The Lord Won't Mind (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (3 page)

“I can take them off,” Peter said simply with a smile and a shrug, going along with the game. He stooped and unfastened the buckles and kicked them off. Charlie’s heart accelerated as he watched this small prelude to stripping. He went to Peter and took his arm and moved him to the door and backed him against the jamb. Now that he had an excuse for touching him, he was less fearful of betraying himself. He inhaled the smell of him, fresh and scrubbed and faintly animal. He lifted his hands and straightened Peter’s head, carefully avoiding his eyes but letting his fingers linger in the silk of his hair. He flattened the shoulders and felt the firm muscles of Peter’s chest under his shirt. He dropped his hands to his hips and adjusted them. Here, he was within inches of his goal, but he could take his time now. Touching Peter in this way dissipated somewhat the potent mystery of his body, and Charlie’s nerves eased.

He placed the end of the tape on the mark and gave Peter a little pat. “OK, I’ve got it.”

Peter moved out, and together they measured the distance to the floor. “Right.” Charlie gave the tape to Peter and took his place, still avoiding his eyes. Standing flat against the door brought his sex thrusting forward beneath the towel, but Peter took no visible notice of it, nor did his hands explore as Charlie’s had. He simply placed the tape and nodded. They measured the jamb once more.

“I thought so,” Charlie said. “But the difference is damn little. Barely a quarter of an inch. OK. Take off your shirt.”

“My shirt? What for?”

“So we can do our chest measurements.”

“Oh, sure. OK.” Peter remained noncommittal and placidly cooperative. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. Charlie stood before him with the tape, inhaling once more the smell of soap and fresh linen, his vision filled with the boy’s nakedness. He was superb—wide-shouldered, slim-waisted, smoothly muscled, hairless.

“You’ve got quite a build,” Charlie said, openly admiring him. This was permitted.

“If it’s anywhere near as good as yours, I’m satisfied.”

“The mutual admiration society. Well, come on. Let’s get on with it.” He was still able to be brisk and matter-of-fact, but it required all his control to refrain from taking the golden body in his arms as he moved in close to make the measurement. Peter stood before him looking touchingly attentive and willing. Willing for what? Charlie still wondered if he had an inkling of where this was leading. Willing only to have his chest measured? Peter raised his arms away from his sides. Charlie slipped the tape around him, and as he lifted it into place he ran the backs of his hands over his nipples and felt them contract and harden. Something was going on behind that untroubled exterior. He marked the tape with his thumb and showed it to Peter. “OK, my turn.” He handed over the tape and lifted his arms, all his nerves alert to the contact of Peter’s hands. If desire was stirring in him too, surely some hint of it would now insinuate itself into his fingers. Peter’s hands moved nimbly, scarcely touching him until they joined the tape on his chest.

“Practically the same. Maybe a hair more,” he reported. He laughed briefly. “That is, if you had any hairs.”

“Fine. Now, you’ll have to undo your top button.” Peter did so, revealing the secret little coil of navel in the flat stomach. Charlie eased the top of the shorts down as he circled his waist with the tape. So close now. He had never wanted anybody so much in his life, nor gone to such lengths to conceal it. “Twenty-nine. That’s about what I should be. I’m beginning to think we’re the same person.” He allowed his hand to press against Peter’s as he returned the tape. His mind was whirling, but he could see no reason to postpone the next move. There could be nothing suspect about getting rid of the towel that was bunched around his waist. On the contrary, it would seem foolishly modest to go on hiding behind it. The moment had come. If Peter could get through this without any loss of composure, he would give him up as hopeless. He gave the towel a tug and dropped it from him and stood boldly, confidently naked. His sex was extended to its fullest limits before actual erection, prodigious but blameless. He had walked through locker rooms this way and had felt all eyes on him. He thrust his hips forward and lifted his arms slowly and sought his eyes, coming as close to an outright offer of himself as he dared. Peter’s eyes met his with a curiously stricken look—pleading for a further clarifying move? Appalled at Charlie’s advances? And then Charlie saw the long lashes flutter against his cheeks as Peter lowered his lids. He saw the color rush to his face. Peter lifted his hands hesitantly, perhaps reluctantly, and there was a tremor in them as he fumbled with the tape. He had trouble getting it around Charlie’s waist; he seemed unable to complete the circle against his abdomen.

Charlie laughed with growing certainty and anticipation. “Hey. Come on. It’s twenty-nine, isn’t it?” Peter nodded dumbly, without lifting his eyes. “Wait a minute,” Charlie exclaimed. “We’ve forgotten something. We ought to see if we can wear each other’s hats.” He was backtracking deliberately, giving himself a moment’s respite before making the irrevocable move. He retrieved the tape and took a step closer, directing his body so that his sex brushed against Peter’s hand. The hand shot away as if it had been scalded, but he saw Peter’s mouth and throat working as if he were having trouble swallowing and a pulse in the base of his neck began throbbing visibly. As he placed the tape around the golden head, it was without design that his sex kept nudging Peter’s thigh. He wasn’t going to be able to play this game much longer.

“Plenty of room for brains in there,” he said rather breathlessly.

Peter took the tape and moved back slightly and to one side. His eyes seemed no longer to focus properly. His face was drawn, his breath rapid. As he lifted his arms Charlie saw sparse golden curls in his armpits. A single pearl of sweat was rolling down his ribs. His fingers trembled against Charlie’s brow as he announced the result.

“Good,” Charlie said, struggling to maintain the hearty tone he had used throughout. He moved around behind Peter. He didn’t want to be caught with an erection until Peter had definitely committed himself, and he knew he couldn’t hold himself down much longer. “You’re going to have to pull those shorts lower,” he ordered. “It’d be simpler if you’d just take them off.”

“Well, I—” Peter mumbled.

“It doesn’t matter. Just so I can get the hip measurement.” Nobody could say that he had insisted; he had stuck to the rules he had laid down at the beginning.

Peter unfastened something, and the rich curve of his buttocks slid into view. Charlie’s sex instantly swelled and rose heavily before him. He had to step back to give it room.

“Talk about slim hips,” he said to steady himself. “I’m afraid you have me there.” He felt terribly exposed, fearful that Peter might turn and see him. He checked the position of the towel on the floor. He could always grab it and run for the bathroom if it turned out that he had misjudged his companion after all. He took a deep breath and made an effort to steady the trembling of his hands. Peter was gripping his lowered shorts. Charlie slipped the tape against his hips and led it around along his lower abdomen until his hand encountered crisp coils of hair. He paused, pretended to straighten the tape, fumbled skillfully, retrieved it with a quick flip of his lowered hand. It encountered a hard knot of sex contained in the shorts. He expelled a long sigh of relief as the knowledge of victory burst over him, and felt no longer exposed but proudly prepared. His sex surged up in complete, straining erection. He completed the measurement quickly, but instead of following the routine they had established, he said, “While I’m at it, I might as well see about this.” He slipped a hand within the shorts and grapsed hot, hard flesh. He pushed at the elastic, freeing Peter’s sex, and it sprang up and burst its bonds. Peter uttered a gasp that was almost a cry, but he didn’t move.

“I can’t help it,” he muttered thickly. “Your touching me and—”

Before the staggering fact of Peter at last revealed, Charlie thought for an instant that he had been surpassed. A quick glance for comparison reassured him. It was more slender than his and an inch or two shorter, just the way Charlie would have wished it, big without threatening his supremacy. He laughed exultantly.

“Don’t worry about helping anything,” he said with laughter in his voice. He moved around so that they were facing each other again. “Look at me. Anyway, we have to be like this if we’re going to measure everything properly. That’s part of the whole thing. Look. We’re tremendous.”

Peter kept his eyes averted, his mouth working. “What’s the point of measuring? I’m not as big as you are,” he managed finally.

“That’s nothing. I’ve never met anybody who was. You damn nearly are. There’s probably less difference than you think.” To ease Peter’s evident distress, to relieve him of self-consciousness at the start, he maintained the pretense of cheerful, scientific detachment. He crouched down, and Peter’s sex leaped and quivered before him, the head as taut and smooth as ripe fruit. He ran his tongue over his lips and opened his mouth, but checked himself. He would wait another moment before any direct love play. Everything that had happened up to now could be written off as a physiological accident, without erotic significance. Peter still hadn’t made any overt move. He pulled down the shorts and scanty underwear and lifted each big foot in turn to disentangle them. He applied the tape to the leaping sex, allowing his hands to become cautiously caressing and making no attempt at accuracy. It became as rigidly immobile as steel under his touch, and he saw the boy’s knees begin to tremble. He straightened and handed over the tape, his thumb on the mark, giving him an extra inch. He took Peter’s arm and guided him around and backed him up, their sexes playing against each other as they moved, and forced him gently down on the edge of the bed. “There,” he said, “you can get at me better that way.”

As Peter sat uneasily on the edge of the bed and leaned forward with the tape, Charlie swung his hips slightly so that his sex struck Peter’s cheek and brushed down across his lips. Peter’s eyes closed, his mouth dropped open. He looked as if he were going to faint. Then he flung himself back on the bed with a great cry as he was gripped by the paroxysms of orgasm. His hip thrashed, his sex leaped up with a wild life of its own, his arms beat the bed, his whole body was shaken by the spasms of an enormous ejaculation. Charlie stood over him, amazed, close to orgasm himself. At last, with a groan and shudder that ran through his whole body, Peter lay still.

“That’s marvelous,” Charlie said wonderingly. “It’s really sweet. I hardly even touched you.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Peter murmured in a stricken voice. His eyes were closed, he lay inert and spent. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

“I can’t see anything the matter with you,” Charlie said with happy laughter. “I almost came myself.” Peter’s legs were trembling. Charlie briefly hugged the feet against his chest before he lifted them and swung them onto the bed. The small act of possession brought him close to orgasm once more. He picked up the towel from the floor and stretched out beside Peter. He wiped Peter’s cheeks where he had splashed himself, his neck, his shoulders, his chest. The head of his sex was lying in a little pool formed by his navel. It had shrunk slightly, but as he wiped it, it sprang up again into full erection. Charlie chuckled at the lively response. All that trouble and the crazy kid had been dying for it the whole time. Shy. Probably not much experience. He wondered if his tastes were fixed. He let his eyes roam appreciatively over his conquest. He looked rather slight in his clothes, but there was so much of him, all of it beautiful. Charlie had known him less than three hours, and he already felt a potential intimacy between them that seemed to fill all the corners of his life. He glanced at the closed eyes and then ran his hand down over his chest and made a ring of thumb and two fingers and encircled the rigid sex. He ran his hand down to its base and encountered the crisp curls that had been his introduction to the secret area. He gathered the balls into the palm of his hand and watched the skin pucker and tighten. Peter’s whole body was alive to his touch. His own sex was aching with the prolongd tease he had subjected it to. He hoped Peter wasn’t the sort that just wanted his own off and was indifferent to his partner.

He tossed the towel away and slipped his hands under Peter’s shoulders and helped him pull himself up completely onto the bed. As he did so, he put his mouth on a nipple and nuzzled it with his lips and tongue. Peter cried out ecstatically and his body jerked in his arms. Charlie lifted his head and looked at him with a flash of comprehension.

“Haven’t you ever done anything like this before?” he asked. Peter rolled his head on the pillow in negation, his eyes still closed. “My God, I can’t believe it. With your looks, I should’ve thought everybody would be falling all over themselves after you.”

“I was afraid to. I don’t know. I wouldn’t. I thought it was wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong. It’s great.”

Peter opened his eyes. Tears were in them, and a reluctant, ambiguous plea. “Have you done it before?” he asked.

“Well, sure. Hundreds of times.”

“How did you know I was—Did you know it was going to happen with us?”

“I didn’t
know
. I thought it might. I hoped it would.”

“I guess I did too, from the minute I saw you, but I tried not to think about it. You’re going to have to show me. I don’t know how to act. You’re going to have to teach me everything.”

“That won’t be any great hardship,” Charlie said with a chuckle. “Just do anything you feel like.” He lowered his head and put his mouth on Peter’s. He met with closed lips, but he ran his tongue along them, inviting entrance. Peter’s mouth opened slightly, their tongues met, and then their mouths were devouring each other and they were seized by a storm of lust—legs thrashing, arms gripping, their bellies and chests writhing against each other, their sexes, hard columns of flesh, lifted in an insurmountable barrier between them. Charlie ran his hand down Peter’s back encompassing the full smooth curve of buttocks. He slipped his hand between them. Peter’s hips were agitated by brief thrusting spasms, and the muscles of his buttocks quivered in welcome of the invasion. He wrenched his mouth from Charlie’s and threw his head back, his chest heaving, his breath coming in gasps, his mouth open, uttering moans of ecstasy.