A Solid Core of Alpha (29 page)

“And that’s why I have to say no,” C.J. muttered. His heart wasn’t in it, but Christ, he was trying.

“That’s why you have to say yes!” Anderson countered. “You don’t get it! I was out there in that crowd, and I was thinking, ‘If you humidify the skin to X degree and send a slight current along the outer edge, you can reproduce the feeling of this hand along my abdomen, this body against my back, this touch along my face. If you institute an algorithm for motion, air, sound, and sight, you can reproduce the feeling of being here, and you’d never know, ever know, ever know that this wasn’t real, and you could dance here, get your cock sucked here, get fucked into the ground here to the music and the lights forever and forever and forever….’”

C.J.’s heart wanted to explode. “It was
real
!”
he shouted. “It was all
real
! None of those people were holograms, they were
people
—”

“The only one who felt real to me was
you
!”

CJ. closed his eyes and backed up against the wall. “That’s why this is bad,” he whispered. “I can’t be your only option.”

Anderson was suddenly close enough for C.J. to feel his body heat, close enough to feel the pillowy lips tracing his jaw, a breath away from nuzzling the hollow of his neck.
Ah, God….

“I know you’re not the only option,” Anderson murmured back. His breath tickled the inside of C.J.’s ear, and C.J. couldn’t help it. He shuddered, his almost instant erection aching. Anderson felt the shudder, insinuated himself closer, flickered his tongue along C.J.’s lips and then pulled away when C.J. opened his mouth in spite of his very best intentions.

“You’re the best option,” Anderson said into C.J.’s other ear, and C.J.’s knees went weak. It was wrong, and twisted, and C.J. wanted it oh-so-bad.

“Anderson….” It was a plea, but not even C.J. knew whether it was a plea to stop or to keep going. It didn’t matter. Anderson had made his own decisions for ten plus years, and he made this one.

This time when his tongue teased C.J.’s lips, C.J. opened his mouth, allowing Anderson’s tongue inside. Anderson took C.J.’s face in his hands, deepening the kiss, pushing forward until their bodies were mashed together and C.J.’s carefully constructed levee of restraint crumbled to dust and desire.

He pulled back from the kiss, took Anderson’s face in
his
hands, and whirled, pushing Anderson up against the slightly concave wall and taking his mouth with all of the passion and fury he’d been crushing back.

Anderson tasted dark and bright, smoky and clean, like fear and aggression and the sweet, powerful kick of the fruit juice and alcohol he’d consumed before jumping into the dance mob. C.J. took his mouth, took everything Anderson had been offering him for two months, ground his crotch against Anderson’s hip and groaned.

Anderson ground back, kissed back, groaned into his mouth and begged. His hands started fumbling with C.J.’s tank, pushing it up past the midriff, and C.J. pulled back and gulped air.

“Room,” he panted. “We’re like… four doors down….”

Anderson groaned and thrust his hips against C.J.’s thigh; his cock was rampant and erect under his tight bodysuit. “If you chicken out on me,” he rasped, “I’ll never forgive you.”

C.J. could barely see, he needed so badly. “No,” he muttered. “No.”

He grabbed Anderson’s hand then and turned blindly toward the dark blue door on the other side of the beige corridor. They sprinted, and C.J. held his hand up to the vacuum lock panel with so much shaking impatience that it took longer than usual to recognize his palm print and open the door. Anderson used the time to stand on tiptoe and suckle C.J.’s earlobe, and C.J. was almost insane by the time the familiar “swoosh” echoed down the corridor.

They fell into the apartment, kissing hard, their hands rough and clumsy on each other’s bodies. It didn’t matter—every brush of Anderson’s hands on C.J.’s skin made C.J. gasp, and C.J. was
starving
for the feel of Anderson’s flesh under his palms.

Anderson managed to strip off C.J.’s pants first and, to C.J.’s surprise, fell to his knees, placing raw, open-mouthed kisses down C.J.’s chest and then his abdomen as he went. His palms, skating over C.J.’s thighs, were practically teasing, but that was the only tease that Anderson had in him. He grasped C.J.’s cock in his hand and stroked, and C.J. threw his head back, seeking something, anything, to hold him up. He found the doorframe between the front room and the bedroom and leaned against that, and then Anderson said his name.

He looked down and saw Anderson’s eyes, fathomless in the unlit room, intent on his face.

“You’ve seen the recordings,” Anderson asked insistently, and C.J. nodded, feeling inarticulate and frenzied. “If you’ve seen them, you know I didn’t do this very often,” Anderson hissed, and then he opened his mouth and swallowed C.J. all the way to the root, groaning when his lips brushed C.J.’s curly ash-blond hair.

A sound, half growl, half sob, tore out of C.J.’s chest as Anderson moaned around his cock and then tightened his lips and pulled back.

“
Oh God, oh God, oh God ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod… Anderson!
”

C.J. started to spurt come, just a little, and he grabbed Anderson’s hair and pulled him away to keep him from bringing C.J. to a quick, painful climax.

“Want… inside you,” C.J. grunted, and Anderson looked up and bared his teeth in anticipation.

“Want that too,” Anderson growled. “And then I want inside
you
. Can we do that? Can I fuck you back?”

“
Auughhhh….
”
C.J. had to pinch off the end of his prick, bringing the foreskin over it and clamping down, or he would have come right there. “Clothes off,” he commanded/begged. “There’s lube in the drawer. Get yourself ready for me, Anderson. I need to see you want it.”

C.J. managed to calm himself down a little while he stripped out of his clothes and his shoes, but that was only because he didn’t watch Anderson take off
his
clothes. When C.J. got to the bed and Anderson was on his hands and knees, that fine, pale body gleaming softly in the ambient light from computer console, C.J. had to breathe hard and deliberately to not simply stroke himself once and come.

God, Anderson was beautiful.

He was still thin, but two months of swimming had left his muscles defined, his waist slightly indented, his bottom with just enough flesh to not be uncomfortable as C.J.
slammed into his asshole
, which was all C.J. wanted to do.

Lubricant was slathered over Anderson’s ass cheeks, in his crease, and, as C.J. watched, was being pushed into Anderson’s entrance with two scissoring, stretching fingers, even as a drop or two slithered off his testicles and onto the mattress.

C.J. whined a little, needing, and then said, “Turn around, Anderson. I want to see your face.”

Anderson shuddered and turned onto his back, spreading his knees and grabbing a pillow from the top of the bed and shoving it under his hips. “You don’t ask much,” he protested, even as he reached behind his back and put his fingers back into his asshole, shivering with pleasure and want as he did so.

“Stop that,” C.J. murmured. “I’ll do that.” He came forward and palmed the flesh (lightly covered with blond hair) of Anderson’s thighs, then lowered his head to kiss the inside of Anderson’s knee. Anderson gasped, and C.J. chuckled thinly.

“I may be a horny bastard, Anderson, but God, I’ve been dreaming about this….” His voice trailed off, and he kissed his way down the inside of Anderson’s thigh to the crease of his body. He wanted to take Anderson’s testicles delicately into his mouth, but there was already lube on them, so he pulled away and, instead, traced a line up between them to the veiny, ridged surface of that impressive, thick cock.

“Don’t make me come,” Anderson pleaded. “I want to be inside you….”

C.J. took him inside his mouth and swallowed the salty taste of pre-come in the back of his throat, pulling Anderson’s foreskin back with his fist. He let Anderson shudder hard in ecstasy and then sucked, hard, and pulled his lips up, wet and sloppy, so that Anderson would be tormented by the feel of the cool air around the exposed pink skin bared around his crown.

“Anderson… God, as much as I want you, do you really think you’re only going to come once tonight?”

Anderson smiled, and it was a triumphant, feral thing. “Please, C.J… please fuck me right the hell now!”

C.J. positioned himself carefully—he wanted it to be good, smooth, not too tight, not too rough, and the muscles in his back bunched in control as he slid in. Stretch, stretch stretch…
pop!
The head of C.J.’s cock disappeared, and Anderson spread his knees as far as they would go and cocked his hips and groaned.

“God, Cyril,
please!
”

C.J. spoke through clenched teeth. “Don’t… call… me… Cyril…,” he ordered, every word another inch into Anderson’s body.

“
C.J.! Please!
”
Anderson begged, and C.J. couldn’t stand another moment and snapped his hips forward, almost weeping when Anderson closed his eyes, tilted his head back and screamed, “
Oh, damn, yesssss!
” into the sweaty darkness around them.

C.J. pulled out of his body again and then snapped forward, and Anderson reached between them and begged some more. “Can I… God… forget what I said… can I… please… oh God, I need to come… please?”

C.J. slammed home again and then started a brutal, pounding rhythm, panting, “Anything you want, baby, bring yourself off… all I need is to see you come. It’s got to be good… please tell me it’s good!”

“So… damned… good…
auuughhhhh!
”

The hot spatter of Anderson’s spend splashing on their stomachs, coating them, tinting the air around them with the sharp smell of come, was all it took. C.J.’s thrusts grew frenzied, and now he was the one begging.

“Please, Anderson, please can I, God can I, I just need to… please, please, please….”

“
God
, C.J.,
come
!”

C.J.’s whole body felt like it was exploding in white, and the light behind his clenched-tight-shut eyes was brilliant, tinged in red, as he came so hard his balls ached fiercely with each shudder and spurt into Anderson’s clenching body.

He let out a cry that hardly sounded human and buried his face in Anderson’s neck and made that sound again. Anderson pulled his hands, one of them sticky, up to C.J.’s shoulder and stroked and whispered and soothed, even as C.J.’s cock grew flaccid and slid out of Anderson’s well-used backside.

He groaned at the loss of contact and then pulled his head back and kissed Anderson again, loving his taste, dying for it still, and Anderson kissed back the same way.

This time was slower, more civilized, with more exploring. C.J. kissed shoulders, collarbones, and took the time to see what would happen if he scraped the flat, tiny pink nipples with his teeth. Anderson almost screamed and came off the bed, it felt so good—
that
was
what happened! Anderson licked his way down C.J.’s side, under his arm, and when C.J. protested, “I’m stinky,” Anderson looked at him soberly.

“I know. It’s human, C.J. It’s wonderful.”

C.J. whined then, because Anderson’s tongue on the curve of his underarm would have tickled if it was daylight, if they were playing, if there was anything light and easy about their bodies touching in the darkness. There wasn’t. There was no play, there was no giggling, there was none of the laughter or the kidding that C.J. had known with his other lovers. This thing they were doing, it was deadly serious, and C.J. thought hazily, as Anderson cleaned off his cock with a questioning mouth, that tomorrow, they would have time to play. Tomorrow, they would make love again in the morning, and C.J. would teach him how much fun it would be, but now, they just needed, just wanted, just
needed so fucking bad!
That every touch was desperation, desire, arousal to the point of pain.

Anderson pushed between C.J.’s thighs, spreading them, shoving the pillow under C.J.’s hips and taking the lubricant from where it had been dropped on the bed.

“I’ve never done this part before,” he explained, his breath tickling the fine dark hairs all points south of C.J.’s cock.

“Lots of lube,” C.J. muttered. “One finger, not deep… two…
oh Christ, yes!
Just like you did with yourself… but… yeah… deeper….”

“I know what’s deeper, C.J.,” Anderson said, sounding very sober. His fingers inside C.J.’s body were throwing everything into chaos. C.J.
loved
being fucked,
loved
being the bottom, and Anderson’s touch was sure and commanding and everything C.J. could plead for in a lover. Anderson scissored his fingers, spreading them and then putting them together and pushing up until….

“
That’s
deeper!” C.J. yelped, and Anderson pushed on it again and again and again until now C.J. was begging. “Please! Dammit, Anderson, I wasn’t trying to torture… God, yes!” Because Anderson had risen on his knees, a slender, commanding god, about to claim C.J. as his home planet.

His cock was big enough to make stretching a question and not a certainty, and C.J. had to struggle to breathe… breathe… breathe. He closed his eyes and saw a planetary ring of fire like the one his stretched anus had become, and then…. “
Yessssss…
.” The head of Anderson’s prick popped in, and now C.J. was the one being hammered, fucked,
pounded
into oblivion, while Anderson’s once sweet, wide-eyed face, twisted fiercely with the snarl of a predator, and C.J. died and died and died again while being impaled on his body.

Anderson closed his eyes with his final lunge, and C.J. had been convulsing in climax around his cock steadily for quite some time. C.J. was exhausted by then, orgasmed past pleasure and into pain and still wanting more, but he watched the peace stealing across Anderson’s features when he closed his eyes, set down his burdens, and released into C.J.’s body.

Anderson fell forward, and this time, it was C.J. whispering into his hair, C.J. saying soothing nonsense words, C.J. telling him softly that he was loved.

Anderson rolled off of C.J.’s body, and they lay still, their ferocious heat cooling slightly when they were no longer touching, and C.J. turned his head to look into Anderson’s eyes.