by Zeke Black
Who says you can't explore the stars on a rainy night?


A swirl of tongue around Chris's right nipple and a wide swath licked across the dip of his breastbone to his left nipple.


A tug of teeth on the tight bud, then a damp trail down ribs, abdomen, and over Chris's quivering belly to dip into the narrow crease of his navel.


Ezra's low voice like a caress, sultry counterpoint to Chris's hitched breathing: "Bitching hell...."

Ezra laughed, warm, moist air ruffling the hair at Chris's groin before Ezra nosed beneath his erection to tongue Chris's right ball, dainty as a cat licking a paw.


At the scrape of teeth on his left ball, Chris closed his fingers in Ezra's hair--

"Ursa Minor."

--but then relaxed, splay-legged, as Ezra rose to map six kisses along Chris's straining cock. Ezra looked up with heavy-lidded eyes, holding Chris's gaze as he pressed a seventh kiss to the weeping cockhead: An almost chaste touch, the ornery bastard--other than a flick of his tongue tip into the slit that made Chris hiss and his hips stutter up off the bed. Ezra chuckled again, smug as if he were holding kings over aces.

"Charles's Wain."

"Ezra, so help me, I ain't kidding--"

Strong, sure fingers smoothed moisture from the head of Chris's cock along the shaft, sliding the loosened foreskin with just the right squeeze and pull to make Chris's breath shorten and his vision glaze over. He wrapped his arm around Ezra's waist and jerked him close; Ezra obliged him, shifting so the hard stab of his own erection spread wet warmth against Chris's hipbone.

Chris splayed his hand over Ezra's ass and urged him into like rhythm. Ezra reared up over him, a gargantuan shadow on the ceiling mimicking his movement. Ezra's free hand cupped Chris's head on the pillow with a grip that was hard and tender at once, both bridle and anchor. Bolts of sensation arced between the friction heating their cocks in tandem, separate but joined.

Ezra's breathing matched Chris's now, quick as the thrust of Ezra's hips and his hand working Chris's cock. With his accent thick and sensual as a Louisiana night, Ezra spilled liquid vowels against Chris's skin, leaning close with his eyes, black as his shadow in the lantern light, still locked with Chris's.

"And the brightest star in the heavens--" he feathered kisses along Chris's jaw to breathe the final word, like a chunk of whiskey-flavored taffy, between Chris's parted lips "--Sirius."

"Fucking hell!"

Chris hooked a leg over the back of Ezra's thighs, wrapped his arm around the broad shoulders, and rolled them in a quick, tight move that set them abounce on the ropes while the bedstead creaked fit to raise the dead. Ezra, hand still clasping Chris's cock, careful and sure, laughed up at him while his smoky voice never stopped winding its spell, igniting the air itself between them. Chris gritted his teeth and lined them up belly to belly, stroking their cocks against each other--his hand tangling with Ezra's in the damp, hot space between them--in time to the tattoo of rain on the shingles.

Not a night for star-gazing, he'd said to Ezra on his arrival at the shack, idle tease for the odd pleasure Ezra occasionally took in lying on a blanket in the meadow at night, his eyes dreamy with memories he didn't need to share for Chris to recognize, of a wide-eyed child and a long-dead father pointing out the wonders of the sky.

He should've known better. Ezra had frowned up at him from under his dripping hat, but, in the space of a breath, his mouth had relaxed into a predatory quirk and his eyes had taken on the glint of avarice.

Oh, I don't know about that. And the world had narrowed to Ezra's intent focus on shoving Chris inside and kicking the door shut behind them, on getting them both naked, while, without stop, his honeyed voice raised gooseflesh on Chris's skin like the stroke of a third hand....

And they came, sweating like work ponies despite the chill night air, with double pulses rippling their bellies and two tides of heat wetting them in succession. Ezra, lying warm and pliant under him, fell silent at last, tongue curled with Chris's. After a few moments, with the pound of his blood filling his ears, Chris lifted his head away and shifted to lie on his side, keeping Ezra close. Ezra wouldn't be still for long, of course: More a comet blazing repeatedly across Chris's sky than a fixed star.

Chris smiled and settled down to enjoy the brief peace, inhaling the clean scents of sex and sweat and rain and with Ezra's hand a familiar weight on the back of his neck.


27 May 08

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