Song of Oestend (24 page)

See how good it feels?” he asked. “Think about me touching you here”—again he pushed a bit harder against Deacon’s rim—“and here.” And again he squeezed his cock. “Feel the pleasure go back and forth. Feel the way one wouldn’t be the same without the other.”

“Yes,” Deacon groaned. His rim was becoming softer, becoming more and more

inviting as Deacon gave himself to the pleasure. His cock was fully erect again, and he thrust himself through Aren’s fist, then back against Aren’s other hand, over and over again.

“Someday,” Aren said, as his hands continued to move, “after we’ve both bathed, I’ll

put my tongue where my thumb is now.” He was gratified by the moan his words elicited from Deacon. “You won’t believe how fucking good it feels.”

“Saints, Aren,” Deacon gasped. “It feels good now.”

Aren took his hand away from Deacon’s ass and was pleased at the way Deacon

moaned in frustration. “Don’t worry,” he said. He scooped more salve onto his fingers and spread it down his own aching shaft. “I’m not done.” Deacon looked back over his shoulder at him, and Aren saw the cloud of doubt in his eyes. “I’m not going to fuck you. I said I wouldn’t. Not until you’re ready.” Deacon relaxed again, and he pushed backwards, pushing his ass towards Aren. Aren reached under him again and allowed Deacon to thrust into his SONG OF OESTEND

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fist. He pushed his cock against Deacon’s crack. “This is all,” he said. “I won’t fuck you yet.

I’m just going to ride you.”

Deacon nodded, panting hard, and Aren started to thrust.

So many times he’d been on his knees for other men but never had he been able to do

what he was doing now. He didn’t care that he couldn’t fuck Deacon for real. He was thrilled just to have Deacon in front of him, to be able to slide his engorged cock up and down the crack of Deacon’s ass as his other hand continued to jerk him off.

“You have the most amazing body,” he said as he fucked himself against Deacon’s

crack. “You have the most amazing ass.”

He stroked Deacon faster, and thrust against him harder. He imagined spreading

Deacon’s cheeks and driving into him for real.

“It’s going to feel so good,” he told Deacon as he thrust against him. “It’s going to feel so good to fuck you.”

Deacon whimpered. His arms seemed to give out, and he fell to his elbows, moaning as

Aren continued to stroke him. “I want so much to fuck you. I’ll make it good for you, Deacon. I swear I will.”

“Aren!”

“Not until you’re ready.”

“Oh, Saints, Aren, I’m ready now!”

“No. I won’t do it until you’re begging me for it.”

“Aren, I’m going to come soon.”

But Aren didn’t want to let it end so soon. The idea of spending more time, of drawing their pleasure out as long as they could was too exciting to pass up. “No, you’re not,” he said, forcing himself to stop grinding against the Deacon’s hard muscular ass. He let go of Deacon’s cock. “Not yet, you’re not.”

He pulled away from Deacon and stood up, and Deacon moaned with obvious

frustration. “Go get on the bed.”

Deacon was breathing hard, and it seemed to take him a moment to make his muscles

work, but then he slowly pushed himself up from the floor and did as he was told.

“Sit against the headboard,” Aren told him as he retrieved the rope from where he’d

dropped it on the floor. “Put the pillows behind you if you want, so you’re comfortable.”

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It was easy to tie Deacon’s hands to the posts at the head corners of the bed. There were posts at the foot of the bed, too, but with Deacon sitting against the headboard, his feet didn’t reach that far. Aren settled for tying the rope around his ankles and running it down the side of the mattress to tie it to the bed frame. It left Deacon with both his arms and legs spread wide, his back padded comfortably against the headboard, and his cock large and hard between his legs.

Aren climbed onto the bed with the salve. He took his time massaging some onto

Deacon’s cock, watching the way Deacon’s hips tried to buck, and listening to Deacon’s frantic moans. He greased the entire shaft, leaving the tip for last. Before he oiled it, he leaned over and licked it, running his tongue under Deacon’s foreskin, tasting the salty moisture that had collected there. Deacon gasped and attempted to thrust deeper into Aren’s mouth, but he had no leverage and nowhere to go, and he collapsed back against the mattress, panting.

Aren sat up to grin at him. “I don’t think I’m going to let you come tonight,” he said.

“What do you think of that?”

Deacon shook his head. “I don’t know if I can last.”

“I want you to try.”

He moved up on Deacon’s body, stopping to tease each of his hard nipples with his tongue. Deacon moaned. Aren ran his tongue up Deacon’s chest, over his throat, along his jaw. He stopped finally at his lips. He didn’t know why he could suck Deacon’s cock, or make Deacon suck his, and yet he was still strangely shy about kissing him.

He finally leaned in, brushing his lips over Deacon’s awaiting mouth. Deacon moaned

and his lips parted. Although his hands were tied, he was unmistakably aggressive as he kissed Aren back, his tongue pushing into Aren’s mouth. Aren pulled back, gasping for air.

As many times as he’d had sex in his life, he still wasn’t used the intimacy of a simple kiss.

“Don’t you come yet,” he panted. He used his hand to position Deacon’s cock beneath

him, and he slowly sank down onto it.

He’d been fucked by more men than he could count over the years, but none as large as Deacon. He went slowly, just as he’d done the first time, allowing his body time to adapt to the intrusion. Deacon watched him the entire time, his eyes burning. Once his body had SONG OF OESTEND

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relaxed and Deacon’s length was buried deep inside him, he began to move up and down, slowly at first, but quickly speeding up.

“Holy Saints,” Deacon breathed, “you can’t do that too long if you expect me to not come.”

“A little longer,” Aren gasped. He gripped the headboard on each side of Deacon’s

head and rode him harder, revelling in the feel of the huge cock pounding against that sweet spot inside him. He looked down at Deacon, at the way his eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, his full lips moist and parted as he panted along with Aren. The hesitation Aren had felt before was gone. He kissed Deacon hard, pushing his tongue into Deacon’s mouth as Deacon had done to him. Deacon moaned. He whimpered. He squirmed and bucked underneath him as Aren pillaged his mouth, fucking himself harder onto Deacon’s cock.

It felt so good. It felt so good to have every part of his body open to Deacon. It felt good to feel Deacon helpless and compliant underneath him. He kissed him harder, pulling the big man’s long hair, grinding hard onto Deacon’s big cock.

“Aren,” Deacon gasped. “You have to stop.”

Aren could hear the desperation in his voice. He was close himself, and he knew

Deacon was fighting hard to keep his climax at bay. “Your mouth,” he said frantically as he grabbed Deacon’s head. “I want your mouth.” He pulled himself up quickly, off Deacon’s cock. It was an awkward position, and he ended up half-standing and half-kneeling, holding fast to the headboard with one hand and gripping Deacon’s head with the other. He drove his cock deep into Deacon’s mouth. His restraint from before was gone, and he thrust harder and harder, but Deacon didn’t try to pull away. He didn’t seem to mind. His moans were as loud as before as Aren fucked his mouth. Aren reached behind himself, sliding his own finger into his wet hole, fingering himself as Aren swallowed his cock whole.

“Holy Saints, I want to fuck you,” he panted as he drove into Deacon’s mouth. “I want to fuck you so much.” He slid a second finger into himself, and his hips moved faster of their own accord, driving in and out of Deacon, in and out of himself. “You’re going to beg me to fuck you,” he said. He pulled his cock out of Deacon’s mouth and looked down into his burning eyes. “Do you believe me?” he asked.

“Yes!” Deacon said. “I’ll beg you now if you want.”

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“Not yet,” Aren said. He was still moving his fingers in and out of himself, and

Deacon’s eyes darted down to the movement.

“Let me,” he said, looking back up at Aren. “Untie one hand?”

Aren looked at Deacon’s big, strong hand, secured to the bed post, his fingers thick and callused. Just the thought made him want to come. He unknotted the rope as quickly as he could and was thrilled at the way Deacon’s finger immediately found his entrance.

“Holy Saints,” Aren breathed as Deacon’s finger slid tentatively inside. Deacon opened his mouth, stretching towards Aren’s cock, and Aren pushed into it, crying out at the pleasure. As good as it felt, having Deacon’s fingers fuck him while his warm mouth swallowed his cock, Aren knew it was only the beginning. He reached behind him, grabbing Deacon’s wrist. “More,” he said, and gasped as he felt a second finger slide into him. Still, Deacon seemed hesitant. His fingertips were barely past Aren’s rim. Aren thrust into Deacon’s mouth. He used his hand on Deacon’s wrist to push his fingers in deep, spreading him wide, touching that wonderfully sensitive spot inside him. “Yes!” Aren yelled.

He came hard, filling Deacon’s mouth, thrusting into that warmth as Deacon’s fingers

filled his ass. His orgasm was the best he’d had in months. Maybe longer. Maybe ever. It left him breathless and trembling. There was not even a hint of the shame or regret that had so often followed his sexual encounters. There was only an enormous feeling of release and relief. “Deacon,” he said when he could breathe again. He sank down across Deacon’s lap and kissed him hard, tasting his own cum and finding it undeniably erotic. “Holy Saints, that was good.”

“Do I have to wait until morning?” Deacon asked. He didn’t seem unhappy about it

though. He was smiling.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Aren unknotted the rope at Deacon’s other wrist and was dismayed at the angry red

welt he found underneath it. He found the salve and began to gently rub it into the oozing wound. “You should have said something,” he said to Deacon. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Deacon shrugged as he watched Aren work. “I didn’t notice.”

Maybe that was true, but Aren vowed to himself to do better next time. Even if Deacon didn’t mind the pain, it wouldn’t do to have him wandering around in front of his men with SONG OF OESTEND

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rope burns on his wrists. If he wrapped Deacon’s wrist in cloth first, it would help. He might still have a red mark, but at least the rough rope wouldn’t be able to cut into his dark flesh.

Aren was relieved to see that Deacon’s ankles weren’t as badly chafed. Still, he

apologised again.

“It’s fine,” Deacon told him, pulling him up to the head of the bed. “I ain’t

complaining.”

He lay down, pulling Aren with him. His naked body was hard against Aren’s back, his

thick, still-erect cock pushing against his ass, but he didn’t try to push into Aren as so many men had done before. He sighed happily as he pulled the blanket up over them both. He kissed the back of Aren’s neck.

“Aren,” he said quietly, “I think I could get used to this.”

Aren might have wondered at the strange feeling those words stirred in him.

He might have. If he’d only been a bit more awake.

He woke face down on the bed, with a weight against his back and a familiar pressure

between his thighs. For a few seconds, Aren thought he was back in school. Some boy who wouldn’t speak to him in the light of day was spreading his legs, and although Aren’s cock was already growing hard, something in his brain rebelled at the thought.

“Aren, please,” a hoarse voice whispered in his ear, and in the blink of an eye, Aren knew where he was. He was in his own bed, in the house that wasn’t quite his. The candles had burnt out. Outside, wind howled through the trees, rattling his shutters. The sobbing in the cellar was barely distinguishable. And the weight on his back wasn’t some cruel boy from school. The cock asking for entrance didn’t belong to somebody who would mock him in the morning. It was Deacon, the man whom Aren suddenly couldn’t imagine living without.

“Please,” Deacon whispered again. His lips gently kissed the back of Aren’s neck.

Even in the dark, it was easy to find the salve on the bedside table. It was easy to reach behind him and rub it on Deacon’s erect cock, causing the big cowboy to moan. Then, still face-down on the mattress with Deacon on his back, Aren guided Deacon to his entrance. He pushed backwards and felt Deacon’s tip slide easily inside.

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“Holy Saints, Aren,” Deacon moaned as he pushed farther inside. “You feel so good.”

His thrusts were long and deliberate, his hands and lips gentle. And even though Deacon was behind him, it reminded Aren of their first night together. Deacon was slow and careful, his hands caressing Aren everywhere. He kissed Aren’s neck and his shoulders. He continued to whisper in his ear, telling him he was amazing, he was beautiful, he was perfect. Eventually, one of his hands found Aren’s cock, and he stroked Aren as he made love to him.

But through it all, even as the pleasure grew, even as Deacon’s thrusts grew more

urgent, Aren could only think of one thing—in the morning, Deacon would be leaving,

heading into the wild. Aren heard the wind pounding against the windows. He imagined

wraiths loose in the night, trying to gain entrance. Brighton and Shay hadn’t come back.

There was no telling what waited for Deacon at the end of the road.

Deacon moaned, thrusting deep into Aren, crying out as he spent himself. As he did,

Aren found himself fighting tears for no reason he could explain.

“Tell me what you want,” Deacon said, once he’d caught his breath. He kissed Aren’s