Patchouli For Christmas (5 page)

“Sorry. Just wanted to be sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The tender smile Jude gave him made his heart jump a little. “Never mind. It was sweet of you to ask.” The smile turned ferocious. “Now get your damn clothes off before I rip into that fancy silk shirt made from the suffering and deaths of a thousand innocent little silkworms.”

Michael groaned, but quickly complied while Jude stripped off his own pants. They fell naked onto the rumpled bed. Michael rolled Jude under him and took his mouth in another fierce kiss. He wanted to be on top, this time at least.
Had
to be on top—ached to bury himself in Jude.

Jude seemed okay with it. He wrapped his strong legs around Michael’s waist and pulled him in until their cocks ground together, shooting sparks of hot pleasure through Michael’s belly and straight up his spine.

He pulled away. “Don’t want to come like this. Want to be in you.” He reached for the condom and slipped it on, then knelt between Jude’s legs and brushed his balls lightly, not touching his cock. He wanted to taste that too, but he thought Jude was as close to exploding as he was, and he didn’t want it to be over so soon.

Instead, he contented himself with a good long look as he pushed Jude’s thighs farther apart and rubbed a lubed finger along his crease. Not the longest dick he’d ever seen, but well shaped and thick. It leaned a little to the left. Just like Jude. He grinned at his joke and then quickly hid it. He didn’t want Jude to think he was laughing at him. Nothing could be further from the truth. Jude’s cock fit him perfectly.

To show his approval, he leaned forward and gave it a little lick along the shaft. Mistake. It tasted so wonderful. Salty. Musky. Essence of Jude. Maybe he should suck him off first?

“No,” Jude groaned as if reading his mind. “Not yet.”

Michael backed off a little and focused his attention again on his fingers. He pressed against the little bud and glanced up at Jude as he penetrated his warm channel.

Jude had propped himself up on his elbows so he could see Michael. He’d drawn his legs up and pushed his knees wide to give Michael room to work. His face was flushed, but he didn’t seem to be in pain. Michael added a second finger. He stroked the smooth walls, and Jude dropped his head back as his elbows seemed to collapse under him.

He pushed down against Michael’s fingers. “More. It’s okay.”

Michael added a third finger and pumped it in and out slowly. He fondled Jude’s ass with his other hand. He thought about how that ass looked stuck up in the air and the lovely curve of Jude’s back.

He slipped his fingers out. “Turn over.”

Jude rolled to his hands and knees and Michael cupped his ass again. He ran his palm down Jude’s back and frowned. He couldn’t see his face now, and he wanted to make sure Jude was ready. More than that—he wanted to see the dazed look in the dark eyes dissolve into ecstasy. Most of all, he wanted to kiss Jude while they fucked. “Um… Sorry. Maybe it would be better if you were on your back.”

Jude sighed and flipped over. He propped himself up on his elbows again and gazed at Michael as he settled back between Jude’s thighs.

Jude quirked an eyebrow. “How on earth do you stay in business? I hope you’re not always this indecisive.”

Was Jude laughing at him? Michael glared. “I’m not. It’s your fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re like…like…a smorgasbord.”

“What?”

“Once, I did a wedding where the caterer created this fantastic dessert buffet. All kinds of chocolate-covered fruits. Tortes filled with buttercream. Éclairs dripping with caramel.” He stroked Jude’s thighs while he talked. “He told me I could sample. I walked up and down that table and wanted everything.”

“So what did you finally choose?” Jude asked in that same tone of exaggerated patience he’d used when he’d asked Michael whether he wanted sugar with his tea.

Michael barely noticed, being somewhat distracted by the tightly muscled thighs he stroked. “Hmm? Oh, nothing. The guests started arriving, and I got busy.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jude let his arms collapse, and his head fell back on the pillow with a thump. “I sure hope that’s not going to happen here.”

Michael grinned. “It won’t.”

“Good. ’Cause I know you want my ass, but you’ve got about two seconds before you end up on the bottom, buddy.”

“Oh.” Michael paused. “Hmm, that sounds…”

“Ah, hell,” Jude muttered. “What was I thinking, giving you yet another option?”

Michael laughed and leaned forward to smother Jude’s pouting mouth in a kiss. He gripped himself and slowly pushed inside Jude, then gave a quick thrust and stopped halfway.

“Okay?” he mumbled against Jude’s mouth. It came out a bit strangled. He fought the urge to slam home.

“Yes,” Jude gasped. “More.”

Michael reared back and then buried himself to the root. He held still as he tried to keep from coming like a teenager on his first date. The warmth and tightness of the channel clamped around him felt like pure pleasure. He leaned forward until he found Jude’s mouth again. Jude returned the kiss and pulled his legs up until his heels pressed against Michael’s back.

“Move,” he whispered into Michael’s mouth.

Michael began thrusting. He made it long and deep, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing in again with excruciating slowness.

Jude’s head dropped back, but he never loosened his grip around Michael’s neck. “So good,” he murmured.

After a few minutes, Jude ran his hands down Michael’s back to land on his hips. He began pulling, as if urging Michael to speed things up.

Michael thought briefly about trying to get a hand between them to jerk Jude off in time to the thrusts, but they were so tight against each other he didn’t think it would fit. Judging by his flushed skin and panting mouth, Jude was doing all right without it.

Michael buried his face in the curve where Jude’s neck met his shoulder and breathed in his salty scent. Only the faintest underlying hint of patchouli remained. He increased the pace until he slammed a grunt out of Jude with every thrust. Or maybe those were his own moans and whimpers?

He trailed his lips down Jude’s neck. The tingling began at the base of his spine and built until jolts of electric pleasure ran along his length and then burst from him in wave after wave of pulsing heat. His cries were muffled by the warm skin of Jude’s shoulder against his mouth.

A second later he heard Jude cry out, and then warm fluid flooded the close space between their bellies. Michael kept thrusting slowly, despite the fact he was now so sensitive that each movement made him shiver. When he felt the tension leave Jude’s body, Michael relaxed and simply lay on top of him for a moment. Jude’s arms slipped away and Michael pulled out. He pulled off the condom, tied it, and tossed it into the trashcan by the desk.

Michael used the edge of the sheet to wipe most of the cum from himself and from Jude’s stomach.

Jude smiled sleepily. “I made a mess, didn’t I?”

“A beautiful mess.” Michael stretched out, and they drifted off.

A little while later, Jude stirred and then sat up. “If I needed a shower before, I must reek now. I’m going to jump in.”

In Michael’s experience, this signaled the end of the evening, never mind that it was only late afternoon now. Same principle. Anyway, he had some phone calls to make, and Jude was probably ready to get back to his painting or his cause of the day or whatever he’d originally planned for the afternoon.

He rolled out of bed and reached for his pants. “I should probably get going.”

Jude seemed a little startled. “That’s not what I meant. Unless… I mean, do you want to leave?”

Did he? “I have a few things I need to get done. I’m sure you do too.”

“Oh. Well, if you need to go. Okay.” Jude opened his mouth to say something else. What? Call me? But he didn’t say it. Maybe he didn’t want Michael to call him? Michael didn’t, usually. He’d always been content to leave things at a single encounter, or at least to leave it to the other guy to call him and set up another time to meet, if they both wanted that.

Confused, Michael didn’t say anything. He stood holding his pants. Jude stared at him for a moment. Michael couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Then Jude turned and went into the bathroom. A moment later, Michael heard the shower start.

Slowly, he pulled on his briefs and his pants. He wondered where his shoes were. In the living room? He didn’t recall kicking them off, but obviously he had.

He picked up his shirt and then stood staring at the bathroom door. What had that last expression meant? Did Jude want Michael to stay? For what? Round two? Then why was he taking a shower? Maybe he’d actually meant to invite Michael into the shower with him, but Michael had been too dumb to get that?

The real question was—did Michael want to stay? If he did, there was a whole lot of potential here for the kind of entanglement he’d always tried to avoid.

Still carrying his shirt, he moved to the bathroom doorway and peered in. The shower had a clear plastic door. Jude stood under the stream of water with his head bent and his arms crossed as if hugging himself. He didn’t move.

Damn
. Michael berated himself for being an insensitive asshole. But staying would make things worse because sooner or later Michael would screw things up even more than he already had. Better to leave now before he could do further damage.

Then Jude shifted to lean one arm against the wall as if propping himself up and rubbed his face with his other hand.

Double damn
. Michael stripped and threw his clothes on top of the desk before stepping into the bathroom.

When he opened the shower door, Jude jumped back, startled. He stared up at Michael with reddened eyes. From the water in the shower? Or from crying? As if aware that his eyes betrayed him, Jude quickly looked back down at the tiled floor.

Michael took his chin and urged his face up. He wanted to kiss away the distress he’d caused, but Jude pulled away from Michael’s hand.

“I thought you had to go.” Jude’s voice was low and difficult to hear over the rush of water, but Michael got the message when Jude twisted away, with his shoulder to Michael and his gaze back on the floor.

Michael took his arm and tried to pull him back. The muscles under his hand felt tight and solid. Jude resisted, and Michael couldn’t turn him without putting a lot more power behind it, and he wasn’t about to force him. Not that he would have been successful anyway. Jude could probably kick his ass if he wanted to.

But Michael didn’t give up. He just decided to kiss whatever parts he could reach. He kissed Jude’s shoulder. He pushed Jude’s hair aside and kissed his nape. He stroked his arms, his back, and along his ribs, all the while giving him little pleading kisses on every bit of skin he could reach.

He kept his hands and his kisses above the waist. Gradually he felt the tense muscles relax, and once again he took Jude’s shoulders to coax him around. Jude came reluctantly; the fight had gone out of him. When Michael took his mouth, he tensed again, but Michael made it slow and gentle and was rewarded by the softening of Jude’s mouth and body.

When it seemed the last bit of tension had dissipated, he drew away. Michael reached for the soap and handed Jude the shampoo. He began to wash, and after a moment Jude did the same.

They swapped soap, shampoo, and then their places under the cascading water for a final rinse. Michael got out first and found the stack of clean towels on a shelf by the sink. He dried himself hastily and then stood holding a fresh towel open to receive Jude when he stepped out. Jude’s eyes were wide as Michael wrapped him in the towel. He opened his mouth to speak but Michael kissed him quiet. After drying him, Michael led him to the bed.

Michael maneuvered Jude so that he sat on the edge of the bed. As he knelt on the floor between Jude’s open legs, he rested his hands on Jude’s knees and then kissed the inside of each thigh before licking his way up warm skin, still damp from the shower. When he reached Jude’s balls, he gave them each a rough swipe with his tongue. He smiled as he heard Jude gasp.

Jude had barely begun to stiffen when Michael drew him into his mouth. He suckled him gently, savoring the strange and wonderful feeling of a small, soft dick growing large and hard.

Jude stared down at him. He didn’t move. Michael concentrated on giving the best blowjob he’d ever given. When Jude’s cock was hard and Michael tasted precum, he began bobbing his head more rapidly, sucking and swallowing as much of Jude as he could manage. He ignored his own growing hard-on in his effort to focus on Jude.

Jude finally gripped the back of Michael’s head and thrust as he made helpless little whimpering noises. Then he gave one loud moan, and Michael’s mouth flooded with salty fluid. He swallowed it all and licked him clean as Jude collapsed backward onto the bed.

Michael climbed up and settled next to him. He turned Jude so he could spoon him, his chest to Jude’s back. Easier to talk that way, without having to see Jude’s face. Jude let Michael position him. His limbs seemed limp, and he gasped for breath. Michael held him while he recovered.

Finally Jude gave a sigh and his breathing returned to normal. “I like the way you apologize,” he murmured.

Michael nuzzled the back of his neck. After a moment, he said, “I don’t date much. I’m not very good at it. One-night stands or maybe seeing someone casually for a few weeks—that’s the most I’ve ever managed. Guys I’ve been with expect you to leave when you’re done. They don’t ask me to stay, and I don’t ask them.” He stroked Jude’s hair while he talked to the back of his neck. “You’re not like them. I shouldn’t have acted you like you were. But—”

“But?”

“I don’t know any other way to act.”

There was silence for a long moment.

“If you had asked one of them,” Jude suggested softly, “maybe he would have stayed.”

The breath caught in Michael’s throat. He closed his eyes against an unexpected sting and pressed his cheek into Jude’s hair. “Maybe,” he whispered.

After a moment, he took a shuddering breath. Then, in what was no doubt a very obvious attempt to get out of the awkward moment, he turned on to his back and pulled Jude with him until the young man lay with his head on Michael’s chest.