Re: Teach Me - Part XI

Date: 2011-01-15 12:06 am (UTC)
elrhiarhodan: (0)
From: [personal profile] elrhiarhodan
He didn’t know what he was thinking - that the young man in his arms would be a passive recipient of his kiss. Yes, Neal was inexperienced - but he was far from passive. And he seemed to be learning exponentially.

The hand that wasn’t holding on to Neal’s head had developed a mind of its own - and was gripping his waist, and sliding towards that sweet ass.

Neal’s hands were hot and smooth and surprisingly strong, sliding under his shirt, up his back, clawing at his shoulders. The blunt nails digging into his skin were a goad.

Yes, Neal’s lips were sweet, so was his tongue - at first tentative, then clever and wet and hot. Some detached part of his brain - the part that was still capable of coherent thought laughed at the young man’s attempts to take control of the kiss, and all of Peter’s dominant instincts kicked in.

Peter kissed Neal like he’d kiss another man in the prelude to sex, and Neal seemed to give as good as he got. And it wasn’t just a meeting of lips and tongues and teeth. Peter held him close - they were joined from thigh to shoulder and he suddenly didn’t care that Neal could feel his erection, because he could certainly feel Neal’s. It rode his thigh - not it, Neal - sliding up and down, thrusting against him, as hot and needy as his mouth.

It would be so easy to take him, to lay him down on the couch and strip him bare. It would be so easy to forget his rules and his personal morality and take what Neal was offering, to rut into that young, sweet body and keep him forever.

He tightened his grip on Neal’s head, his other had coming up and holding him tight. They danced around until he had Neal backed against a wall, a thigh between his legs and Neal was humping him in a rhythm syncopated with the thrusts of his tongue.

Peter pushed at Neal, ground him into the wall, his kiss harsh, greedy, without thought except for his own needs. But Neal wasn’t fighting him, he pushed back - instinctively seeking all the pleasure he could find. And find it he did, coming in a rush, scalding hot semen flowing out of his pants, painting a stain across Peter’s thigh.

Ironically, it was the heat and the wetness that broke through to Peter. He pulled away, appalled.

Neal leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. Panting.

“Neal...are you okay?” Peter was shaking, a combination of desire and fear.

He opened his eyes and smiled at Peter. And licked his lips. The look was pure temptation – wicked and still innocent.

“You know, Peter – if you didn’t want me to wait, you shouldn’t have kissed me like that.” Neal ran a hand down his body, stopping at his crotch. He rubbed lightly against the dark wetness.

Peter watched that hand the way a bird watched an approaching snake. He swallowed and looked back at Neal. How did he lose the upper hand here?

“Neal – I …”

The young man looked down at Peter’s groin, where his own erection was an obscene bulge against the soft material of his sweatpants.

“You enjoyed it too.”

“Damn it – Neal. Of course I did – way too much. I got carried away, I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Neal was unintentionally echoing Peter’s question from their drive home, another lifetime.

“I’m sorry for taking advantage, for taking your innocence. For doing everything to you that I promised I wouldn’t.” He ran his hands through his hair, as if yanking on it would somehow deflate his dick.

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want, and you didn’t take advantage.” He was all smiles and happiness. “You gave me something to dream about.” Neal’s voice was soft, almost as if he were talking to himself.

Somewhere in the house, a clock started to chime. It was ten o’clock – and Peter was reminded of the old and oft-quoted PSA “Do you know where your children are?”

“Neal – I’m going up to my room. I need to think – I need to …” I need to get rid of this erection, I need to think about how I am going to face you every day for the next four months, I need to understand how I am going to get through every day of the rest of my life without you.

Peter left the room, he didn't look back, but the image of Neal standing next to the fireplace – tall and straight and beautiful, with the dark stain spreading across his groin was something he'd never forget.
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