Authors: Varian Krylov
Impossible to resist slipping on top of Carson, lax and drowsy, letting his belly sink into the dip of the small of his back, nestling his morning wood into the soft warm cradle of his cleft. Smell and taste his skin. Then slowly take him, both of them still lingering near the edge of sleep. Slow flexes. Soft moans. And after he’d come, fucking, he put Carson on his back, licking and sucking and drinking him.
Showering together, even though he was going to work out and would have to shower again. Soapy caresses. A few wet kisses.
Breakfast. Easy. Quiet. When they finished washing the dishes, Xavier realized they hadn’t spoken a word all morning, and something in the fact of that silent, effortless symbiosis was soothing. And when he went into the bedroom to get dressed to work out, and Carson said, “I should probably go,” Xavier realized he wanted him to stay.
Turning on a playful grin, Xavier said, “Are you sure?” He tossed the black nylon shorts in his hand back into the drawer, and got out the worn, red cutoff sweats. “I’ll wear these, if that will entice you to stay,” he teased.
Carson laughed, and Xavier was relieved, because just as he’d made his little joke, he realized that Carson might not think references to anything to do with the basement would be funny.
“What? You want me to hang around and watch you work out?” Under his smile, he’d gone shy and nervous again.
“
Or you could work out, too,” Xavier said, wondering what the fuck had happened to his previously unerring lone-wolf tendencies, and why he was trying to come up with an excuse to make Carson stay.
But Carson’s face lit up, as if the idea of working out together was the most brilliant thing he’d ever heard. “Xavier?”
“Hmm?”
“
Would it be too weird if I…”
“
What? You need to borrow something to wear? You’re not getting these,” Xavier teased, waving the ratty red shorts. “I honestly don’t trust you to give them back.”
“
Could I photograph you?” Fuck, he sounded like he was asking for a kidney.
Xavier smiled. “So, maybe I should switch back to the decent black shorts. And not go commando.”
Carson’s shy smile. “Not necessarily.”
Well. This was starting to sound like fun. Xavier grinned. “All right. Besides, I owe you, don’t I, since I’ve already made you model for me.” He didn’t say it to be cruel. But it wasn’t like they could just pretend all that shit in the basement never went down.
Carson flinched slightly. Almost as if he’d forgotten about those pictures. But he brought his smile back and said, “That’s right. Now vengeance is mine.”
Weird, how self-conscious he felt with Carson circling him with the camera. Xavier had never been shy. Actually, he’d always pegged himself as a borderline exhibitionist. There was a thrill to provoking reactions in people. With a word. A touch. A gesture. Provoking with his body had always been in his repertoire. Partly because it was so easy, given his bulk and the tattoos.
With Carson wielding the camera, though, Xavier felt weirdly passive, like the camera was taking away his control. Much more so than the restraints on his wrists the night before. But as Carson crouched and leaned, rose and circled to find another angle, Xavier started to find the pleasure in that slight vulnerability, too.
Carson told him not to think about the camera, to just do his workout. That he liked those shots that make you feel like an invisible voyeur getting a secret glimpse at something private, something intimate.
So he tried. Focused on his reps. His counts. His form. The burn of his muscles. The rhythm of his breathing.
When he was done, though, and said he was going to go take another shower, Carson looked at him with another of his irresistible, shy smiles. “I’m not sure I’ve fully avenged my honor, yet.”
Now he was allowed to look into the lens. Allowed to look at Carson while he slid his hand over his torso, dripping sweat. As he pulled the soft fabric of his shorts tight over his stiffening dick, displaying the shape of it, then teasing Carson with a glimpse of the first inch, then another inch or two before hiding it from him again. But by then his dick was rock hard, sticking out obscenely against his shorts.
This was easier. Surprising, actually, he’d never done it before: fucking the camera, fucking a lover through the camera. Showing. Touching. He almost felt bad, because probably Carson had just expected him to play with his cock. Stroke himself off. But as soon as he really got going, he couldn’t resist getting a toy and the lube out of the chest. Sweet Carson, almost forgetting to photograph, at first, as Xavier sat back on the padded bench and started teasing his own hole with the toy. When Carson remembered his camera, Xavier slowly pushed the length of the dildo up his ass, then slid it out again. Teasing his dick for a while. Then his hole. Then both at once, loving that Carson had a full-fledged hard-on, photographing him.
“Can you…”
Pobre
. Still couldn’t say certain things. Drove Xavier fucking crazy with want.
“
Can I what?” he teased.
“
Make yourself come without touching your cock?”
Oh. Fuck. Yes.
Nasty grin. “I need a different toy. The red one. In the leather chest on the shelf behind you.”
Carson brought it to him, and Xavier lubed it up.
Poor Carson. The camera almost seemed like a burden, now, he was so eager to look. But he did manage to get a couple shots, now and then while Xavier went to it, eyes locked on Carson’s eyes, letting his cock bob free from his stroking grip, working the toy slowly in and out, then twisting and angling the toy to nudge and rub his prostate. He tortured himself—and Carson—for a few minutes, then attacked his P-spot in earnest, tapping and prodding, telling Carson when he was about to come, so he’d be ready to get a shot, if he wanted to, but Carson just watched the copious spurts of spunk erupt all over his chest and belly. Then met his eyes. Beautiful Carson. That look was fucking priceless.
“
Put that down and come here.”
Carson set the camera on the table and came to him, let Xavier undo his fly and take out his cock. Xavier got a glob of lube on the pad of his thumb, got hold of Carson’s cock—fuck, he loved that, the feel of that hard girth in his grip—and being cruel, barely touching, started rubbing the pad of his thumb in small, lazy motions over his frenulum. Nothing more. No squeezing. No stroking. Watching Carson tremble against the building pressure, Xavier went on like that, circling over those few millimeters of incredibly sensitive flesh, feeding on Carson’s cries of, “Oh, oh, oh,” coming with every breath, now. Sharper. Higher. Louder. And suddenly, coming. Beautiful darling. All over Xavier’s already come-drenched torso.
Almost before he’d stopped panting, before his hazy gaze had cleared, Carson gave him a mischievous grin. “Don’t move.”
He stood up and grabbed his camera. The sight of Carson standing over him with his flushed dick sticking up over his open fly made Xavier smile. Carson snapped the shot.
They showered in the basement, the bathroom, all of it, humming quietly with the echoes of the three days Xavier had kept Carson down there. Or, maybe for Carson, those echoes weren’t so quiet. He seemed thoughtful. A little disoriented. But not unsettled or unhappy.
“I like the new tattoo,” Carson said, running a soapy hand down Xavier’s thigh. “It’s your art?”
“
Yes.”
“
What’s the symbolism of it?”
Xavier disliked explaining his tattoos to people. Usually, he didn’t answer at all, or he made something up. His pat answer was that he’d seen something similar in a book, or on a poster, and tried to copy it. As if there was no deeper meaning, and he just thought the image itself was edgy or cool—two adjectives that didn’t have much significance for him, but that he used, because pretty much every client at the shop talked about the tattoos they wanted in those kinds of terms.
But how could he dodge Carson’s question, when he was gazing up at him with such earnest curiosity. Besides, of everyone, Carson would understand.
“
Well, the creature, it’s kind of a squid, but more fantastical, less like something that really exists. Its realm is deep and hidden, so we don’t really know if it’s down there, or not. But we sort of feel it lurking. Something dangerous that could surface and devour us, or pull us down into the depths. And the structure, the machinery around it is supposed to contain it. Keep it down there in its own dark realm, where it can’t wreak havoc. But, the machinery is damaged. The structure is full of cracks. So—”
“
So it’s going to break free. Sooner or later,” Carson said. “It sort of looks like it wants to reach across your hips and wrap a tentacle around your…heh, your snake.”
Xavier laughed. “No. This is my snake,” he grasped his cock, and gave Carson a playfully wicked grin. Then, pointing to the ink covering almost half his chest and slinking down onto his pelvis, said, “This is my dragon.”
“Also not very well restrained, I see.”
“
Seems to be a recurring theme.”
“
The squid seems more sinister.”
“
The dragon is my guardian. Something dangerous but good that’s inside of me. Something that’s protected me. And some other people. It’s my armor. But the squid is more…a part of myself that scares me. That I don’t think I know how to contain or get rid of.”
“
That’s why you wanted me to leave last night?”
“
Yes.”
“
Why you needed to be restrained?”
“
Yes.”
Carson looked sad. Worried. Which troubled Xavier more than he would have thought possible.
“Does that happen to you often?” Carson asked.
“
No.”
“
How often?”
“
This week was the third time.”
“
The third time in your life?”
“
Yes.”
He thought Carson would stay quiet. Go cold. But after a moment he got more soap in his hand, and went back to his gentle caressing, washing every inch of Xavier’s body.
Somehow the whole day slipped away, and Carson hadn’t left, and Xavier didn’t want him to. There wasn’t much in the house, so they walked to Hinano for dinner, wandered down to the beach for a while, then went back to Xavier’s and had a frenzied, charged fucking session, neither of them restrained, for once.
“Xavier?”
Xavier laughed.
“What?”
“
It’s kind of funny to bring this up, at this point, but really, you should call me Xavi. No one calls me Xavier.”
“
It’s what you went by, at the club.”
“
Yeah, well, I didn’t want to come off as too cuddly around Brian and Max,” he joked, though just saying Max’s name made the slumbering squid stir and coil its tentacles. “But you’re right. I guess I should have said, no one I’m close to calls me Xavier.”
Carson looked taken aback.
Xavier laughed again, reached down, and gently, playfully grabbed Carson’s balls and gave them a gentle squeeze. “What? You don’t feel close to me?”
“
All right, Xavi,” Carson said, sounding unconvinced, a note of laughter in his voice. “This might be kind of a stupid question.”
Xavier propped himself up on his elbow and peered down into Carson’s eyes. “Good. Because I’m way behind on my quota for mockery, the last day or two.”
That gorgeous smile. “Fair enough.” Carson gave Xavier’s pec a few light slaps, startling him and, yeah, turning him on a little. “So. What’s with the Terminator physique?”
Xavier laughed out loud. “Okay, now who’s mocking? I’m nowhere near that built.”
“Are you trying to be?”
“
Puta Dios
, no.”
Still laughing, Carson said, “And while we’re at it, what’s puta dios?”
“
O, cariño
,” Xavier growled, “
tenemos que darte lecciones de español
. We’re going to have to give you some Spanish lessons, darling.”
Carson laughed. And blushed. Xavier couldn’t quite believe how good it felt, looking at that smile, hearing that laugh.
“
Puta Dios
. Fucking God.”
“
Excellent. I’ve always wanted to be a bilingual blasphemer.”
“
Well, you’re bound to get an education around me.”
For some reason, Carson looked startled and embarrassed. “So I’ve noticed.” Then, almost distractedly, like he was trying to evade whatever had him suddenly so shy again, he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What? About why I work out?”
“
No. I work out. You’re, like, in Olympic training, or something.”
Another thing he never talked about. “You really want to know?”
Carson kept smiling, but his gaze turned serious. “Yes.”