Stung: Winter Special (4 page)

“Always cruel,
right?” Crunch slowly pumped Victor’s dick, delighting in how needy
he seemed. He pushed his hips forward, against the lean
buttocks.

“No, you’re
not!” Victor smiled at him, and the soft touch at Crunch’s ribs
made him jerk in even deeper.

“No? How am I
then? Tell me,” he demanded. His balls tightened when he started
moving in a languid, circular motion that made the cock in Crunch’s
hand twitch.

“You’re kind...
like that boy that let you have him all those years ago,” breathed
Victor, hardly keeping the grin at bay as his body darkened with
excitement.

“Cheeky git.”
Crunch grabbed the sides of Victor’s thighs and pushed in all the
way to the root.

“See?” gasped
Victor as his eyes closed. “You are most kind to give me all of
that cock.”

All Victor got
in reply was a kiss. One that forced him to open his lips and
invite Crunch’s tongue. It was heated and just as sweet as Dal
Honey. Crunch pulled his cock out slowly, just to slam it back in,
never letting their lips part.

Victor clung to
him, his muscles twitching as he held on for dear life, all the
remarks and teasing gone like dust in the wind. He kept falling
down to the mattress, gasping, only to arch up again for more of
Crunch’s lips. The searing heat of their bodies was enough to fill
their minds and mute them to everything else.

When Crunch was
approaching this house just a few hours ago, his most daring
fantasies weren’t bold enough to envision ending up in bed with
Victor so soon. It was hard to dwell on it though when his lover’s
anus clenched on his cock to deliciously, as if it was hungry for
his spunk. To confirm that, Victor jerked on the bed with a low
moan, and reached for his cock like it was on fire. Maybe it
was.

“Oh, yeah, I
wanna watch ya toss off,” Crunch groaned and let his thrusts
quicken, jabbing right into Victor’s tight hole time after time.
The smell of sweat was getting him even more excited.

Victor gave him
a sheepish grin and put his hand into motion while brushing the
other over Crunch’s tense stomach. The sudden petting sent a jolt
of pleasure straight to his balls.

“Oh, fuck, you
sweet, sweet devil,” Crunch moaned, pushing Victor farther down,
folding him in half for an assault on his arse. For once, his gaze
slid away from Victor’s face to his dick, and Crunch watched
without blinking. Bliss was only seconds away. He came the moment a
spurt of warm cum hit his neck. Victor gave a yelp, clamping down
on him and arching his body into Crunch’s.

Crunch shut his
eyes for the last few thrusts, pushing down even harder to catch
Victor’s lips in a kiss. His mind went white and empty, focused
only on pleasure and the smell of spunk. Warm arms closed around
him like a vice and locked him in place.

“So good,”
whimpered Victor into his mouth.

“I love
seein’ya’appy.” Crunch nuzzled his cheek without opening his
eyes.

“I can give you
a picture of me, so you can look at it every day.”

“I’d ’ave to
hide it.” Crunch slowly forced his eyelids open. He didn’t want to
think about going back just yet. Not with Victor still boiling hot
in his arms.

“I know. Will
you?” From up close, he could only see the hazy look in Victor’s
eyes, but his every breath was warm on Crunch’s mouth.

“I will. I
can’t resist being able to have a look at ya every day.”

Victor let out
a sharp breath and let his legs slide down to Crunch’s hips without
ever breaking eye contact. “I’m going to miss you most
terribly.”

“Don’t talk
about parting when my cock’s only left ya seconds ago,” Crunch
moaned and pushed his forehead against Victor’s arm. The boy’s
hands were soft and gentle on him, but then Victor turned his head
to the side and kissed Crunch’s ear.

“Sorry.”

“We can talk
about now. About yar new show. Or, even better, take a nap and fuck
again later, huh?” Crunch kissed a mole under Victor’s lip.

Victor nestled
in his arms with a lazy grin. “How long can you stay? Maybe you
could make it to a show?”

“I dunno. A few
days if I’m lucky.” Crunch sighed and closed his eyes. His heart
picked up its pace when the soft mane of Victor’s hair brushed his
neck. Slowly, the boy was tangling his limbs all over Crunch’s
body.

“I want you to
see me perform. You’d like it.”

“I’d fall
asleep after fuckin’ya in yar dressing room.”

Victor chuckled
and brushed his fingers over the back of Crunch’s head. His warmth
was slowly overcoming Crunch’s mind, as if hundreds of tiny spiders
were weaving a cocoon around his brain and cradling him to sleep.
He closed his arms around Victor, just to be sure the boy wouldn’t
slip away.

Crunch smiled
as he chewed on a delightful scone with clotted cream and jam. He
asked Victor whether he had honey, but the boy wasn’t impressed by
the teasing. Crunch had a feeling that it was rude to eat in
Victor’s room and pay no respect to Mr Sheppard senior, but he
figured Victor knew what he was doing. And Crunch would probably
not be able to ogle his lover in a nightshirt otherwise. He kept
getting distracted and yearned to slide a hand under the fabric.
Victor was so… available. The garment slid up his thighs as he
casually leaned back in his chair, and the knowledge that bowing
down would be enough to see Victor’s family jewels got Crunch into
the state of pleasant pre-arousal. The boy smiled at him over his
sandwich as he picked up a small folder and pushed it across the
table into Crunch’s reach.

“Pick one.”

Crunch raised
his eyebrows, but opened the folder. He started browsing through
photographs of Victor in all his finery. Crunch had never seen him
in clothes that fancy. Victor even had stage makeup on in some of
them. He never knew anyone who romanced someone so unusual, so
fine. Crunch drew in a sharp breath when warm fingers stroked his
hand.

“You could have
more if you can’t decide.”

Crunch looked
down at a photograph of Victor with kohl-rimmed eyes and a collar
made of feathers. “Most of ’em don’t look like ya.”

Victor grinned
at him. “How come?”

Crunch gently
poked Victor’s ankle with his bare foot. “I dunno. Yar not such a
peacock. And on the subject of cocks, I’d rather see ya naked in
one of those pictures.”

“Would you
now?” Victor narrowed his eyes with a sly smile. “That could be
arranged. Wouldn’t they be too obvious though?”

Crunch pouted.
They would. But he still wanted them. He chewed on his scone, while
watching Victor rise to his feet and walk over to a bookshelf. “Do
you have one of yourself?” he asked, pulling out two volumes and
reaching deeper into the shelf, past the row of books.

Crunch swatted
his hand at him. “Nah, why would I?” he asked with his mouth
full.

Victor pulled
out a small copper case and sighed. “To give one to me?”

Crunch wasn’t
sure what to say to that. He knew Victor found him fuck-worthy, but
he wouldn’t say he was exactly a picturesque kind of man. “Hmm…”
was all he had in him for the time being.

“What? I could
keep it on my dressing table.” Victor sat back by the table, set
the case in front of him and moved his finger over the front. There
was a quiet, metallic clang, and the lid jerked up, uncovering the
contents of the decorative box.

“I doubt yar
pop would fancy that.” Crunch said, but leaned back, wary of the
machine.

“Silly, it
wouldn’t be indecent. I would keep the indecent one here, with the
rest of my personal collection,” Victor said with a grin and pulled
a photograph out of the box.

Crunch felt his
cheeks go aflame at the sight of Victor laying in bed and stroking
himself. He swallowed and eagerly held out his hand. “I’ll take
that.”

“Will you?”
Victor’s eyes glinted when he moved the hand back, taking the
picture out of Crunch’s reach.

“I sure will! I
know yar ways now. Ya can’t steal from me.” Crunch laughed and got
up from the chair, to be sure Victor wouldn’t be able to run
away.

“I can’t
believe it. You prefer me to scones.” Victor leaned back in the
chair, fanning himself with the photo.

“Yar my scone!”
Crunch snorted at how cheesy that sounded, and in two steps, he was
right next to Victor, grabbing his hand, much to Victor’s apparent
delight.

His eyes were
glowing when he cupped the side of Crunch’s face with his other
hand. “Just don’t bite... too hard.”

“That’s not ’ow
I eat my scones. I like to suck out the lemon curd first,” Crunch
said and slowly kneeled, never taking his eyes off Victor’s.

The boy’s smile
froze and then softened as he leaned forward, capturing Crunch’s
lips in a gentle kiss. “I want to have one of you too. Will you let
me take it?”

Crunch took a
deep breath. “Go on then.”

Victor’s breath
rasped against Crunch’s lips. “Now?”

“I’d rather
suck that curd first.” Crunch wiggled his eyebrows and looked on as
Victor raised the fabric of his nightshirt, uncovering the soft
cock and balls laying on a bed of dark hair and soft skin.

“I’d love to
have you do it to me again, Mr Crunch.”

Crunch sucked
on his lip at the sound of those words. The way Victor said his
nickname made him feel all-important. “Can’t leave yawantin’ then,
can I?”

“No, you can’t.
You can’t resist me.” Victor’s voice was suddenly very quiet, with
a rasp Crunch hadn’t quite heard from him before. The moment he
leaned in, the room resonated with a loud tweet, and Victor
slouched with a curse passing through his plump mouth.

Crunch pulled
out from under the nightshirt. “What was that?”

“Someone’s at
the door,” muttered Victor, and when the tweeting persisted, he
gave Crunch an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it seems important.”

“Fuck,” Crunch
growled and instantly got to his feet. It had to happen just when
his cock was getting ready for another go.

Victor rushed
for the door and unlocked it, opening it to the footman, whose face
didn’t express any thought he might possibly have about the setup
in the bedroom.

“What is it,
Snipes?” asked Victor.

Crunch scowled
and put a hand over his face as he conspicuously walked over to an
armchair in the corner. Victor had no shame.

“There are some
gentlemen at the door, asking to see…” The footman cleared his
throat, “Mr Crunch?”

Victor looked
back to him with a slight frown, but the commotion in the corridor
was unmistakable. Men in studded boots were coming for him. The
footman didn’t even manage to fully turn back when two tall
soldiers in leather barged in, their eyes setting on Crunch.

One of the men
looked Victor up and down in a way that made Crunch’s skin crawl.
How dare he judge Victor in his own house? Crunch wanted to smack
him, but he reluctantly reached for his boots, already remembering
just how cold it was outside. “Let me guess, it stopped
snowing?”

“Yeah, that
too, but we’ll have time to talk on the way back,” said one of the
other commanders. He usually only visited Honeyhill, but it seemed
something important was going on to make him come here
personally.

“Why the rush?”
Victor’s voice was loud and clear. “Why don’t you gentlemen stay
for lunch?”

The other
soldier, whose name Crunch didn’t even know, put his hands in his
pockets still with that stupid, knowing grin on his face. Crunch
dressed as quickly as possible.

“Thank you, Mr
Sheppard, but I’m afraid this can’t wait,” said the commander.

Victor cleared
his throat. “Why don’t you wait downstairs then? It’ll be more
comfortable.”

“It’s fine,”
Crunch muttered. “I have to go, Victor.” He took a deep breath and
buckled up his leather jacket. There was no point in artificially
extending the visit. Lingering would only make him feel worse. He
couldn’t get over the fact that he almost got to suck his morning
dessert, something he wouldn’t be able to do until their next
meeting God-knew-when.

There was
silence after that statement, four pairs of eyes watching Crunch’s
every move and making his stomach curl. His mind was frantically
making up what to tell the other soldiers in case they asked. But
when he looked up at his comrades, ready to go, he noticed the
soldier glancing at the table with a pout. His blood went cold when
he realised Victor’s photograph was still there. Crunch walked up
in a few quick strides and slammed his hand over the picture.

“Not a word.”
He gritted his teeth and put the photo inside his jacket. He was
not losing out on a picture of Victor tossing off because of some
knobhead who should be minding his own business.

Only then he
realised Victor hasn’t said a thing since Crunch dismissed his
attempts to send the men downstairs. He was by the fireplace, quiet
and blank-faced as he watched the colourful tiles with unabashed
interest.

The soldier put
his hands up defensively, but kept smirking. “Whatever you…”

“Shut it,” said
the commander. “You’ve got two minutes, Crunch.”

Crunch lingered
around the table, awkwardly looking to Victor as the men left. In
the sudden silence, the sound of the crackling fire seemed to mute
everything else. Victor’s arms slouched the moment the door
closed.

“I’m sorry, I
’ave to go.” Crunch sighed and walked up to hug him.

Victor met him
with a deep, breathless kiss, sliding his arms around Crunch’s neck
like he never wanted to let him go. It stole all the air out of
Crunch’s lungs, and it didn’t matter anymore that he didn’t know
what to say. He hugged Victor tight, wishing he’d had a lot more
time to spend in his bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of him, and
now that he got another dose, it would be even harder to stop
thinking about him.