Bonds of Earth (21 page)

Michael crossed his arms. “Sarah deserves to be happy.”

“Well, of course she does,” Seward said matter-of-factly, cleaning another bite.

“And so do you,” Michael persisted gruffly.

Seward looked up and met his gaze again. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That’s open to debate,” he said softly. A pause, then: “What about you? Do you deserve to be happy?”

Michael looked away. “There wasn’t a lot of it to be had where I grew up. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not a commodity that lasts more than a few days, or hours.”

To his shock, Seward chuckled dryly. “Ah, it must be a poignant thing to be a simple workingman, a member of the rough and tumble proletariat, gathering your fleeting pleasures hither and yon.”

“Fuck off,” Michael growled lowly. Unperturbed, Seward turned and walked toward him. His steps, Michael noted dimly, were sure and even. When he was close enough, Seward reached up and rested his hands on Michael’s shoulders.

“
Carpe diem
, is that your philosophy?” Seward murmured. Every word was a soft puff of breath against Michael’s face, and Michael shivered in spite of himself. “Do you believe that nothing is eternal, that everything is transitory, meaningless?” His fingers slid across the cool cotton of Michael’s shirt, caressed his neck, sank into his hair, held fast. “Is that what this is?”

“There is no—this,” Michael whispered, summoning every shred of will to sever the connection between them, to step back and back again until Seward’s hands fell to his sides. The bereft look on Seward’s face made him scramble for an explanation that wouldn’t be interpreted as a rejection. “I—”

Seward shook his head once to silence him, and that perfect mask Michael had seen the first day they’d met dropped into place, hiding Seward’s every emotion from his prying gaze. “No, it’s fine. I understand completely,” he said hollowly, turning back around.

“You don’t understand a damned thing,” Michael snarled, taking two steps forward and feeling his feet march straight off the precipice and into thin air.

“Then for God’s sake, explain it to me,” Seward begged, the mask crumbling as suddenly as it had appeared, the mirror revealing the reflection of a man completely adrift. “Because I don’t want this any more than you do, but I can’t seem to stop—”

Michael’s gaze dropped to roam shamelessly over the terrain of Seward’s body, so familiar and yet unexplored in so many ways. He had never touched for his own benefit, only for Seward’s, but now his palms were itching to roam over that flesh, to glide and press and feel it living under them, as though it existed only for this, only for him—

Seward hissed air between his teeth, and Michael looked up to see that his eyes had closed. “The way you look at me,” he breathed. Christ, Seward’s cock was half-hard already and Michael hadn’t even touched him. The thought that he could do this much to him with only a look made his own body respond.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said automatically, for many different reasons, not the least of which was that there was no future in it for either of them.

“I don’t want you to apologize,” Seward murmured, words fervent as a prayer. “Though I can’t even imagine why you would want….” He trailed off.

“What?”

“This,” Seward said, turning to face him, his hands spreading to encompass the scars and half-formed muscles, the persistent slight droop of his right shoulder. He obviously was blind to the beauty that was revealed by the proof of his survival, the rise of his renewed manhood.

Michael shook his head slowly and moved to close the remaining distance between them, cursing both of them silently in his head but unable to stand against the force of their combined need a moment longer. Seward met him halfway there, groaning helplessly into Michael’s mouth, his hands sliding down Michael’s shoulders and back.

“Can you imagine it now?” Michael demanded hoarsely, mouth hot against Seward’s neck. “I can. I have been for weeks.”

“God,” Seward breathed, tugging him up for another kiss. His clumsy fingers fumbled over the buttons on Michael’s shirt, nearly popping them off in his haste. His rough enthusiasm excited Michael beyond reason. He glided his hands down over the surprisingly firm curve of Seward’s ass and felt Seward jerk in his arms.

“Did I hurt you?” Michael asked, releasing him immediately.

Eyes squeezed shut, Seward shook his head. “No, no,” he whispered, “please, don’t stop….”

With a growl, Michael gripped his ass and hauled him close, swallowing the moan that escaped his lips as Seward’s firm cock was pressed against the rough wool of Michael’s trousers. Michael’s own erection was already aching. He couldn’t remember ever being so thoroughly aroused by a few simple kisses and touches. Seward was tugging his shirt down his arms now, and Michael let go of Seward’s body for a moment to help. Seward’s fingers tickled his belly as he grasped the hem of the undershirt, then shoved it upward.

Michael emerged from the shirt to find Seward staring at him hungrily. “You’re so—” he murmured, then let his fingertips complete the thought, speaking with caresses rather than words. His hands sang praises to Michael’s body, and Michael looked up to see his own eyes staring back at him desperately, uncomprehendingly.

He wanted to protest, because he wasn’t worthy of that level of reverence. In its own way, his body had been as ill-used as Seward’s. Worse, because he’d participated in his own ruination, fed his decline with countless cheap, hasty fucks in back alleys and bathhouses, anonymous encounters with men days from dying, drowning in mud. His skin was too sullied to inspire worship, too flawed for such devoted pilgrimages.

In the end, he said nothing, partly because he knew it would do no good and partly because he wanted to be new again, if only in this man’s eyes, if only for this night.

Seward pushed at him gently, steering him toward the bed, and Michael let himself be guided, let himself tumble onto the mattress as Seward straddled him and began attacking the buttons of his trousers. Michael caught one of Seward’s hands and pressed the flattened palm to his engorged cock. Seward shut his eyes and shuddered, then dove down for another kiss.

Wrapping his arms around the slim back, Michael rolled them over, reversing their positions, then finished the work Seward had started. Finally naked, he stretched himself out over top of Seward, bracing his hands on the mattress as he ground their hips together.

“Oh, Christ—” Seward swore, throwing his head back, neck muscles straining. Michael licked those sinewy cords, unable to resist. Seward made another low noise at that, and all of Michael’s assumptions about a taciturn bedmate went flying out the window. Seward’s noises, however, were nothing like Castleton’s whines and demands; instead of being thrown out like disposable, worthless trifles, each one was a finely wrought treasure, the product of fire and need. Michael craved those sounds and did his damnedest to force them from Seward’s kiss-bruised lips as he worked his way down that lean body.

By the time he was darting his tongue into Seward’s navel, Seward was practically keening with desire, the muscles of his belly taut, his cock radiating heat and musk. Deciding to be merciful, Michael wrapped one hand around the base of him to steady him, then lowered his mouth to the leaking tip. Seward froze and fell silent at the touch. Michael raised his eyes and saw him looking down the length of his body, his mouth open as he panted raggedly.

Smiling, Michael lifted his head and arrowed his tongue, letting Seward see every movement as he swirled it around the head. The green eyes drank him in, reflecting some emotion Michael didn’t recognize. Closing his own eyes, he bent again to his task, cheeks hollowing as he began to suck.

At some point, he felt the soft touch of a hand on his face and waited for the inevitable guidance that men seemed compelled to give. But the fingers merely stroked his cheek with the gentlest pressure, as if in gratitude. Michael heard himself groan low in his throat at that unexpected tenderness in the midst of carnality, and within seconds Seward emitted a sharp gasp, and his body shifted, heralding a withdrawal. Michael only redoubled his efforts, and as he reached up, his fingers tightening around Seward’s, he felt the first warm jet of fluid coat his tongue.

When it was over, Michael opened his eyes and beheld Seward lying spent and dazed, one arm flung above his head, the other hand still entwined with Michael’s. His hair was disheveled, his cheeks were flushed a deep scarlet, and his chest was sheened with sweat, and Michael felt a tug of possession deep within him more powerful than he’d ever known.

As if he’d spoken his fondest wish aloud, Seward stared at him, eyes wide, then mutely rolled onto his belly.

Michael was somewhat slower on the uptake, since the sight of Seward offering his body for Michael’s pleasure was enough to momentarily incapacitate his powers of reason. When he could think again, he reached out with one finger and trailed it down the length of Seward’s crease.

Seward shivered and jerked under him.

“You want this?” Michael demanded.

Seward nodded.

Another caress, another flinch. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

Seward twisted his head to glare at Michael out of the corner of his eye. “Would you just do it?” he snapped, and that was so much like the Seward he knew that he had to bite back a chuckle.

“Well, since you ask so sweetly,” Michael purred. He snatched a jar of Vaseline off the nightstand and opened it, then coated two fingers with the stuff. Moving between his legs, he nudged the insides of Seward’s thighs roughly with his knees. Seward gasped but complied with the unspoken request, his legs widening even further.

Murmuring soft words of encouragement, Michael slid his fingers in slowly, pausing whenever he encountered resistance, allowing Seward’s body to adjust to the intrusion. Seward made no move to either assist or hinder him, instead remaining as still as a corpse.

Determined to provoke a reaction, Michael pressed forward until he found the small rise that denoted his pleasure center, then brushed it with the gentlest of touches.

Seward buried his face in the pillow and groaned.

Bending his head, Michael bit Seward’s ass lightly. “What was that?” he asked, drawing his fingers back for a fresh assault.

“Oh, Christ, that’s—” A sharper cry this time. “God. I didn’t know it could—” He trailed off abruptly, hands fisting in the sheets at his sides.

Michael felt anger flare in him on Seward’s behalf. Obviously his previous lovers had been incompetent or selfish, to have failed to give him this. “That’s only the beginning,” he promised, setting up a slow, easy rhythm designed to drive Seward mad.

It had the desired effect; within minutes Seward was all but sobbing his pleasure. However, he was still tense and unmoving, and so Michael decided to try another tack. Withdrawing, he gripped Seward’s hips, urging him up. After a tense moment, Seward shoved himself to his knees, his whole body trembling.

Michael rewarded him with a lingering caress down his spine with his dry hand while the other gathered more lubricant and gently rubbed around his entrance. He kept up this teasing treatment until Seward finally moved, rocking back in an attempt to force Michael’s fingers back inside. Smiling, he rewarded Seward with a brief touch to his cock, which was already rising again.

“What do you want?” Michael asked. Seward groaned again but said nothing. Michael returned his fingers to Seward’s hole. “Do you want this?”

Seward whimpered and angled his hips upward, seeking, pleading. Michael leaned down over his back and bit his earlobe, letting his own cock rest in the cleft of Seward’s ass.

“Or would you rather have this?” he murmured, rotating his hips. Seward was now shaking so hard Michael feared he would collapse under him. He was gasping as though his lungs could not draw enough air, his eyes squeezed shut. When he spoke, the sound was so low that Michael had to strain to hear.

“You,” Seward whispered, “you, I want you….” The last word trailed off into a moan, and Seward pushed back against him, the sudden sharp pressure nearly toppling Michael over the edge of ecstasy. With a muffled curse, he leaned back, slathered the slick stuff onto his cock, and then slid into Seward as swiftly as he dared, watching as Seward took him in inch by glorious inch.

When he was fully seated, he paused for a moment. Seward made a soft, choked sound and tried to move, but Michael’s hands dug into his hips, preventing him. “Wait,” he growled. “Give me a moment, or this will be over very quickly.”

“Oh, God,” Seward breathed, shuddering. “It’s so good I don’t know if I can—”

“Shhh,” Michael soothed, closing his eyes against the delicious sight of that long, lean back, “soon. Soon.” Gathering the tattered remains of his control, he began to move in tiny increments, drawing out with excruciating slowness until only the tip of him remained inside the tight heat.

Seward growled low in his throat, practically strangling on his frustration.

“Do you like this?” Michael murmured hoarsely. Seward whimpered and tried to push back against his cock, but Michael only withdrew further in response. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” Seward whispered, “yes, I like it. I love….” He trailed off, head hanging down, exposing his vulnerable nape. “I love it.”

“Then take it,” Michael ordered, releasing Seward’s hips and allowing him to move as he wished. With a grateful sob, Seward braced his arms above his head and shoved his body back onto Michael’s cock, impaling himself.

“Christ,” Michael gasped, hips pistoning helplessly as he finally succumbed to his own overwhelming need. Bracing himself with a hand on Seward’s shoulder, he moved with him, in him, thrusting deeply, seeking that place of ultimate pleasure. His other hand sought and found Seward’s cock, forming a tight tunnel for him to use as he moved.

Seward stiffened and shouted, and then he was pouring himself into Michael’s hand as he came. Michael rode out the rhythmic pulls of Seward’s orgasm, then redoubled his efforts, fairly pounding into him in his desperation to reach his goal. He fucked into him until he swore he could feel Seward’s stuttering heartbeat all around him; then, with a feeling akin to triumph, he rose up and spent himself with one final, forceful thrust.