All Note Long (18 page)

L
ucky's bed was soft and cushy, but despite Michelin's best efforts, it refused to swallow him up.
Idiot.
He should have left well enough alone—what they usually did in bed was wonderful, and they could be doing that now instead of having the world's most awkward conversation.

“You're making sense.” Lucky leaned forward to kiss him. “I forget that it's not always about fucking or orgasm for you.”

“You always make me out to sound like some chick. I'm not. My libido might be a bit screwy and maybe I don't think about fucking as much as some dudes—”

“I get it, Papí. You're all man.” Lucky dropped another soft kiss across Michelin's lips. “And you're also the most romantic guy I know. You
feel
things deeply. It's why you write such epic songs. Don't be ashamed of that.”

Michelin's skin still felt all prickly, like he'd been rubbed all over with sandpaper. He wasn't totally ignorant. He and Steve had been kids, and Steve had been insistent that he wasn't “all the way” gay enough for anal play, but later on Michelin had investigated some porn. Weirdly, the act itself didn't really turn Michelin on, but watching the expressions of the guys involved was fascinating. However, he'd never really pictured himself in either role until Lucky came along, and lately, imagining him and Lucky in place of those porn guys got his motor humming. And embarrassed him to no end, wanting that.

“Can we pretend I didn't say anything?” Grabbing Lucky's hips, he tried to tug him forward. He pitched his voice for far more confidence than he felt. “How 'bout we get these fancy pants off you and get my mouth on you?”

“Tempting.” But instead of moving forward, Lucky scooted backward, hooking his fingers in Michelin's boxers and dragging them down. He pulled his own pants off with quick, slithering movements. Michelin would never cop to it aloud, but he loved Lucky's loud underwear and workout wardrobe, and loved watching him stripping them off even more.

Fully nude, Lucky stretched out next to him, body grazing his side. Michelin couldn't hold in his exhale. And when Lucky started to kiss him, his whole body rumbled like the old Dodge he'd learned to drive on. Yes. This he loved. This was warm and familiar, the prelude to the sort of slow rubbing off that they both loved. Things had always been so frantic and quick with Steve. None of this unhurried making out.

Back when Jennifer first started working as his personal stylist, she'd dragged Michelin to some yoga classes as part of her tough love “you need to take better care of your body” campaign. Not much of the training had stuck, but kissing Lucky like this felt like meditation time, a Zen-like calm descending over him with each kiss. Didn't matter that it was the middle of the night. Didn't matter that they had so much left unsaid between them. Everything reduced down to the slow slide of their lips, the barest contact of their bodies.

He slipped into that trancelike place where he was content to let Lucky lead, to simply wallow in the magic they made together. When Lucky's hands started roaming, Michelin welcomed the contact, his own hands skating over the planes of Lucky's shoulders and back. When a touch landed on Michelin's dick, he groaned. Too soon, too soon. He wanted to float a bit longer before climaxing.

But as soon as he had the thought, Lucky's fingers dipped lower, dragging over his balls, then behind. Lucky licked and sucked the cords of Michelin's neck, making him gasp as Lucky made slow circles on the sensitive skin behind Michelin's balls, going a bit lower with each pass.

“You like?” Lucky asked.

“Unnnngh.” Michelin made a noise he hoped passed for assent.
Like
wasn't the right word. It was strange and different and new and wonderful and a bit terrifying, how much he wanted
more.

Pulling away for a moment, Lucky rummaged in the chest at the side of the bed. Michelin knew what was coming, but his muscles still tensed as a bottle of lube hit the bed beside him.

“Sssh.” Lucky stroked his cheek. “Relax. You're doing fabulous. We're not jumping right to sex, but I want to try a little more. Can you let me do that?”

The floaty happy place was still there, teasing the edges of Michelin's consciousness, and he nodded, trying to blanket himself in Lucky's reassurance. More kisses, insistent now, the sort of purposeful ones that always made Michelin's neck sweat and his dick throb. Lucky wanted something from him, and he could give it to him. Nothing mattered except for that.

And when Lucky's slick fingers ventured to his ass again, Michelin took a deep breath and let it out, relaxing into the contact.

“Good. So good.” Lucky smiled at him as fingers traced slippery circles around Michelin's rim. “Stay nice and loose, Papí. Breathe out like that for me again.”

Michelin's rim burned for a second as Lucky's finger breached him, then the sensation faded to a weird sort of stretch.

“Feel that? That's me in you.” Lucky leaned forward to lick at Michelin's torso.

“Oooh.” Michelin made a sound of pure wonder, arching into the contact. There were no metaphors adequate for how it felt, knowing Lucky's finger was inside him. Then Lucky pushed a little deeper and—

“Oh holy fuck.” Pleasure spiked up his spine, made his muscles shake.

“Oh yeah. That's your gland. When I fuck you, I'm going to thrust right over it, again and again, hitting it harder and harder. You want that?” He slowly slid his finger in and out of Michelin, putting a bit of pressure on his rim with each pass.

Michelin's eyes squished shut and his whole body trembled. His electrified nerve endings answered for his short-circuited brain. “Yes.”

“You're so hot like this, letting me stretch you. I think you're ready for two now. Okay?”

Michelin moaned in answer. God. He almost didn't need the touches—Lucky's reassuring voice was full of wicked promise and made Michelin want to keep him talking till dawn.

Two fingers burned a bit more, but he relaxed into it, knowing that would please Lucky, and pleasing him was
everything.
And when Lucky rubbed up against that spot inside Michelin this time, he wasn't quite so gentle.

“
Fuck.
” Michelin couldn't keep the sound in.

“Yeah, that's it, Papí. Give it to me. Give me all those sounds. Don't hold back.”

“Oh, my
god.
Oh fuck. Oh please. Please.” Michelin was flat-out babbling now. Not stuttering or stammering. Just babbling nonsense as Lucky fucked him harder. Lucky did this weird scissoring motion with his fingers that made Michelin pant and beg as the stretch intensified. His hand crept down to his dick of its own volition.

“That's it. Let it feel good. Jerk yourself off. I've got you.” Lucky's free hand swept up and down Michelin's thighs.

“Want you to fuck me.” This felt amazing, but he wanted more, wanted to
give
Lucky more. Nice as it felt to climax, he always preferred to do it together or to get his after he'd seen to Lucky. He was damned close, though; this need welling up in him, demanding more and more.

Lucky, thank fuck, didn't ask him if he was sure, didn't try to talk him out of it, instead simply got a condom from the same drawer that had held the lube and rolled it on.

“Flip,” he demanded. “On your knees.”

“I like this way.” Michelin was always willing to follow Lucky's requests, but he kind of liked being able to see Lucky's pleased expressions.

“Trust me. It'll be easier for you for your first time. And . . .” He leaned forward, lips against Michelin's ear. He shivered, knowing whatever was coming would be extra dirty. “I really want you on your knees for me, Papí. Turns me on like fuck just thinking about it.”

Oh, in
that
case, Michelin couldn't flip fast enough. As soon as he was on all fours, Lucky was behind him again, fingering him, stretching, and as with his aggressive kisses, the purposeful movements made something deep inside Michelin soften, give way.

“You look so hot like this, all ready for me.” Lucky circled the blunt head of his condom-covered cock around Michelin's rim, not pressing in but
there.
“Now, you don't have to take it all, okay? Push back nice and slow.”

Michelin didn't want slow. He wanted it all. He wanted everything Lucky wanted to give him. He wanted to please Lucky so badly that his back arched even before Lucky pressed forward. Lucky laughed low. “Easy now.”

And then Lucky was pushing in, and it was almost too intense. Almost. A little more, and oh hell. It
burned.
Yeah, too intense. Whatever closeness he'd been hoping for, this wasn't it. He bit his lip hard to keep from asking Lucky to stop.

“Push back a little,” Lucky coaxed, but he couldn't. Every muscle felt frozen. Lucky laughed, but it sounded strained. “It'll help. Promise.”

“Can't.”

“Yes, you can. I dare you to take a little bit more. I know you can.”

Oh, Michelin should
never
have told him about his cousins and the dares late one night when they'd been swapping stupid kid stories. Sweat rolled down his back, but he loosened his spine and slowly pushed back.

Lucky made a low, approving noise, so Michelin breathed out and tried to relax into the stretch, the way he had with Lucky's fingers.

Crackle.
Like August lightning hitting a dry field, Michelin's whole body sizzled as Lucky slid forward and hit that place inside him.

“Exactly like that. So good.” One of Lucky's hands stroked up and down Michelin's back while the other snaked under Michelin's torso to grab his dick. It had flagged a bit, but that bit of white lighting coursing through his veins from the pressure on his gland was helping things out, and Lucky's hand did the rest to get him back to that hard-and-aching place.

“
Dios.
You're doing perfect, taking my dick so good.” Lucky's voice was a rough purr that hit every one of Michelin's oversensitive nerve endings. “Gonna go faster now.”

“Please.” Michelin wasn't sure why that was the one intelligible sound amid his moans, just that he
needed
so much, needed Lucky to take
everything
he had to give.

A few more thrusts, though, and the landscape of this strange new terrain shifted. Pleasure spiked through him, making him groan, and Lucky's answering moan was enough to make him tremble. He wasn't giving; Lucky wasn't taking. It wasn't like that at all—this wasn't a
gift
to be offered and bartered and appreciated. Instead, this was a song, a balanced duet to be precise, each of them singing lead and taking harmony in turn, each offering something essential to the arrangement.

“You're mine, Papí. All mine.” Lucky punctuated each word with another slow thrust, each more welcome than the last.

And there it was—the closeness he'd hoped for when he'd imagined this act. Their bodies moved in concert, rocking together. His head thrashed against the mattress as his whole body tensed, pleasure coiling tight.

“Want to come,” he panted. “Please. Want to come.”

“Do it. Come for me.”

“Need. You. First.”

“Oh, I'm there. Right there with you.” Lucky's hips snapped faster now, his thrusts less fluid now. And as much as Michelin had appreciated the consideration earlier, he loved this more primal, frantic pace now. “Ready for me, Papí? Ready to come with me?”

“
Yesssss.”
Even as he said the word, the first shockwave hit him—a sensation unlike any orgasm he'd had before. The pleasure was more diffuse and yet more intense at the same time. Other body parts than just his dick seemed to be orgasming, too—his ass for sure, but his fingertips, his collarbone, a strange spot at the back of his head, and his thighs all tingled and throbbed with release. He was vaguely aware of Lucky cursing in Spanish with his climax, the tenor of his voice intensifying the final few spasms of Michelin's own release.

Lucky covered Michelin's back with kisses, murmuring more soft praise in his ear, before pulling away and dispensing with the condom. He grabbed a towel from the chest, cleaning both of them off in between more kisses. Michelin would never tell Lucky this, but sometimes he liked the slow, lazy making out after sex even more than the actual sex.

“You're going to be disappointed.” Too soon Lucky spoke, breaking the spell.

“Eh?” Michelin raised his head a fraction of an inch.

“My shower sucks compared with all of yours. But we really do need to clean up before we drive back to Lady.”

“Uh huh.” Michelin wanted to bask in the delicious feeling of having shared that kind of connection. And sleep. Sleep would be good about now.

“This would be the perfect time to ask if I can drive the truck, right?”

“Ha.” Michelin forced himself to sit upright. Apparently happy fun time was over, and it was time to go sort out the real world, pets and pesky publicists included.

Naive. What did you think? That sex would solve everything?
Maybe somewhere deep in his heart, Michelin
had
thought that the sex would help, that this new closeness would make those issues a bit smaller and more manageable. And instead the opposite was true—he wanted this feeling over and over and wanted it to
last,
and instead all the problems waiting for them felt like mountain lions stalking his newfound safe place.