Read Coming Together: With Pride Online
Authors: Alessia Brio
A narrow, pale frame bent over and offering up a bubble butt confronted Marten as he headed back with the wrap. Stripped of the black plumage, Raven was actually kinda lanky. Lean, ropy muscles laced Raven's bones together. Still, that ass was made to fuck—with either a tongue or prick. Marten would be happy with either.
Raven stood and turned at the sound of his return. Damn. Two more seconds of bent over and Marten would have dropped his own drawers. Even with the cold and wet, a decent sized package nestled in a thatch of black curls.
Like what you see?
Marten didn't even bother to hide his stare.
"What are you looking at?"
Dropping the blanket on Raven's head, Marten lied. "Nothing, obviously." He grabbed Raven's boots and coat as he moved through the kitchen. A few snaps of the electronic starter and the oven burner flared to life. Martin tugged the laces from the eyes and pulled the tongues out of the boots before opening the oven and setting the boots on the extended door.
"This should dry them out a little faster," he called back to Raven who slammed the dryer shut and cranked it on. Smiling in response to the glower, Marten pulled a chair over to the stove and draped the coat over the back. "There. It'll be a while though."
"Great. I'm still fucking freezing."
Marten bounded over, grabbed Raven by the shoulders, and steered him toward the bedroom. He could feel the bony knobs under the thick nap of the blanket. "Come on. I'll crank up the space heater. We can probably find a game or something on TV." Marten's den already felt warmer than the rest of the house. He liked it that way: a warm, safe, cubby hole.
"You got me buck naked so we could watch TV?"
"No, I got you buck naked so we could fuck," Marten laughed. "TV's for after."
Raven turned, grumbling, "You didn't need to push me in the stream for that." With a grunt, he fell backward on the bed. Jumbles of mismatched covers pillowed around him, and Raven let the blanket fall away from his body. All lean and pale, he leered up at Marten. At least one part of his anatomy had recovered from the dunking. Dark, red and needy, Raven's prick pulsed against his thigh.
"I know." Marten's mouth watered. He stripped his own shirt and toed out of his boots in record time. Falling onto the bed next to Raven, Marten fought with his fly. "That was just because it was fun."
"Asshole." Instead of helping, Raven watched him struggle.
A bit more writhing and Marten kicked his jeans to the floor. Already near bursting with need, his prick reared up and begged for contact.
Nice.
Marten twisted it in his fist. "So you can give it, but you can't take it?"
Raven's fingers wandered through the soft fur on Marten's belly and fanned out across his pecs. "Depends on what you want me to take." If that leer wasn't an invitation, he didn't know what would qualify.
"
Everything!" Marten growled as he hauled Raven to the edge of the mattress. Semi-prone on his left side, Raven bent one knee, hooking his foot on the bed. The other leg he let dangle to the floor. Marten covered him with his lean, sinewy body. Starting at Raven's chin, Marten licked his throat, down the back of his neck and across one sharp shoulder. Lifting Raven's arm, he buried his tongue in Raven's armpit.
Raven moaned, reaching back to run his hand through the thick shock of brown hair on Marten's head. He tasted like warm sky and dark earth. Marten nuzzled in the heat of it while his hand rooted in the mess of stuff by his bed. Finally, he found what he needed. Still lost in Raven's essence, he popped the cap, squeezed out a glob and slicked his cock down.
Without leaving his feast, Marten lifted Raven's leg and pulled it back over his own thigh. The position spread the pale man wide—an invitation Marten wasn't about to refuse. He pressed his head against the puckered hole. So tight, Raven's ass teased him with a promise but no give.
Raven shuddered, his hands fluttering over Marten's arm and neck. Then all resistance broke, and he slid into hot velvet. In one deft stroke, he impaled Raven. His cry cut through Marten's senses.
Moaning, Raven reached between his legs to pull at his prick. That dark head rolled back on the bed. Marten twisted and looked up the line of a lanky body. Lust-fogged black eyes returned his stare. He hooked his own heel on the edge of the bed. Pulling Raven's back against his furry chest, Marten nipped at his skin. Quick thrusts centered him. He hissed as his cock kissed the walls of Raven's body.
With a grunt, Marten began to pound in earnest. Each thrust burned through his nerves. Raven's warm balls bounced against his skin, and his body tormented him with heat and pressure. Clawing, biting at Raven's skin, Marten gave up to the animal within and pounded his own senses to shreds. With a hollowed rush of air, Marten came. He shuddered as wet heat filled Raven and swelled over his sensitive prick.
Raven laughed. The sound vibrated through Marten, coating his bones in more chills. Another hiss welled up inside as Marten slid from Raven's body. It took a moment for him to reconnect with his muscles before he pushed back. Wriggling to the edge of the bed, Marten took a blanket with him as he slid onto to the floor. He tugged Raven's leg until the dark man rolled onto his belly.
A little trail of cum dripped from his ass to tangle in the dark curls. Raven scooted onto his knees. His balls swung heavy between his thighs. Marten leaned in and ran his tongue against the tender flesh. His own flavor mingled with that of Raven, spicy and sensual. Nothing ever tasted so wonderful.
Marten buried his face between Raven's cheeks to lick and taste everything. As he teased his own cum from Raven's hole, he reached between Raven's legs. Wrapping his hand around Raven's cock, he stroked.
That long, hot prick slid in his grip. He twisted its head in his palm. A moan, followed by Raven bucking back into his kiss, rewarded him. His ass opened to Martin's searching tongue, and he reveled in the taste of his spunk mixed with the essence of Raven. Salty, sweet, musky, and rich flavor flooded Marten's senses.
Raven's breath hitched, and he shuddered. The prick in Marten's hand swelled. Marten wanted everything. He pulled Raven's slender dick back through his legs. Quickly dropping lower, Marten turned his head a bit and swallowed him. Not the easiest position, but Marten was more agile than most.
Sucking for all he was worth, Marten worked the hot prick in his mouth. Luckily, Raven was damn near gone. He croaked Marten's name. Balling his fists into the covers, Raven let go.
Cum filled Marten's mouth. More bitter, but just as good, Marten savored Raven's spunk. A few more draws on that slim prick pulled out the last heady drops. Panting, Raven crumpled onto the bed. Still overcome, his eyes fluttered and his jaw trembled.
Marten wrangled the blanket from under his knees and pulled it over his back then crawled up and covered them both. Burrowing as deep as he could into the pile of covers, he found Raven's lips by feel alone.
Slowly, Marten slipped his tongue into Raven's mouth. Raven joined him, pushing and pulling mingled cum between their lips. As they shared, their hands explored. The touches drew heat and hinted at another, less frantic fuck in the near future. Finally, Marten pulled back. He nipped Raven's cheek and mumbled with satisfaction, "
You taste like me."
"
Or you taste like me?" Raven ran his hands over Marten's arms. "Which do you think?"
The feather light touch soothed Marten. "
It doesn't matter. We're one and the same, you and I." He pressed his forehead to Raven's pale brow.
I know what you're thinking.
His little inside voice sounded somewhere between Marten's purr and Raven's raucous laugh.
"
Really?" Raven teased, his voice muffled by the layers of blankets. "So what am I thinking now?"
What are you thinking?
Marten drifted in the warmth of Raven's mind for a bit. Some of the thoughts might have been his own. They mingled together so much, it was hard to tell. A lot of staying in bed, a lot of fucking until they dropped, all of it sounded wonderful. Then Marten snorted.
"I'm good with most of it." Pulling Raven closer still, Marten nuzzled in the soft down at the nape of his neck. "But, don't go messing with Avie, man." Avie straddled everything, the here and the there and kept it all in order. She could see Marten's house without crossing the stream. "Mousy woman will kick your butt."
"
Why not?" The tock of Raven's tongue against the roof of his mouth sounded loud in the small space. "She needs a little chaos in her life. I stir things up. It's what I do, what you do, remember?"
Marten hissed a laugh of his own. "Okay," he conceded the point, "but only a little trouble."
©
www.james-buchanan.com
In the five years and two weeks leading up to Nuit Blanche, Lawrence and I hadn't spent even one full night together. That's how it goes when you fall in love with a married man. You take the time he can give you. Generally, I got a couple hours with him every Sunday morning, and an afternoon here or there if I was lucky.
We had sleep-over plans a couple times, but my Lawrence was the king of self-sabotage. The first time he was scheduled to spend the night at my place, he took a nose-dive down the stairs and ended up spending the night in the emergency room instead of my bedroom. Recently, he'd planned to stay with me for an entire weekend while Ruth was away. "
Quand le chat est parti, les souris dansent
," as my mother used to say. Then Ruth bailed on her conference. Is there an expression for that in English? Maybe, "When the wife stays home, the husband can't roam?"
Or can he?
As we rested in a sweet embrace one Sunday morning, my head nestled against his warm chest, Lawrence proposed we attend Nuit Blanche together.
"Nuit Blanche? In Montreal?" I gasped.
Why did Lawrence want to take me back to Quebec? No way he was going to reunite me with my parents! I knew he valued family above all, but there was no point in trying. If
maman
and
papa
couldn't accept the way I chose to live, as a mistress and not a wife, then I had nothing to say to them.
"No, not in Montreal," Lawrence interrupted my bitter reverie. Groping for the jeans strewn across my reading chair, he pulled out a flyer. Squinting in the early morning light, he grabbed his foldable specs from my night table. Glasses perched on nose, Lawrence at last read me the flyer: "Nuit Blanche, a free all-night contemporary art
thing
. The streets of downtown Toronto are taken over by massive art installations and the outdoor celebration last from 7:03pm until sunrise."
My heart jumped at the prospect of finally spending a whole night with my man. Well, not
mine
. With Lawrence, at any rate. "You want us to go together?"
"You don't want to?" I could tell he was bracing himself for disappointment.
"No, of course I want to go! Sounds great. It's just… what about…" I tried to say
Ruth
, but her name stuck like a fish bone in my throat.
Fortunately, Lawrence always knew what I meant when I hesitated like that. Never could say that woman's name aloud. "She needs her beauty sleep," he told me.
"What a mean thing to say!" I teased, giving his cheek a playful smack, repairing the damage with a kiss. Lawrence kissed me back, kissed my lips. Oh, the warmth of his mouth, precious and precarious like a tropical rainforest. He kissed me intently, powerfully, pressing my back, squeezing my waist, making me forget what we'd been talking about.
"So, you'll come with me?"