlight spilled through the room and I could see far better than I would have expected. Lying on top of me he resumed kissing me intently as his hands explored my naked torso. His strong hands kneaded my flesh as he couldn't stop tasting my skin. We were both giving off soft moans with every new movement. Without breaking contact he reached out with his foot and kicked my bedroom door closed.

My hands reached everywhere feeling the thick muscles in his back and ran them down his firm sides. I found his waistline and discovered his dismantled shorts at the top of his massive thighs, the one side of his underwear was rolled back on his ass. When my hands felt this, his touch left me as he shifted upwards to remove what was left of his clothes. Our mouths had yet to break contact. Ogre laid his body back down on me and I could feel the unmistakable hardness of his erection pressing into my thigh. He dwarfed me and I couldn't stop touching his naked body.

I spent years not considering the group of straight men we associated with as possible sex partners. Ogre was at the top of that list next to Eric. The idea of sleeping with someone who doesn't really want you had never occurred to me. I never thought I wanted him. Now that he had pursued me, I gave myself admission to gripping his muscles, feeling a rush beneath my hands with every touch. I could barely reach the large globes that formed his ass and I tried to press him harder into me.

Ogre broke free and stood on his knees straddling me as he looked across my body. His pulse was racing and he was breathing forcefully. His powerful body was tense, the muscles taut like a animal waiting to pounce. His thick hard cock looked painfully swollen and seemed made from unwavering steel. Ogre was a beast. His hazy stare ran down my torso and stopped at my jeans. He paused and assessed the situation. The point of no return was here and Ogre needed to give himself sanction to continue. I watched him patiently as he ran his silent dialogue. A soft nod to himself, as he bit his lower lip and my jeans and briefs were greedily stripped from me leaving us both equally vulnerable and erect.

The hungry kiss resumed as he lowered his full weight atop me again. Ogre's smooth skin felt strangely silky. His hardened member was deliciously dense and soft against my own. I could feel his excitement by the slick trail being left along my cock.

Now that he had given himself permission, Ogre had taken charge of the situation. His animal rutting was forcing me into the mattress as I urged him on. He took possession of me. Our heated kissing had lost all sense of control. We were rhythmically pressing our groins together and a sheen of sweat slipped between us lubricating our efforts. Ogre was now fucking me with the full force of his weight and I urged him on. He was grunting in approval and losing total control.

Suddenly the moans and kissing became labored as Ogre gripped my body and used the kiss to stifle his desperate need to scream. Every muscle and sinew flexed and swelled in seizure. Each thrust and convulsion shot a streak of his seed between us as his orgasm overtook him. The intensity of his bursting and overwhelming body contact triggered my own release. I nearly screamed into his kiss as my load added to his. Even after we had stopped shooting we were still pressing ourselves into each other.

Slowly, our pulses began to level and the kisses became shorter. Our breathing was starting to return to normal. Sticky fluids were gluing our torsos together and we had yet to stop holding each other. Ogre's eyes gazed into mine.

“Oh god. That was. . .” A gentle smile was starting to form on his face. A soft kiss hushed him. I didn't want to talk right now. Everything was perfect and conversation was likely to ruin the moment. I just had a mind-blowing experience with a man that was always considered off limits to the point that he was never on the radar. If I began to think too much about what we just shared I was likely to think of the impossibility of what we had just started. Now I was content just running my hands over the close crop of his sweat dampened hair.

The soft light of the sunrise was giving faint illumination across the room and my feeling of unending alertness was quickly fading. The need for slumber was washing across me. I was expecting Ogre to get up and leave at this point.

Reading my eyes, Ogre rolled to his side pulling me into him and brought the covers over us. Massive arms created a shelter from the world as I pressed my face into his chest to prove the reality of the moment. I couldn't remember how long it had been since I had fallen asleep in someone's arms. A soft kiss on the top of my head and I drifted off making the thought irrelevant.