Lover Boys Forever (15 page)

“
Come here, baby,” I said. “Clean up your mess.”

Billy dropped to his knees and bent me backwards over the coffee table.
His tongue started above my navel, and worked its way up slowly, savoring every drop. He lingered on my nipples, sucking and biting until there were tiny sharp peaks aching for more.

“
Get in bed,” I told him. “On your hands and knees.”

“
Do you want the rest of my clothes off?”

“
God, yes!”

I waited for him to undress, before taking my own clothes off and getting the condoms and lube.
I crawled up on the bed behind him, where I took time to appreciate the view. Billy’s ass was virtually hairless, and rounded in a way that begged to be fucked. I lubed up a finger, and teased his hole. Billy sucked in his breath, then groaned as I kissed the base of his spine.

“
You like that?” I asked. “You want to be finger fucked?”

“
Yes.” Billy pressed the side of his face into the pillow. “So much.”

I slipped one finger into him, then two.
Billy took them easily, and his insides wrapped my thrusting digits like a glove. I slapped his ass, and told him to fuck back. Billy did as he was told, moving his hips in time with my fingers until his cock was swollen and red.

“
All right,” I said. “Let’s see how much dick it takes to get a big boy like you off.”

I took him in a single thrust, making sure to lube my dick well first.
I pulled out just as fast, stopped at the tip and went into him again. Rinse and repeat I said to myself, as I took Billy’s ass like a jackhammer. I was capable of more nuance, even tenderness, but at that moment all I wanted to do was make him come hard enough to make up for two years of waiting. My balls bitch-slapped him with every stroke, to which Billy said thank you, over and over again.

“
It’s so good,” he moaned. “Your cock is so good.”

“
What?” I asked. “First time taking it from behind?”

“
Yes,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

I could
’t believe it, how could anyone look at an ass like that and not want their dick in it?

“
Come on Billy,” I said. “Show Davy boy how hard you can come.”

One more slap, and Billy shot his load across my mattress.
I came a few seconds later. By then his body was so sweaty my hands almost slipped when I grabbed his hips to drive myself in deeper. After I spent my load, I saw spots, and slumped out of Billy and onto my side. I closed my eyes, for just a second, and woke up an hour later. Billy had a towel down on his side of the bed; he was fast asleep and facing toward the window. I got up, and went to find my cell phone.

“
Hey Bryan. I can’t come for lunch tomorrow, I have plans.”

“
What plans?”

“
Fuck you, what plans. I just called to let you know, I have to get back to bed.”

“
In bed already, that was a great date.” Bryan sighed. “Look, were you at least nice to him?”

“
Ask him yourself, you stuffy old lady.”

I hung up, happy with
the knowledge that my parting comment would piss Bryan off to no end. When I got back in bed, Billy woke up, and looked at me with bleary eyes.

“
Do you want me to get going?” He asked.

“
No, I want you to stay here.”

He turned into me, and I put my arms around him.
He smelled good, and I liked how warm and solid his body was inside my embrace.

“
Was it OK?” He asked. “Being with someone like me?”

“
Tall?”

“
I’m not the big man in bed. They always expect me to be.”

“
Just because you’re over six feet tall, doesn’t mean I expect you to throw me over your shoulder and have your way with me. In fact, that would kind of be a deal breaker.”

“
Is that why you date little guys?”

“
If you think size has anything to do with how passive someone is, I have a few exes you can meet. One of them cursed me out for wanting to pay for too many dates. He said if I felt that way about dating, I should stick to women. I date skinny guys because they’re fucking hot as hell.”

“
So I’m not a deal breaker?”

“
You’re hot as hell.” I rested my forehead against his, and looked into his eyes. “You want to hear another story?”

“
Can I hear the one about your mother and father again?”

“
I want to tell you a different one.” I swallowed hard. I could feel my heart punching my chest. “I’m going to tell you about how I met the man I’m going to marry.”

# # # # #

“You aren’t wearing a tie.” Bryan frowned.

“
Neither is your date,” I said.

“
He’s not a groom!”

“
Are you ever happy?” I asked. “Can’t you just go be smug about the fact that you played matchmaker?”

“
You look like you’re going to a funeral.”

“
And Billy looks like he’s going to try and call James Dean back from the grave.”

Bryan shook his head and led me out to the front of the temple, where a Buddhist priest was waiting to marry me and Billy in a Eastern/Western fusion ceremony.
It was our way of making sure everyone we invited felt included, instead of being forced to attend a “cultural experience.”

“
I called the catering company,” Bryan whispered. “They still won’t switch to plastic glasses.”

I wanted to complain
, but instead, I started laughing, harder and harder, until I saw Billy come down the aisle. That shut me up, and I had to lock my knees to keep from hitting the ground. I relaxed them, as he got closer, and ran to meet him halfway.

“
David!” Bryan yelled. “Get back here, you kiss him after the ceremony! After!”

I ignored him.
When we pulled apart, Billy smiled at me.

“
You showed up.”

“
Cute,” I said. “Hold onto my hand. Don’t let go until it’s over.”

Billy
’s smile faltered. “Are you scared?”

“
Yes,” I said, too low for anyone but him to hear. “Not of marrying you, I don’t know what the fuck I’m scared of; just hold my hand and tell me one thing.”

Billy grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“What?”

“
Are you sure you can put up with me for the rest of your life?”

“
Don’t worry. Bryan tried to convince me you were a terrible idea when I first asked to meet you.”

“
And you really want to marry me?”

Billy kissed me, and I had to lock my knees again.

“
Yes,” he said. “Now lead the way.”

Residing on English Bay in Vancouver, Canada,
Jay Starre has pumped out steamy gay fiction for dozens of anthologies and has written two gay erotic novels. Contact Jay Starre on Facebook.

The day was warm but a breeze off the ocean wafted up to the high tower on the eastern wall of the Keep to soothe and cool him. Ricardo tenderly bathed the unconscious young man
’s beautiful face with a wet cloth. As he gazed down at the closed eyes he wondered when they would open again – or if they would open again.

He recalled the beauty of those eyes, even when glazed in delirium. It had been only the previous morning when he had looked into them for the first time. They were blue, but with a lovely ring of gold around the pupil that was quite entrancing. At the gate to his Keep, the youth had fallen into his arms, babbling desperately in a foreign tongue that he recognized as some odd dialect of the English language.

He had collapsed, then still staring up into Ricardo’s eyes with a desperate but hopeful plea, had slipped into unconsciousness. He was still in that condition now.

Ricardo had insisted on carrying him up the stairs to this quiet tower room rather than leave the duty to his servants. He had insisted on watching over the youth as well, even changing him out of his disheveled and sweat
-soaked clothing and bathing him.

Slender, but with the supple muscle of an active person, the youth was quite tanned over most of his body except for the area from his slim waist down to his lower thigh just above the knee. It was a little unusual, as if he
’d been laboring outdoors with only a pair of knee-length breeches to protect himself from the bright Sicilian sun. A fisherman? A dock laborer?

Whatever might be his profession or station, he had been dressed in simple trousers, tunic and boots with neither cap nor cape nor purse. No weapon either. It was certainly a mystery.

His guards and servants had been horrified when he decided to tend to the stranger personally rather than leave it to them. Abdul, the Castellan of the Keep and his Master-at-Arms, had been adamant. “You are a Duke! This is beneath you!”

He had to laugh at that. At the tender age of
twenty, a Duke he may be, but he had no Dukedom to speak of. His Uncle inhabited the family Castle in the north near the capital Palermo while he languished here at this dismal and isolated Keep on the southeast coast. For his own safety, supposedly, but for all intents and purposes a prisoner.

Politics. He was not much good at them yet. If he was to survive, he knew he would have to get better. But for now, he had this handsome young man to think of.

A dimple in his chin cried out for a light kiss. The cheeks were unshaven and a very light beard of soft ginger graced the narrow profile. His nose was not much, especially when compared to a great Italian one like his own. The eyes – ah how he wished to see them open again!

He rose quickly, suddenly wishing to escape the desperate longing welling up in his breast. He strode to the open window and placed his hands on the smooth stone sill and gripped tightly, thus able to still their trembling. The view out the window was calming. Far below, a stretch of white sand gleamed under a spring sun. The azure Mediterranean waters lapped gently at the strand. He turned his gaze to the south where he looked down upon one of the Keep
’s courtyards. A trio of tall palms swayed in the light breeze. A small fountain splashed. Beyond that walled yard, the southern wall of the Keep fell to meet the slope below. Grape vines marched in tidy rows downward to the plain at the foot of the walled retreat.

He assessed his emotions, something he had been taught to do by one of his tutors, the Byzantine monk Dimitri. What upset him so about the languishing stranger behind him? The lovely youth was pitiable, of course, and that did distress him. He hoped for his recovery, as he would for anyone in that sad state. But
, he hoped more than a little, much more. The young man’s beauty was certainly a factor in this powerful hope Ricardo entertained, but there was more. Somehow, he felt a kinship with the man. A kinship that was as powerful as what he would feel for a family member. Even more than that. Even more.

And he must admit to himself a greater truth. He felt himself to be in the same situation as this helpless youth. He was not quite awake, not engaged in his life as a vigorous youth should be. He was somehow dreaming, much as the red
-headed young man behind him must now be doing.

With a sigh, he turned and made his way back to the slumbering stranger. He sat again at his side and took up the wet cloth to bathe his sweat
-soaked brow. So sad!

Then, spontaneously but quite naturally, he bent and kissed the dimple in that smooth chin. He blushed at the powerfully sensual delight he experienced from the simple gesture. Vividly, he recalled the youth
’s throbbing erection earlier that morning when he had been bathed. His own cock rose to the occasion, increasing the blush on his smooth amber cheeks.

“
Where am I?”

Ricardo shot upright. He spoke! And in Italian!

“You are at the Keep of the Palm and the Vine. I am Duke Ricardo di Genoista, at your service. You have been gravely ill. How do you feel?”

He had attempted to speak clearly and slowly, regardless of the fact his pulse raced and his face remained crimson.

“I feel ... all right. A little tired, stiff perhaps. May I ask, what is the date? And who did you say you were?”

The youth rose without aid to a sitting position. Ricardo was glad to see that. He smiled encouragingly and spoke again as clearly as possible.
“It is the fifth day of April in the year of Our Lord 1130. I am the Duke Ricardo di Genoista of Palermo. You are my guest, although I hadn’t thought to invite you. Do you not recall arriving here two days ago? You were delirious. And may I ask your name?”

“
I am Matthew ... Matthew Brock. I don’t recall arriving here. I don’t recall ... much of anything. That is strange.”

The look on his face was pitiable. Confused, frightened, then eager as he gazed directly into Ricardo
’s eyes in an obvious plea for answers.

“
I’m afraid I cannot tell you anything. You arrived on foot, with no horse, no companions, and with merely the clothes on your back. Are you a Norman? You certainly have the look of one.”

“
A Norman? I’m not sure what you mean. This is very odd. I can’t recall anything. Nothing. Except ... you look familiar. And your voice ... it seems I’ve heard it before.”

Ricardo
’s blush of embarrassment returned. He had spoken to the youth while he tended to him, imagining it might somehow help him recover. Perhaps he had heard!

“
Well. You must rest some more. Your memory will return once you have recovered more fully. May I offer you some watered wine? Perhaps something to eat?”

A smile flickered across the freckled countenance briefly. It was a quirky and engaging smile, with the left corner of the pink lip curled higher than other. It did not last more than a moment.

“A Duke serves me? Isn’t that unusual? But yes, I am thirsty! And hungry, I believe. I would also like to get up and walk around a bit. Test my legs, if I may.”

He was very polite. Ricardo helped him to his feet and kept an arm around his waist as he took a few steps toward the nearby window.
“I think I’m fine. You don’t need to hold me up, Your Majesty.”

That quirky grin returned briefly as they exchanged a quick glance and then both burst out laughing.

“You may call me Ricardo, although Your Majesty does have a nice ring to it.”

They had reached the window. Matthew was leaning over the sill and peering at the view with great interest.
“Where is this Keep? It looks tropical, or Mediterranean.”

“
We are on the island of Sicily. That is indeed the Mediterranean Sea below. You don’t recall coming to Sicily? Or perhaps living here somewhere nearby?”

The young red
-head gazed out at the sandy shore below quietly. A puzzled expression gave way to one of resignation. “No, I don’t recall where I’ve been before waking just now.” He turned away from the view and faced Ricardo. “The only thing that seems familiar is you.”

The Duke blushed again, a common fault his
uncle had reprimanded him for many a time. “Well, let’s hope it’s a pleasant familiarity.”

“
Yes, definitely.” The grin flashed then disappeared.

The baggy wool robe he wore hid his body from neck to ankle, but Ricardo recalled with sudden clarity the slim form beneath
, which he had bathed only a few hours earlier. His cock rose beneath his trousers and throbbed. What was the matter with him? He was obsessed! Or bewitched!

“
I have some duties to attend to, Matthew. If you are able, please come down for supper later. Will you be all right for the time being?”

“
Yes, to supper and to being all right. I am pretty hungry, and I feel pretty good. I’ll just take turns resting and walking about the room until supper. Thank you for your kindness, Your Dukeness.”

He smiled and attempted a bow. They both laughed again and on that note, Ricardo left, still chuckling.

That first evening at supper, Ricardo dressed for the occasion. He wasn’t entirely sure why since he hadn’t been doing so as a habit. They had few guests, all of whom were hand-picked by his uncle. His presence at the Keep was a closely guarded secret.

He wore a long robe belted at the waist, of deep brown brocade and heavy enough to fend off the cold of the early spring evenings. It was a robe favored at the Court of their King Roger II who himself preferred many of the Moorish customs of his predecessors.

A thick chain mail necklace of woven gold and silver surrounded his neck and fell to his breast. He was bare-headed, and his thick raven hair fell in waves to hover just below his ears. The gold around his neck set off the golden sheen in his lovely eyes.

Matthew arrived in a robe provided out of Ricardo
’s own closet. Although the two were very different in build, Matthew lean and almost slight while Ricardo was husky and broad, they were of equal height. The Duke’s gown fit his mysterious guest well enough. It was of soft green and trimmed with a rich crimson. Matthew’s hair was free and although washed and brushed, fell in a tangle of small curls about the top of his head in a reddish-brown tousle. It had been cut short against his scalp around his ears and the back of his head, which was quite unusual.

The table was set simply with their everyday plate and utensils. Ricardo cared little for expensive or showy things. The food though was quite the opposite. His family was very wealthy and could afford the best of fare. He liked to eat and in this was not stingy.

Roasted fowl and rabbit, caught by either his men or himself, accompanied succulent pork and beef cuts. Dried fruits cooked in local honey and baked breads redolent of herbs joined early spring salads from nearby peasants’ gardens. He paid them well for their trouble.

Wine from the Keep
’s own cellars was mixed with cool water from the Keep’s spring.

A dozen candles flickered brightly on the heavy oak table while a fire crackled in the stone hearth beside it. Only Ricardo and Matthew dined. Everyone else at the Keep was considered a servant and thus delegated to the kitchen for their meals.

“Do you eat alone usually? That must be a little boring, I’d think.”

“
Ah, yes. Boring it would be if I didn’t have many good books to entertain myself with. I usually read at supper.”

“
Not tonight, though?”

“
You may entertain me, if you wish.”

“
How? Would you have me dance? Or sing? Or perhaps play the lyre?”

Spontaneously, the red
-head stepped away from the table and took up the lyre that leaned against the stones on the left of the hearth. He had no idea why he did it, other than perhaps because of the flush of exhilaration he felt merely upon finding himself alive and well enough to walk about and relish the thought of a meal.

He sat, a wan smile on his face, propped the instrument on his knee then began to strum it with the bow. After a few awkward notes
, a melody emerged. Lively and quite strange, too.

“
I have never heard the like,” Ricardo admitted with a grin.

“
I have no idea where I learned to play, nor where I’ve heard this song. But I like it. Does it stink?”

Ricardo threw back his head and laughed out loud.
“No, but the meal will if we leave it too long. Come, dine with me.”

They shared glances and smiles as they ate and drank, Ricardo as intrigued as ever by the stranger and Matthew equally intrigued by the very handsome Duke he found himself
with at table.

In silent agreement, they avoided the topic of Matthew
’s mysterious memory loss. Disregarding the strangeness of the situation, Ricardo chose to treat the young red-head as he would any male guest. “Tomorrow we will ride if you are feeling well enough. The fresh air will do you good. At least they always say that, don’t they?”