"It's. . . of us. "
"What? The one you just finished?"
"Yeah. " Thomas groaned as he rocked. "It's always tougher this way, even if it's the same size. "
"Music to my ears, pet. I want you stretched. Take me deep. Don't you clench up.
You can take all of me. You did that first night when your hole was practically virgin, when I used my mouth to loosen you up, until you were wiggling and humping up against my face like an animal. "
When Thomas arched up, the dildo slid home, filling him, stretching him hard, for though a sex toy could be made like flesh, nothing had the miraculous give and yet firmness of a man's flesh-and-blood cock. Of Marcus' cock.
"You make me sound. . . like some schoolkid. . . on his first fuck. . . "
"You were, in a lot of ways. And I fucking loved it. Someone taught you where the parts were. I taught you how to fuck. You remember the night I fisted you, at the club?
You trusted me like you never trusted me before. Am I all the way in, pet?"
In ways he couldn't express. Thomas breathed out the word on a rasp of air. "Yeah.
God, that's tight. "
"Ah, Jesus, you had to tell me that, make me imagine the way it feels, as if I don't already know. You want a little pain with it. It finally blows your mind past that bullshit worrying you. Stomach hurt?"
It didn't. The power of endorphins. Of Marcus. Thomas closed his eyes. Marcus knew how to make it stop hurting, and yet was the source of all pain, good and bad.
Thomas didn't care. He wanted it all.
"Does it have our faces? You don't usually do faces. . . "
"No. . . It's all the things. . . " He couldn't talk. He couldn't. His entire focus was on his cock.
"Start rocking yourself against the floor. Use your ass muscles to work it, use the floor to put it in deep. And my hands are on your cock again, Thomas. Holding you rough, squeezing you, fisting you. . . "
"Jesus. . . "
"The picture," Marcus commanded. "Tell me more. "
"It's everything. . . you've ever done to me. . . Everything I wanted you to do, but was afraid to ask. "
When Marcus swore softly in his ear, Thomas felt the power flood him, knowing he'd pushed his Master closer to the edge. He wanted Marcus to come, wanted to hear it, wanted it to take him over. "Your mouth. . . in my ass. . . but me too. I'm tonguing you, licking your balls while you're holding my thighs, spreading me, fucking me with your fingers, and you've put me in a cock harness so I can't come, but I'm going to explode. I want to put teeth marks in your ass. . .
The picture actually didn't show any sexual aids, just all those positions intertwined in a tree of life, hints in the tapestry of its branches as it stood rooted, the lone focus in a field drenched in a setting sun. Arms and legs were entwined to do one thing but interlocking with the next position, so other couplings could be envisioned. The sky was full of powerful rich reds, casting that faint crimson and violet hue over the two men twined at the base of the tree, sleeping on a blanket. It was as if the shadowy images in the tree above were dreams. There was a goat nearby. . .
It had been so easy, so flowing, it was no wonder it had pulled him in, immersed him. He'd painted red and brown streaks on his face, bare arms and his stomach, finishing the painting looking like some mad Celtic warrior involved in a sacred ritual, carried by the vision of it.
All the ways he wanted Marcus to touch him, fuck him. . . all the ways he wanted to service Marcus, make him come, make him not want anyone else, ever.
Best ass I've ever had. . .
The power of the physical made it all about that, even as Thomas knew it was goaded to such high limits by what wasn't the physical. But this was male need, the emotional inextricably linked with the physical so it was the dominant form of experience. It said it all. Meant it all.
"You ready to come, pet?" Marcus' breath was ragged. Thomas could imagine his long frame, fingers working up and dow
n his cock. His cock as well, an overpowering dual image that had his lower body seizing, his bowels cramping, ass muscles tight on the plug, on Marcus' cock. . .
"You. . . first. . . " He managed through clenched teeth. "I want you to come in my ass. . . " He focused on those two figures locked together in dreams beneath the tree, two men in an embrace that could be combat. What would it be like to fuck Marcus. . . hold him in his arms, feel him strain against his hold the way Thomas did, a delicious wrestling that wasn't an attempt to get away but to get more, to allow the thrusts to be more powerful?
Hold him so he wouldn't get away. . . Was that what it was for him, restraining Thomas, doing everything to him, knowing he couldn't run away from the power of the feeling? Was Dominating Thomas one of the keys to Marcus' inner gates? The most powerful one of all? Was that the key to the rest?