Here’s the link for Amazon, but they’re also available at DSP and most other outlets for the same prices.
So, other than that, all work and no play makes Amy a very dull writer…
Hiding the Moon: Part 8
Burton got back to the room in time to see Ernie pull back the covers, revealing the slightly rumpled sheets before he grabbed something from the back pocket of his jeans and laid down.
“What’s that?” Burton asked, his suspicion hitting him hard. No drugs. No X. None of that crap in his bed– “Oh.”
His entire body washed hot. A condom and lubricant.
“You just kept that in your pocket?” he asked. Ernie was stretching out luxuriously on the high thread-count cotton sheets, his soft pink body almost too delicate to be real.
“Sex keeps my brain safe,” Ernie said, a sad little smile on his face. “I don’t often get to have it with somebody I actually like.”
“You don’t even know me,” Burton mumbled, embarrassed. Like he was a reward or something. “And we’re not having–“
“Sh.” Ernie stood and placed two fingers over Burton’s lips. “Don’t lie,” he whispered. “Not now. You promised.”
Oh. It really had been a promise. Burton closed his eyes and licked Ernie’s fingers. Ernie moaned and shivered, tilting his head back like Burton’s mouth was a luxury, and Burton’s skin cried out for more. He sucked those fingers into his mouth all the way, and Ernie sagged against him, their skin soft from the shower, bare, clean, and warm.
He opened his eyes when Ernie pulled his fingers out with a pop and darted a wicked glance up from under thick black lashes.
“See?” Ernie said, voice as wicked as his eyes. “That wasn’t hard. Better things to do with your mouth than lie.” He punctuated this with a kiss along Burton’s shoulder, the glide of his lips down Burton’s collarbone, and little fingertip pucker-kisses down Burton’s other side. Burton slid his arms up Ernie’s biceps, feeling the hard little muscles under that soft, moon-pale skin. Ernie kept teasing him, his shoulders, his collarbones, his chest, until his lips accidentally on purpose brushed Burton’s nipples.
All the air left his body, and he whimpered. Oh God, so close… his nipples were tingling, and he wanted… he wanted…
Ernie paused, breath brushing the sensitive nerve bundle, and stuck out a teasing tongue. Burton, naked and needy, blurted out his biggest fear.
“I don’t know how to make love to a man.”
Ernie’s low breathy chuckle sent ripples of reaction across his skin. “Touch my face,” he whispered, lapping his nipple once.
Burton looked down at him and moved a tentative hand from his arm to his cheek. Ernie smiled shyly and stuck his tongue out again. He licked harder and Burton slid his fingers to that glossy dark hair and tightened them.
Ernie clamped his lips over the nipple and sucked hard.
Burton let out a moan and tried to keep his knees from buckling.
“Mm…” More sucking, and then Ernie traced a line to the other nipple, his hand flattening on Burton’s abdomen as he went. He suckled on the other side while the air teased the the first nipple and Burton cupped his skull through his hair.
“But you’re… ah… ah God… You’re… oh Jesus, Ernie… you’re doing all the work!”
Ernie popped off the second nipple and grinned again. “You’re letting me touch you.”
He was so beautiful.
Burton cupped his cheek again as he stood up straight, then bent his head and touched Ernie’s lips with his own.
Ernie’s mouth fell open and he melted into Burton’s arms, that sinuous, boneless kind of melt that Burton had felt girls do. The kind that said Ernie trusted Burton to take care of him, to touch him kindly, to not hurt him.
With a growl, Burton took over the kiss, ravished his mouth, backed him up to the bed where he went willingly.
He hit the mattress and scooted back, spreading his thighs wantonly, inviting Burton into the glow of him. Burton paused for a moment and took him in, and Ernie returned his stare.
They both covered their mouths, and Burton stared at him with wide eyes. They’d both said it. Whispered holy words at the same time.
Like a prayer.
Burton had to touch him. Had to run his fingers over his neck, his ribs.
He clamped his mouth over a pink nipple and sucked, gratified when Ernie arched his back and gasped. “Good,” he urged. “So good.”
The other one was just as delicious.
Ernie’s body underneath his responded with abandon, undulating against him. His cock wobbled, a wild thing, streaking a damp trail against Burton’s hip, his stomach, his inner thigh. As Burton plied his tongue Ernie gave a little cry and ground up against Burton’s groin. A hot spurt of precome spread between them.
“What do you want to do?” Ernie whispered, grinding again.
Burton collapsed against him, burying his face against Ernie’s throat and tried hard to pull himself together. With a girl, this would be the part where they fucked–mother nature’s lock and key–but this was a man, and the lock and key fit differently, and Burton needed the rules.
“Everything,” he said, half laughing into the haven of Ernie’s hair and his shoulder. “Kid, I want to eat you alive.”
“Then let’s start there.” Ernie kissed his forehead, a benediction of desire. “Go ahead, Lee. Touch it. Taste it. Do what you want done. No teeth, that’s all I ask.”
He smelled so good! Burton sucked on his neck then, licked to his earlobe, sucked that into his mouth and nibbled.
“That’s right,” Ernie hissed. “Just, you know, lower.”
Down. Every inch of skin a salty, smooth, sweet and naughty temptation. Burton paused at his happy trail, running his fingers through the surprisingly silky hair, then following it down, down, down…
It was all the encouragement he needed to wrap his fingers around it, surprised at the width, the length.
“Big,” he murmured, watching a shiny bit of fluid gather in the slit.
It fascinated him.
“Not as big as yours,” Ernie told him breathlessly, and Burton bucked against the bed, reminded that he needed release too.
“But I’m a bulkier guy.” It was almost purple now, as Burton stroked, and dripping, hot and… he stuck his tongue out and tasted.
Good. So good.
He shuddered and licked it some more.
In the back of his mind, Burton thought about teasing him, playing with his harp string, flirting his tongue along the edge of the bell. But not now. Not with Ernie bucking against his hand, and his precome filling his senses with the bitter salt of desire.
Not when he wanted so bad to feel it in the back of his throat.
“Go ahead,” Ernie begged. “God, Lee, please, I’m dying–ahhhhhh!”
It felt huge, filling his mouth, and he kept his lips over his teeth and let his mouth fill with spit, making himself a hot wet cave for Ernie to thrust in.
Ernie bucked, crying out, and Burton kept sucking, squeezing his base with every stroke.
“My balls,” Ernie begged. “Just… tug… a little harder… God yes! I’m coming–God, you need to–“
Taste. Burton needed to taste him.
He sucked harder, tugged harder, flirted his tongue when he pulled back, and Ernie kicked his feet into the mattress and came.
Wet and thick, it filled his throat and he swallowed.
It wasn’t oysters like the porn said, but it wasn’t bitter and he didn’t gag.
He swallowed again, cock aching, as Ernie continued to spasm at the ministrations of his hand and his mouth.
Finally Ernie went limp, his hands searching for purchase in the tiny shaved curls of Burton’s head. Burton let himself be urged up to Ernie’s shoulder, where he rested his cheek for a moment and arched his own hips, desperate fore release.
“You shouldn’t swallow unless you know my history,” Ernie said weakly, sounding guilty.
“We take PREP,” Burton said without self-consciousness. “It’s part of our hygiene protocol.” He didn’t add because there was often blood loss on both sides, but Ernie’s little chuff of air told him he got it. “What is your history?” He propped himself up on his elbow and looked soberly at Ernie.
“My history,” Ernie told him softly, skating his thumb over Burton’s cheekbone, “is that I’ve sucked a lot of dicks, and bent over for a lot of guys, but I’ve never looked into eyes like yours and thought I’ve wanted more.”
Burton closed his eyes and Ernie invaded his mouth with his thumb. A brief suck, a pop, and Ernie rubbed his lower lip.
“You still hard?” Ernie asked.
“Good. Because I…I would really like you to fuck me. Not fair, I know. You just spent all that time making me come and I just want more.”
Burton smiled, eyes still closed. “I want all of you.”
Something about Ernie’s voice, a break, a catch, something, made Burton open his eyes again. Ernie’s eyes were red-rimmed, like he was close to tears.
“I won’t be able to go back to strangers,” Ernie said, sounding helpless. “Not after this.”
A surge of possessiveness shook Burton to his toes. He pushed himself up and took Ernie’s mouth, hard, angry, needy. He pulled back and pinned Ernie with a glare.
“Good,” he said, voice hoarse. It wasn’t fair of him–he knew that. He had to leave this boy and go back into the surf of undercover, and claiming him wasn’t kind. But Burton had held Ernie’s cock in his mouth, had tasted his spend, and was going to bury himself in the heaven of his body, and Burton didn’t want him to belong to strangers.
Burton wanted Ernie to belong to him.
“You’re going,” Ernie murmured.
“But not yet.”
Burton kissed down his chin, down his neck, knowing where he was going this time.
Here, in this bed, their bodies bare and speaking the same language, he knew exactly what to do.
(I know, I know, it’s unfair to leave it here, but at least you know what the next part’s going to be, right?)