Wishing on a Blue Star (9 page)

“
Crash
.” Kip leaned in and pulled Crash close, slipping his hands into the waistband of his jeans. He felt a sweet heat building in the pit of his belly, like the warmth of hot coffee or even booze. Crash’s lips opened to his exploration and their tongues found one another in a delicious slip and slide of flesh, moist air, and noses pressed together. A bristly upper lip scratched like crisp crumbs on his skin.

Kip felt Crash’s surrender all the way to his toes, Crash melted around him, his skin damp with passion; sweat that—for some inexplicable reason—gave off the faint perfume of sweet-butter sugar cookies. When Kip opened his eyes, he saw that Crash’s eyes were closed in what could almost be termed ecstasy. He moved then, and broke their kiss reluctantly so he could take two bottles of beer from the refrigerator. The light from inside the fridge limned Crash’s face.

“Kip.” Crash smoothed his hand over his own forearm, looking at it as though he’d never seen it before. “My skin feels like it’s on fire.”

“Yeah?” Kip handed him a beer. Blushing, he nudged at Crash’s neck with his nose, breathing in that sweet scent and nuzzling with his lips. “Do I make you hot?”

“
Yes
,” Crash hissed, leaning in. “I burn for you.”

Kip sighed. “You say some pretty outrageous things.”

“What should I do?” Crash took the cap off the beer and smelled it. It made him wince.

“You don’t even like beer, do you?”

“No.”

“Want something else? I have some Bailey’s.” Kip raised his own beer to his lips and took a healthy swig, but Crash caught his hand and lowered the bottle, tasting the beer on his lips.

“Beer is nice, when I taste it on you. Look. I just want you, Kip. If you don’t want me then stop stalling and say so.”

Kip stared. When had he
not
wanted Crash? From the second he’d realized he wanted the boys at school and not the girls, Crash had been his holy grail. He’d learned to breathe the scent of him, to suffer through the affectionate touching, to walk and talk and smile as though he was perfectly satisfied to spend the rest of his life without ever having the one man that he wanted more than any others because… well. Because Crash wasn’t gay.
Was he?

“Crash, are you even gay?”

Crash displayed the exaggerated patience that made Kip see red. “I don’t even know what that means, gay. I am simply
yours
.”

For a fraction of a second, maybe the space of a heartbeat, Kip wanted to test Crash’s complacence; it was an itch he wanted to scratch. He wanted to push Crash over the table, shove down his jeans, and put a cock up his ass— just to do it— just to see how fast Crash changed his tune. An image came to his mind, unbidden, of fucking Crash hard and angry, looking away so he didn’t have to see the pain and disappointment in his eyes.

“Never in anger.” Crash’s hands found Kip’s face again. He felt Crash’s thumb ring bite his cheek a little to go with the admonishment. “Anything we share will be beautiful. I promise you that.”

How did Crash always seem to…

“Come on, lover, I’m not so untried as to believe that we’ll accomplish anything standing in the kitchen.”

Kip allowed himself to be led toward the bedroom, but grumbled, “Shows how much you know.”

“I know enough to know it will require me to undress you.” Crash looked at Kip from under his lashes. Teasing. Seductive. “I hope.”

Kip let the breath he’d been holding escape him as a shuddering sigh.

When they reached his room Kip left the overhead light off and lit a couple of candles. He thought maybe that would be better under the circumstances. Crash reached for him, firmly caressing his shoulders and pecs before slipping his hands over and down his chest and abs to grip the hem of Kip’s T-shirt.

“Lift your arms,” he told Kip before pulling it over his head. When Kip’s head popped from the tight neck, Crash’s face was the first thing he saw. He wore that same sweet smile, the one that said,
wherever you go, I’ll follow
, that he’d worn since they’d met in that hole.

Kip tried to calm his racing heart; it thumped like a high school drumline, echoing off his ribs. Crash placed the palm of his hand flat over it. “You’d think I’d be the nervous one.”

“Aren’t you?” Kip could hardly catch his breath. For an answer, Crash reached for Kip’s belt buckle and undid it, removing the belt and working open the button on Kip’s jeans.

“About this? No. I’m worried how you’ll look at me tomorrow. If you’ll want me again. If you’ll see me differently and whether you’ll still be my friend.”

Kip caught Crashes hands. “This makes things weird.”

Crash shook Kip’s hands off. “When was it ever
not
weird.”

He slid Kip’s zipper down, and for a moment, Kip worried that he’d misread the situation. That Crash had a lot more experience than he’d ever let on. Crash pushed Kip’s jeans and briefs down and his cock sprang free.

Kip groaned when Crash’s hands wrapped around it. “It’s like velvet,” Crash whispered.

Kip fought a snort of nervous laughter. He toed off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans. “Not much different than yours,” he murmured, embarrassed.

“You know that’s not true.”

Yes
. He did know. Crash and Kip had innocently compared their cocks— while pissing— when they were just boys, since Kip was cut and Crash wasn’t. That had led to an interesting discussion in the Rush household and they’d been told to be more modest in the future. Crash had always taken that to the extreme. While he might have been forced to urinate in front of other boys in public bathrooms, Kip realized he’d never once seen Crash in the nude. They’d never even been swimming together. Crash claimed he was afraid of the water.

“I mean how it feels. Crap, why is this suddenly so—”

Crash kissed him again, this time with one hand wrapped around his cock, pulling his hot hand along the length gently, sliding his fingers down to explore his balls. Kip thought he might have died and gone to heaven.

Crash laughed against his lips, a deep, throaty sound that vibrated over Kip’s skin like the light buzz of static electricity.

“Why am I the only one undressed,” Kip reached for the collar of Crash’s button down shirt. “You’re such a geek.” He undid the tiny pearlescent buttons and found Crash wore an undershirt. Kip raised his eyebrows. “You dress like a missionary.”

“I get cold,” Crash defended himself. Kip saw his cheeks color.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Kip removed the first shirt and grasped the hem of his white v-neck.

Crash stopped his hands. “Stop. Wait—”

Kip’s heart froze. He fully expected Crash had changed his mind the second it came down to skin on skin. And damn, he’d gotten this close. He could almost still feel Crash’s hand on his cock.
Shit
.

Kip let go of Crash’s undershirt. “I’m sorry. It’s okay.”

Crash still had hold of Kip’s hands. “No. I just wanted to say… No one has ever seen me entirely without clothes. Well. Except my family. Doctors. It might be…”

“It’s all right. You don’t have to be shy.” Kip waited for what seemed like an eternity for Crash to say more. “Is it all right?”

“Yes.” Crash relaxed a little, but when Kip indicated Crash had to let go of him to take his T-shirt off, he didn’t seem to understand at first. Then it seemed to dawn on him and he dropped his hand. “
Oh
.”

Kip’s heart did a little tumble when Crash blushed again, lifting his arms as the shirt came off. His let his hands explored that amazing expanse of pristine, creamy white skin. They circled around to Crash’s back to pull him close; there, his fingers encountered a territory of transition, smooth, slick, and then rough, nearly plasticine skin. He stopped what he was doing and frowned.

“I have scars.” Crash admitted. “On my back. From a fire.”

“What?” Kip turned Crash around. Crash’s entire upper back— the area surrounding his shoulder blades, up towards his neck and downward nearly to his waist—was covered in ugly, rough scars that looked like nothing so much as gum, chewed and stuck haphazardly on his skin, pushed down and flattened, but shiny and red. As different from his pale skin as night from day. Kip’s stomach lurched. “
Fuck me
. What happened?”

“It was before I met you. I was burned.”

Kip’s hands traveled over the ruined skin.
That was the understatement of the century.
Crash had been… melted. As if he’d backed into a blast furnace. “It must have been horribly painful. You’ve never mentioned a word. Did your house catch fire?” Kip couldn’t stop himself from touching it, smoothing his hands over it. As if he could heal it.

Crash frowned. “No. Not the house.” Crash’s voice sounded rough.  ”I… I reached for something I wanted and didn’t think of the consequences. No one but me was hurt.”

“Oh,
Crash
.” Kip’s hands caressed Crash’s scars, then his lips. He kissed each shoulder blade where it stuck out, because they seemed to be where the worst of the damage had occurred. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Crash spoke to the ground. “It was a long time ago.”

“That’s why you never swim.” Kip rested his head on Crash’s shoulder and reached around to the fastenings of his chinos. He unbuttoned them, slipping his hands into Crash’s serviceable underwear to mold his hands to that heavy, uncut cock. “Did you at least get what you wanted?”

“Yes,” Crash whispered. “Finally, I think. Yes.”

Kip pushed Crash’s pants and underwear off his hips, kneeling and helping him off with his shoes and socks until they stood facing each other, completely unclothed.

“You’re beautiful,” Crash spoke first. “Exactly as I imagined you.”

“Crash.” Kip swallowed hard. “You’re perfect.”

“Hardly,” Crash rolled his eyes. “The crispy bits aren’t very attractive are they?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Kip leaned in to kiss him once again, gently at first, and then more passionately, as he pressed Crash backwards toward his bed. “You’re perfect. Perfectly…perfect.”

Crash sat first, then lay back on the small mattress. “I’m perfectly happy,” he admitted shyly, “to be here with you like this.”

Kip cupped Crash’s cock then, drawing the loose foreskin over and down as the plum colored head emerged, slick from where it hid. He thumbed the slit, rubbing around and over the surface, watching Crash’s face as he reacted to the touch.

Crash moaned and lifted his hips, pushing his cock into Kip’s fist. “That feels so…”

On impulse Kip leaned over and ran the flat of his tongue across the shiny purple skin, slipping and sliding his hand until he was teasing the flesh inside the foreskin, and tasting Crash’s essence. Crash jumped like he’d been struck by lightning and his hands clamped down on the sides of Kips head.

Kip didn’t think that was a
no
…

“Kip.” Crash’s voice pleaded. “Holy…
Kip
.”

Kip continued, excited by Crash’s need. He changed his angle and took Crash deeper, drawing off hard, with lots of suction, then teasing with his tongue as he took Crash in again, deep enough to bury the tip of his nose in the thatch of curly blond hair above his cock.

The scent he’d found so intriguing on Crash’s skin—the rich, vanilla-infused butter and sweet of sugar cookies—appeared concentrated in the folds of skin where Crash’s legs met his torso but underlying it was the scent of a fully aroused man. Kip couldn’t stop himself from using the heels of his hands to push Crash’s thighs apart and explore his balls. He pulled first one into his mouth, then the other, sucking them, then nudging them away with his nose as he slipped his tongue beneath them to the strip of skin above Crash’s pink, puckered hole. Then he returned his lips to Crash’s cock, working the length, bobbing and twisting until Crash let out a warble of shock as Kip ran a wet finger over his entrance.

“Feels so good,” Crash writhed and licked his lips, gripping the sheets in both hands.

Kip rumbled a groan of his own, transmitting the sound and vibration through Crash’s skin. “So hot,” he murmured against the velvet length.

Crash arched as Kip allowed him to drive into his mouth in his own rhythm. He found he quite like the desperate edge of Crash’s passion and the way his voice turned needy and sweet as he begged.

“Please.” Crash practically sizzled as his balls drew up. “Please, Kip.”

“Please, what?” Kip teased gently, loving the jerky movements that accompanied Crash’s uncharacteristic loss of control.

“I don’t know.” Crash thrashed, hot and breathless. “Just…
Please
.”

Kip swallowed Crash’s cock as far as he could and pressed a finger into his hole. Crash nearly blew apart in his hands, shuddering, squeezing his finger and shooting come down his throat. When Kip looked up, his gaze met eyes so amazed he paused for a minute. The expression on Crash’s face was… Well. That was
innocence
. He’d— not only— never been sucked off before, he looked like he’d never even…

How could that be possible
? Kip lost all concentration and choked.
Great.
He’d be in the paper the next day, having choked to death while fellating a lover. Good thing he could only aspirate the jiz and not the entire dick. He pulled off coughing, and felt Crash’s hands firmly rubbing his back.

Crash still breathed like a racehorse and he couldn’t hide his chuckle. “Well. This is awkward.”

Kip buried his head into Crash’s lap and tried to tell himself he wasn’t hiding. His voice muffled, he said, “Crash, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

Kip coughed again, clearing his throat. His eyes teared up. Crash’s soft hands never stopped moving over his skin, and the result was so satisfying. It soothed him like water lapping against the side of a boat, or the trickling of a fountain.

When he finally had got his breath back he asked, “Have you ever been with anyone?” He hoped Crash wouldn’t confuse things by being coy. Crash would know what he meant. Crash always knew.

“No.”

“Do you ever jerk off?”

“No.”

“While you sleep? Did you ever…?”

This earned Kip a blush. “Yes.” Crash looked away. “Sometimes I dream.”