Tasting him on my lips sends a clear message to my cock, one I'm rarely in the mood to ignore. Climb inside him. Now, if not sooner. This wanting probably isn't healthy--at least not for me. I never want anything this much. I refuse to dwell on it any longer; he's here, he's warm and if he's not willing now, he will be in a minute.

I run my hands from their resting place in the small of his back up to his shoulders, knowing this will start to draw him out of his deep sleep. Not enough to wake him, not yet, just enough to jump start the part of his brain that controls his cock. It works; it always works and now he's starting to move. It's not much; just the slightest shift this way and that, but the end result is his shoulder tilting back and his leg shifting at the knee. He's gone from lax against me to open and offering. I never turn down offers this good.

He's sweated some during the night so I chase that flavor from his shoulder down to one nipple; the one he got pierced. I don't mess with the ring just yet; that would wake him up in a hurry. Instead I lap until the nub sharpens and then move on, tracing random paths here and there. By the time I reach his navel, he's breathing heavily through his mouth and his cock is flush with blood, mostly erect and brushing against my thigh. I don't resist the urge to weigh it with my palm, fingers curled loosely around the heated shaft. Protecting it, nestled in a secure cage. Precious goods, this; silky and thick. Thicker than mine, which I count as a blessing for more than one reason. I love sucking cock, especially thick cock that fills my mouth. There's damned little better than being crammed full of this blonde boy's dick; my jaw aching as the head rasps against the back of my throat. Then there's the feeling of this cock when it pushes inside me, filling my ass over and over. He's one of the few men who've ever fucked me, and the only one to have the honor more than once. I can't say I'll ever say that about another man. He does it well, very well, and I see no reason to replace this cock with an inferior model.

My fingers get impatient simply holding him so I stroke him gently. I can feel blood pushing in, filling out his cock. The rest of me finds itself similarly disinclined to be patient, and in a flash my head is buried between his thighs, lips stretched tight around his girth. He is warm against my tongue, throbbing slightly. Somewhere above me, he is gasping for air, his shoulders twisting into the mattress. I can feel his fingers fluttering in the air around my head as he drags himself into consciousness, trying all the while not to force my head down any farther. I wonder how long he'll wait before nudging me along, if I wait here just like I am. It's not like I have to move; he's giving me almost everything I could ask for right now. Warm cock, thick and pulsing. The flavor I've come to crave. Yeah, a bit of thrust-and-glide wouldn't hurt, nor would I mind burying my nose in his crotch for a few minutes just to enjoy his fragrance. But I can wait... a lot longer than he can anyway.

He's still panting, although the normally breathless sounds are now interspersed with faded, high-pitched whines. His hands have found me now, fingers dancing along my shoulders and over my ears. Not grabbing or pushing--just the lightest brushing strokes. Artist's fingers, whispering to me. I'm here, remember me? Tell me you haven't forgotten me. I suppress a smirk, knowing that those delicate hands will soon turn into claws, scraping and forcing me to obey them. Or trying, anyway. I'm not the master of this bed for no reason.

His merry fingers aren't quite so happy now, nipping and pushing at my skin like I was wet clay. Unfortunately for my little blonde boy's raging libido, I'm not so moldable. That doesn't mean I don't thoroughly enjoy his efforts; having his hands on me ignites something I've pretty much decided doesn't need a name. It just is, and right now it's starting to consume me. Take. Take of him; he's offering. Begging. He exists to be taken by you; just ask him. I'm going to wait; I have to wait. No choice here; if we're going to get to where I want us to be, he has to lose this round. He's clawing at me now, blunt nails leaving angry welts on my shoulders. His cock is leaking on my tongue; I can taste-smell-feel him, my senses blending into a singular experience that is Justin-in-my-mouth. I can't wait much longer; my mouth is watering constantly, my lips trying to go numb from the constant pressure. The point isn't for me to do this forever; it's to go until he is sure I'm never going to give him relief.

That moment arrives with a guttural wail and the simultaneous downpress of his hands on my head and a sharp upthrust of his hips. The movement was nothing less than what I'd expected out of him and I react as planned--pulling off his cock while pressing my chest between his thighs, shoving my shoulders underneath them and lifting his legs over my shoulders. Before he can complain about the change in his cock's living conditions, my tongue is twisting its way into his ass. That impatient growl breaks down into a shrieking whine as his hands fall to the bed, digging into the mattress. I can hear fabric protesting the strength in those hands; the sound of his silken hair scraping against a pillowcase provides a soft accompaniment to his wordless begging. I let both sounds flow past me without much regard; I'm consumed by this new part of Justin I've invited to dance across my tongue. Cloves-and-nutmeg, sweat and the very faintest trace of lube from the evening's earlier pursuits; these flavors trip and pirouette past my lips, over my teeth and fling themselves onto my taste buds. I push, thrusting mercilessly, my eyes pressed closed by the skin of his thighs and my nose stroking his perineum. I idly note how his voice is now a strangely monophonic, hollow sound--one that wouldn't be out of place in a Gregorian chant. He sounds like he's calling from the depths of a deep well, his words distorted beyond recognition.

That eerie sound is the first clue, the initial fall off what little bit of sanity he was clinging onto. I'm still waiting for that telltale sign that says his mind is utterly gone. It varies; sometimes it's the way the muscles in his back relax and drop his ass down into just the right position. Other times his eyes just sort of...fracture, all the shades of blue that constitute his irises just bleeding into a swirl of fuck-me-now. This time... this time it's the way the taste of his skin is shifting ever so slightly into that painfully sharp flavor of spice and musky darkness that forewarns the knowledgeable that Justin is just about to take leave of his senses.

And while he's thoroughly submerged in this haze of I'm-never-going-to-come, I shift upwards. He's still in la la land when I'm prepared, lubed and pressing into his hole. It's not until I'm past the first ring that he drags himself back to where I am--just in time for me to slam forward. His eyes flare open and his mouth gapes as my balls slap against his ass and the choked scream that claws its way out of his throat is down right animalistic. Now, finally, we're getting there. Inside, crawl inside. Deeper, drive deeper with your cock, with your tongue. Push, strain, thrust until you get all the way inside and find yourself there, where you've always been.

He's bent in half, ankles hooked together behind my neck so my arms are free to grip his shoulders. Every thrust is my whole body shoving its way through his, up his ass and out his mouth. My skin aches to be inside his; my mouth attacks his lips so my tongue can find its way home.

He's back to sounding like he's stuck in a well, his moans vibrating from deep in his belly. I can feel that sound from my mouth to my cock and beyond; my balls twitch and tighten as echoes reverberate between us. His hands are digging into my ass, adding extra force to each thrust. His hole clenches wantonly, tightening and loosening in concert with my cock. He wants me inside, tries to force me to stay. My own asshole flutters in sympathy with the force of our coupling. I swear I can feel his cock pushing into me as I fuck him; I'm inside him and he's inside me. If it weren't for the press of his ankles on my back and the blur of sheets behind his head, I wouldn’t know who was fucking whom right now.

I taste myself on him and him in me; his nipples tighten as his balls draw up and my body does the same. We've moved from fucking to rutting, our mutual screams drowned in each other's mouths, sweat making us clumsy. I want to slow down, to make this last; my mind is enthralled by the sensation of my cock in him and all of him inside me. My body has its own agenda. Thrust, push, come, come inside him. Mark him; he is yours. Always yours. Come inside him, make him taste like you. Make him forget everything but you. Make his existence nothing but you.

Then his teeth catch my lower lip and tug, drawing the myriad sensations my body and mind are fighting to control into one overwhelming wave. It slams into me over and over; my balls pulse and my dick throbs; I think my spine just shot out my cock. It's certainly not inside me anymore; pleasure has rendered me boneless. He's in this with me; I can feel him thick and hot inside me, shoving one more time and then comes a ghostly fluttering of liquid heat that only my mind is sure is there. My vision is blurred, focus narrowed down to a line of sweat drizzling down Justin's cheekbone, falling onto his ear.

I try to move, to no avail. Here is comfortable, even with quickly cooling semen gluing us together. I try to tell him that if he moves this way and I shift that way, we'll be on our sides and thus much more comfortable, but words will not come. Somehow we manage to move anyway, his legs and my arms sliding around until we're pressed together, chest to chest. One of us discards the condom, the other pulls up the duvet. He tucks his head under my chin and I bury my face in his hair. Legs and arms twist tightly together, leaving endless knots draped in deep blue velvet. And we sleep once again.