A Most Personal Property (Ganymede Quartet Book 1) (47 page)

“It’s near where you’re touching, Sir…” Martin twisted his hips against Henry’s hand and shivered.

Henry knew for certain that he’d found it because Martin sucked in a shocked, happy breath and moaned. “Oh, god, Henry, that’s it, right there…” He groaned, thighs quivering, and leaned forward to brace his hands against Henry’s chest. Milky fluid seeped from his cock to puddle on Henry’s belly.

Henry kept touching the firm spot, slightly in awe of how intensely it seemed to affect Martin. “Am I doing it right?”

“You’re doing it perfectly, Sir. What you’re doing feels so good.” Martin had spots of pink high in his cheeks, feverish.

“What is it?” Henry asked. “What am I doing?”

Martin whimpered and threw his head back. “Oh! Oh, Sir!” More droplets of white fluid fell onto Henry’s skin. “It’s a gland, Sir,” he said breathlessly. “It feels good if you rub it.”

If it was a gland, then maybe it wasn’t specific to Martin. “Do I have one, too?”

Martin laughed, a breathy chuckle. “You do, Sir. I’ll find it for you if you’d like.”

Henry wasn’t at all sure he wanted Martin touching his asshole or putting anything inside. He wasn’t ready to admit he was a fairy, and he was squeamish besides. Martin’s hole was so pretty, so appealing, but he had no idea what his own might be like, and suspected it wasn’t nearly so nice.

“Tell me what it feels like,” he said, crooking his fingers inside Martin’s body.

Martin shuddered and squeezed Henry’s sides with his knees. “Oh! Well, Sir, it feels like I’m going to come, like I’m right on the verge, but the feeling just lasts and lasts until I can’t take it anymore and I need to come for real.” He gave a little grunt and sat back against Henry’s hand. “I’ll show you, Sir. You’ll like it, I promise.”

It sounded frightening and overwhelming, and it would require that he let Martin finger his asshole. “No,” he said. “No thank you.”

Martin cocked his head and looked at Henry, surprised. “Are you sure, Henry? Anything you do for me, anything you can think of, I’ll be happy to do for you. All you have to do is ask.”

Henry shook his head. “No thank you,” he said again, though he worried it might seem that he wasn’t grateful for the things Martin wanted to show him.

Martin moaned and let his head fall forward, his hair obscuring his face. He made little movements of his hips, bearing down on Henry’s fingers. “You doing this for me, Sir, touching me like this…you really want to treat me like a lover, don’t you, Sir?”

Henry nodded vigorously. “I do,” he asserted. And then he flushed a furious red when he added, “I-I just want to make you come. I want to know all the ways to make you come.”

Martin beamed at him and his hole clenched around Henry’s fingers.

“Oh, I’ll enjoy showing you, Sir!” He laughed and ran his hands over Henry’s chest. “I’ll show you all the things I like, and I know you’ll like them, too.”

Henry thought of his fantasy, of putting his mouth in unprecedented places and wondered if that was something Martin would allow. Feeling Martin’s hole tight and slippery around his knuckles made him want to lick the taut skin, but he was afraid to ask, because what if Martin thought he was disgusting? He blurted, “You say you’re a dirty boy, but just how dirty
are
you?” and felt his face grow even hotter.

Martin grinned down at him. “I’m
filthy
, Sir.” He reached back and wrapped his hand around Henry’s cock and gave it a squeeze. Henry moaned and Martin closed his eyes, trembling, as another surge of fluid wet the head of his cock. “Oh,
Henry
! Can I have your cock now, Sir? Please?”

Henry blushed and said, “You can have whatever you want.” He slid his fingers out of Martin’s body and smiled, pleased, when Martin made a little forlorn sound at their removal.

Martin slicked Henry’s cock with oil and eased himself back onto it, lowering himself along its length, spreading his thighs wide apart. Henry was shocked anew at how good it felt, so tight and slippery and hot. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to this, and he didn’t want to—it should always be breathtaking.

Martin groaned and threw his head back, then bent forward to kiss Henry, thorough and sweet. “When you fuck me, Sir,” Martin confided, “your cock hits that spot over and over and it makes me crazy, it feels so good. I think we were made for each other, I really do, the way we fit together.” He pushed himself up, hands braced on Henry’s shoulders, arms straight, elbows locked. “Let me make you feel good, Sir.” He raised his ass until only the tip of Henry’s cock remained inside his body, then plunged down again to slam against Henry’s hips. The bed creaked and groaned beneath them, the headboard banging against the wall each time Marin bounced up and then came down hard.

“Do you like this, Sir?” Martin gasped, “Do you like fucking my ass?”

Henry’s face went hot, but he stammered out, “Y-yes.”

“Say it, Henry. Tell me what you like.”

Henry took a deep breath and let it out. He said, “I-I like f-fucking your ass,” in a tentative, furtive whisper, but it seemed to make Martin happy. Henry burned crimson at his own brazen words, but he was more comfortable doing bold things than talking about them. He took hold of Martin’s ass with both hands and pulled him down, squeezing the cheeks and lifting his hips to thrust his cock in deep. Martin cried out and clutched at Henry’s shoulders and ground himself down on Henry’s cock. Henry drew him down to lie against his chest and kissed him hungrily, breathless and overwhelmed but trying frantically to adjust to this marvelous new reality.

He was overcome with the urge to buck and thrust, to force himself deeper into Martin’s body, and he gathered Martin close and rolled him over onto his back, coming to lie on top of him.

“C-can I fuck you? Is that okay?” he stammered out, embarrassed by his own boldness but compelled by desire to act, to assert himself.

Martin shuddered beneath him, his ass clenching around Henry’s cock. “Do whatever you want, Sir!”

Given permission, Henry drove into him, and he thought of the spot he’d been rubbing, the gland, and tried to aim his cock for that place, and Martin let out a forlorn wail and clutched at his arms.

“Is it good?” Henry asked, keeping his voice low. “What I’m doing? Is it good?”

Martin laughed, gasping. “Oh, god, Sir,
Henry
, it’s wonderful!
Please
, don’t stop!”

Henry kept trying things, shifting position and changing his grip, always trying to fit more of himself inside of Martin, and always aiming for Martin’s mysterious tender gland, and in watching Martin’s face, he thought that sometimes he was finding it. He was kneeling with his thighs outside Martin’s hips, his hands pressing the backs of Martin’s thighs down and apart, when Martin began to call his name with some urgency.

“Henry,
Henry
, oh, god, Henry, I’m—”

He dug his fingers into Henry’s wrists and threw his head back and came, his untouched cock jerking against his belly, and Henry was shocked and amazed. At this unprecedented sight, his own arousal spiked to an unsustainable level and he came, too, grinding his hips against Martin’s ass.

When he’d caught his breath, Henry asked, “How…how did that happen?” And then, before Martin could answer, he added, “I didn’t even know that
could
happen.”

Martin smiled up at him and petted his forearms. “It just happens sometimes, Sir. I don’t know why. It just feels so good.”

“It’s happened to you before, then?”

“Not often, Sir. I think it must have happened because you and I are so well-suited. I’ve mentioned, Sir, how much I like your cock!”

Henry blushed, happy and shy, and ducked his head, unable to meet Martin’s eyes. The way Martin talked to him, so bold and free with the compliments, so forthright and lustful, represented more acceptance than Henry had ever dared hope for. Still kneeling at Martin’s hips, Henry’s cock softened to the point that it slipped from Martin’s body and they both winced, regretful at the separation.

“Lie down with me, Sir.” Martin held his arms open for Henry, who curled at his side. “Let’s rest a minute,” Martin suggested, kissing Henry’s forehead. “Do you think you’ll want to try again? Even after what we just did, I’m not through wanting you, Sir. I feel it every bit as much as I did before.”

Henry was immensely flattered, and his cock jerked at Martin’s words. “I’ll do it again. I’ll do it as often as you want,” he promised.

Martin rolled on top of him and kissed him, stretching their arms overhead. His mouth was hot and sweet, his tongue slick and darting, and he made greedy little grunts, wanton sounds that made Henry believe Martin really did want him as much as he said he did. Henry held tightly to him, clutching at his shoulders and ass. Martin shuddered in Henry’s arms and buried his face in Henry’s neck, moving against him with sinuous motions of his hips. It had only been a few minutes since he’d come, but Henry was already half-hard again, Martin’s cock sliding alongside his own in a slick smear of their mingled fluids. Henry whimpered, helplessly aroused, nearly overwhelmed by these physical sensations and Martin’s intoxicating aura.

After a few minutes more, Martin broke off kissing him and sat up, kneeling astride Henry’s hips. His cock stood nearly vertical before his belly and he had high color in his cheeks, breathing hard through parted lips. He reached back to wrap his fingers around Henry’s prick, squeezing it hard and straight.

“Will you fuck me again, Sir? I want you to fuck me as hard as you can.”

“Really?” Henry’s immediate thought was that he didn’t want to hurt Martin, but it was becoming clear that Martin didn’t care terribly much about being hurt.

“Please, Henry. Hard and steady until you make me come.” He pawed around in the bedding until he came up with the oil bottle and put it in Henry’s hand. “Here, Sir, get me ready.” He turned his back to Henry and dropped to all fours, arching his back insistently and offering Henry his ass.

Henry got up and knelt between Martin’s feet and looked down at his perfect hole. Martin shuddered and murmured Henry’s name and his hole clenched against nothing, and Henry understood that every twitch and spasm was because Martin wanted Henry’s cock filling him, and this realization took Henry’s breath away. He poured oil onto his shaking hand and then touched Martin’s body with his slippery fingers, his touch too tentative for Martin, who gave an impatient grunt and thrust his hips back against Henry’s hand.

“Get me ready, Sir,” Martin murmured. “Two fingers.” He dropped down to his elbows, making his offer more blatant.

Henry did as he was told and looked down in awe at Martin’s flesh stretched taut around his knuckles, and felt even more strongly that he wanted to lick him here, but worried that such a thing would be too dirty for even his dirty boy. His own very hard cock nudged against Martin’s balls. He caressed Martin’s hip with his free hand and squeezed his ass cheek. He wanted to bite him there, on the fullness of his buttock. He couldn’t help it: he wanted to put his mouth on every part of Martin.

“That’s enough, Sir,” Martin said, his voice breathy and pressured. “That’s good.”

Henry withdrew his fingers, already missing the squeeze but excited to feel it around his cock. He shifted his weight from one knee to the other and positioned himself to push inside Martin’s body, but Martin had one more request.

“Spit on me, Sir,” Martin urged. When Henry hesitated, he said, “Go on, Sir, spit!”

“I-I could get more oil…” Henry began hesitantly.

“No, Sir,” Martin said firmly, shaking his head so that his hair fell over his face. “It’s not that. I just want you to spit on me with your dirty mouth.” He reached back and squeezed Henry’s thigh and arched his back further still. “Spit on me and fuck me hard.”

Blood roared in Henry’s ears. He looked down at Martin’s wonderful, vulnerable, tender hole and was seized with the absolute conviction that spitting and licking were close enough to be interchangeable, and that he should do whatever he wanted. He dug his thumbs into Martin’s cheeks, pulling them wide, and bent to press his mouth to Martin’s hole in a wet, passionate kiss.

With the first sweep of his tongue over Martin’s hole, Martin shouted in surprise. “
Henry!
” He jerked violently, but he didn’t try to get away, and he didn’t try to make Henry stop. Instead, he moaned wantonly, spread his thighs further apart, and thrust his hips back against Henry’s jaw. Henry licked him everywhere in a hurry, still afraid he’d be made to stop and wanting to try everything he could think of before that happened. Martin tasted of human salt, olive oil, and a faint muskiness that Henry found almost unbearably exciting. In just a square inch of skin, Martin’s body offered such varied textures to Henry’s tongue: the corrugated wrinkles of the pucker, the smooth, taut skin surrounding it, and the wiry roughness of the sparse hairs in the cleft. He painted all of it with his spit, worked his tongue into every crevice, and thrilled to the feeling of Martin’s muscles bunching and twitching beneath his lips. What he was doing was, at least in his experience, completely
unheard
of
, and surely more forbidden than even sucking a cock. In putting his mouth on Martin’s hole, he was defying everyone and pleasing himself, and this realization was thrilling and immensely satisfying.

“Oh,
Sir
,” Martin panted. “Sir,
please
! It feels too good!” Muscles clenched against the tip of Henry’s tongue and Martin was vibrating with tension. Henry’s own body was nearly numb with thrumming energy, a loop of sensation traveling from his busy tongue to his own painfully-throbbing cock.

“
Please
, Sir!” Martin’s voice was muffled against the bedding. “Henry,
Henry
,
please
fuck me!”

Henry didn’t feel like he was finished with Martin’s ass, but he did as Martin wanted, lifting his face from between his cheeks with a fond final lick. Martin’s hole was shiny and wet with mingled spit and oil, and Henry hoped it would be slick enough for his cock. Perhaps Martin didn’t care if he got hurt, but Henry did. As he knelt at Martin’s hips, Martin was begging,
Please, Sir, please, please,
and writhing with his chest on the bed and ass in the air, the muscles in his thighs quivering. Henry trailed his fingers up and down the cleft of Martin’s ass and Martin sobbed his name and shuddered, his upraised hips ticking in impatient jerks.