One does not wander hesitantly into the prompt of whipped cream. On the contrary, one tends to respond (in my world, anyway) with 2,300 words of smut. Especially when one has just stumbled over this on their dash:
It's okay, go ahead -- I'll give you a moment. Let me know when you're done.
So, to recap, our heroes have started talking, and have, no doubt, succeeded in freaking each other out to uncomfortable proportions. Queue the distraction. *grins*
Kelly? Your turn...
"What else you got?"
They weren't the only words that were ringing through Arik's mind as he descended to his knees, but they were the ones he clung to. He'd had no intention of chasing orgasmic bliss already, had been, in fact, starving. Yet as much as Hollywood made whipped cream enhanced flesh seem so very every day, Arik could count on one hand how many times he'd actually been offered the opportunity. He could count twice, even. Three times. Because zero multiplied by zero always remained the big old obnoxious 'oh' that it was.
It was not a chance he was going to let slip past him.
Besides, as conscience was refusing to allow Arik to forget, it hadn't really sounded like Blaze got a lot of payback from his world. It was time to change that, even if it would be, apparently, short-lived and non-committal. If asked, Arik wouldn't have admitted how much that thought burned at his guts. But he wasn't insisting on forever if all he could have was now. That was life. It sucked and it hardly seemed fair, but when was life ever truly fair anyhow?
The carpet was hard—a fine layer of cushion over the concrete or whatever it was that builders used to keep the moans and groans of guests from permeating other rooms—and it didn't matter in the least. Blaze's cock seemed to understand the potential of Arik's kowtow immediately. It rose in time to Arik's slide down Blaze's body, the whipped cream already softening into an entirely too pleasant visual aid.
Breath was the adjutant that completed the liquidation of cream and forced it to succumb to gravity. It dripped lewdly down Blaze's responding length, drawing Arik's oral attention as if it had demanded him. Blaze's skin smelled like cheap, floral soap, no doubt the scent of the small slabs provided by the hotel, and Arik grinned at imagined images of Blaze's duffel packed full of complimentary toiletries. Then he chased those thoughts away with concentrated effort, flattening his tongue and dragging it balls to tip along the underside of Blaze's dick. Pings of charge nipped at Arik's tongue, both thrilling and insistent, and Arik fell into the sensation, letting instinct and connection spur him forward.
He swallowed the head of Blaze's cock, no more, and sucked in a long, deep draw that pulled a startled gasp out of Blaze, and a hot pulse of reaction from Blaze's cock. Arik's tongue worked the perfect point of hard body even as the rest of his mouth kept the suction, and Arik had to force himself not to grin in pride when Blaze's hands flew to the edge of the cart in a useless grasp. White-knuckled, thigh muscles bunched tight, Blaze rolled his hips forward, requesting depth he was not granted. Instead, finger by finger, using what Arik could only hope was the same mind-melting spark he felt whenever Blaze touched him, Arik slowly wrapped his fist around the rest of Blaze's cock. Arik squeezed, Blake hissed, and the cart behind Blaze tilted threateningly as Blaze's knees buckled. With a curse, Blaze centered and firmed his posture. The wheels of the cart dropped back onto the carpeting, and both china and silver sang sharp octaves as they shuddered back into place.
A nicer man, Arik mused, would allow Blaze to find someplace more comfortable to lean. It was, however, too much of a thrill to watch Blaze force himself to remain cognizant to space and footing. It gave Arik a ridiculous surge of power to know he was making a puddle out of an otherwise powerful, seemingly perfectly-balanced human being. Even if that skill was esoterically boosted.
So what, something from the ugly depths of memory rose inside Arik to ask. Now you suddenly believe? Now it's not madness but games of passion? Trickery, it whispered. And you're a fool to follow it.
Arik squeezed his eyes shut, and brought his head back to the man in front of him. This was not the time to let the prattling of imagined scolders rule his head. Instead, Arik slid his fist and matched lip movement to offset the drag of skin, so that Arik was kissing the webbing of his own hand with every glide. It was only when Blaze shifted his stance, spreading his legs so that his balls fell free and granting Blaze a better angle, that Arik's musing began to suggest better ideas. For surely, it told Arik, if a tongue against hard dick could make a mind stutter and a body flail, it only made sense that the more sensitive the skin...
Arik drew away, releasing Blaze's body with both hand and mouth; a wet smack of lips the preface to Arik's command: "Bed."
Blaze caught Arik's gaze with his own, his expression bewildered and wide-eyed, as though Blaze had somehow forgotten translation. Arik rose, slid one arm around Blaze's hip, and leaned to press his lips against Blaze's ear. "Go. To. The bed."
The delight Arik got from watching Blaze's eyes dart around the room in confusion was self-serving and cruel, so he turned it off. Fine line, he told himself. Don't cross it.
With a nudge of his chin, Arik directed Blaze's line of sight towards the tousled sheets and misplaced pillows that covered the bed. Then Arik tightened the hold he had on Blaze's midsection and pulled Blaze away from the cart. He walked backwards, drawing Blaze along with him, their bodies so close that they had to shorten their steps to make it work. Not that Arik minded one bit. Blaze's cock danced between them, smearing wet, clinging fluid on Arik's hoodie — fluid that seemed to insist that even if they had to be apart, it was going to string them together in one way or another. It was reasoning that made Arik's own hard body throb inside his pajama pants.
Arik stopped when his calves met the bed frame. Arik turned, a slow dance of repositioning, foot over foot, Blaze's arms around Arik's shoulders, Blaze's fingers digging into muscle, and Arik couldn't keep his lips from searching out Blaze's in a long kiss. It was a kiss that Blaze followed, with his mouth still moving and his breath still panting, when Arik drew away from it.
"On the bed," Arik murmured.
"Don't go," Blaze said suddenly, his fingers clamping and his expression hardening. As if, somehow, for some reason, letting go meant parting. As if, somehow, for some reason, the fall onto the mattress would mean disappearing altogether. Like it waited to swallow him away. Like that moment had been the one written in as the pinnacle of their rendezvous. Like it was already over.
"Not even one step," Arik promised.
Blaze sat, and Arik smiled. "Not like that." Arik lowered his hand to Blaze's shoulder, directing him with a light touch. "Lay on the mattress, face down."
"Lube..." Blaze suggested, starting to rise.
Arik shook his head. "Don't need it." He waited for Blaze's head tilt to pass, for Blaze to resettle as directed, and then guided one of Blaze's legs into a crook on the mattress. Blaze's other leg was off the bed, foot on the floor, so that he seemed to crouch over the end of it. Arik placed both hands on Blaze's ass, and massaged the two muscles to expose the heated hole between them. "I'm not done tasting you yet."
A low groan sounded from Blaze's throat, and Blaze buried his face into the mess of tangled cotton underneath him. Blaze's hips tilted, his fingers found pointless holds, and even his balls twitched and tightened under Arik's visual adoration.
And I haven't even touched him yet. Another thought that had Arik's cock dancing for consideration. All the gods in heaven could not have held Arik back any longer, he was sure of it. Arik dropped to his knees, fell forward, and swiped his tongue over Blaze's asshole. Blaze's breathy verbalizations didn't need to be recognizable as they were huffed through the sheets. Inflection and tone were enough to identify them as praise. Arik teased with feathery flicks of his tongue; wetting, coating, enticing. When Blaze began to whimper, Arik began to run his tongue up and down Blaze's cleft, Arik's right hand massaging slow circles into Blaze's lower back. Such a beautiful physique. Perfect structure. Awesome taste.
"Arik... " Blaze's spine seemed fluid; Blaze's body a slither of form into mattress. He jerked his head to the left, looked over his shoulder and groaned. "Please... "
If Blaze had any more of an idea what he was asking for than Arik did, Blaze wasn't saying. So Arik took his direction from imagination, located Blaze's tight hole with his tongue again, and began to wriggle the muscle into Blaze's body. The sound Blaze made wasn't human. But it was fucking beautiful to hear. Almost as gorgeous as the way that Blaze's hips began to hump the mattress, his back muscles tensing and trembling. Blaze's other leg slipped to find a way to hold himself open wider. If the sensation coursing through Blaze's blood was even a fraction of what Arik felt when Blaze touched him... the man had to be losing his mind.
Arik watched it all, drinking in Blaze's reactions, piercing Blaze's asshole with his tongue in a drive that was too deep for Arik's jaw to maintain comfortably. Discomfort was not, however, any reason for Arik to stop. Not this time. Hell no. The only thing that mattered was the giving — making the pleasure stream off Blaze's body.
This was Blaze's turn, a moment of unadulterated satisfaction without duty or function. Because try as he might, Arik couldn't shake the idea of Blaze's quests, be they truth or fiction of mind, as some kind of purgatorial existence. For the few, the thousands (God could only know the true numbers), Arik hadn't gotten the impression there'd been a lot of enjoyment sent Blaze's way. "If it's just a comfort thing, that's fine too," Blaze had told him, the nonchalance behind the words suggesting familiarity with the concept. So what then? Go where I tell you, do what I want you to do, offer yourself up wherever, whenever, however you are directed. The Universe's Whore. A puppet on strings. Obey or pay.
What a crock of bullshit. Worse if it was true. Not that Arik had ever had to find another reason to hate the mystical.
Arik's grip tightened on Blaze's ass, and he sought for deeper drive and sweeter sensitivity. He searched out every dangling tendril of those spark-infused, manipulative, bastard strings, collected them up in his head, and used them as a whole to stroke Blaze's mental and physical everything.
Blaze whispered, whimpered, and begged while his body squirmed, contorted, and fucked the bed. Arik gave up on holding flesh apart and let his left hand seek out the path his right was already on, finding and caressing the rolling muscles of Blaze's back.
"That... " Blaze panted. "You... Make... Ah, fuck!" Blaze's knee finally caught a hold on the edge of the bed and the center of his being split wide and willing. Arik leaned closer still, worked Blaze's spit-soaked hole furiously, and groaned at the way Blaze's walls tried to both grip and pull his tongue deeper. Sparks danced between fingertips and torso, Arik's mouth felt alive with electricity, and he had no choice but to drop his right hand to his pants, release his own cock and start stroking it mercilessly — lest he lose his mind.
"Make me... " Blaze's voice dropped to a mewl of need. "You're going to make me... "
Arik trailed his fingertips down Blaze's spine, shoulder to lower back, and down the slick path his tongue had worked up. Then it was both tongue and finger. Both tongue and a couple of fingers. It was sputtered curses and ragged breaths. It was fucking and kissing, of the most erotic nature possible, and it was the hottest damn moment of Arik's life. Twice he had to still the hand on his own cock, twice he was forced to swallow back the waves of orgasm that threatened him, and when everything began to culminate in a greedy, heady fuck-everything-else-I-need-to-come-NOW rush, Arik finally gave up the scintillating penetration his fingers kept insisting on, to shove his hand underneath Blaze's hips and squeeze Blaze's cock.
That was all it took. One squeeze. Blaze hollered, screwed his eyes closed, and thrust into the grip. Blaze's body shuddered from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, and warm fluid pumped over Arik's fingers, soaking the sheets.
Without even bothering to remove his grip, Arik kissed the small of Blaze's back, straightened his spine, and shot his own load over the spread core of Blaze's ass. It was more than a mere release of pressure — the spatters that painted Blaze's body were nothing less than bliss liquified into a tangible mess of body fluid. It seemed as if it was Arik's core, sputtering out of the end of his cock, to mark Blaze as his own. If only for that moment.
Arik rested his heaving chest and sweat-slicked forehead on Blaze's back, bit back the words of endearment his tongue tried to voice, and instead, Arik chuckled. "The chambermaids are going to hate us."
"My, God," Blaze gasped under Arik's weight. "If we keep up this pace, I'm going to hate us."
Arik shook his head, "Not I. Not for a single moment. That was fan-fucking-tastic."
"It was," Blaze murmured. "But can we eat for real now?"
"Ayup," Arik laughed. "We certainly can."
To be continued...
Until next time!
Tune in next week for more.