Velvet Memories (3 page)

“Set of ten?” Michael nodded in acknowledgement, and Rob moved in and slid his hands into position under the heavy weight. He deliberately ignored the way the tilt of his body put his crotch almost directly over Michael’s face. And if Michael was looking at his junk, well he ignored that, too.

“One
…
” he counted for Michael, who was now entirely focused on his lifting. Rob was focused on the lifting, too. Focused on the way Michael’s pale skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat; on the way his muscles and veins popped with the strain.

“Four, five
…
” Those full lips were pressed flat, pulled slightly back in a grimace. He sucked in air, and Rob was almost hypnotized by the way his belly hollowed, putting his ribcage in sharp relief. A lot of the guys lifted without a shirt on, but this was the first time Rob had really paid attention. Now he wondered with a sort of terror if he’d ever be able to ignore it again.

“Eight, nine
…
” Michael was grunting now with every lift. His arms were shaking just a tiny bit, and Rob dragged his attention back to the task of spotting. No way was he going to let Michael get hurt because he was busy with his tongue hanging out at the way that one bead of sweat was trailing down Michael’s chest before pausing on his nipple.

Fuck.

“Ten.”

Oh, thank God.

Instead of sliding free and sitting up, though, Michael seemed to sink into the bench. Arms falling limp over his head, he just laid there with his eyes closed and kept dragging in air. Rob raked his gaze the length of Michael’s body. It didn’t mean anything, just like the ancient Greeks.

He had a boner, a raging one and as he ate Michael up with his eyes, he realized the other guy did, too. His eyes whipped upward, taking in Michael’s slightly open mouth and the way those blue eyes were now locked on his face.

He was moving again, body working without his brain’s permission, sliding around to stand beside the weight bench. Michael was so hot, so vulnerable, and Rob needed to touch him. He’d never felt like this, like every inch of his skin was sensitized, like every cell in his body was just waiting for the sensation of skin on skin.

Fuck standing next to the weight bench. Rob moved to straddle the bench, to straddle Michael’s body, supine and still beneath him.

“What
…
?” Michael’s hand raised, pressed palm down on Rob’s chest. No. He didn’t give Michael a chance to finish, just caught the slender, long-fingered hand in his own and pushed it back over Michael’s head. “Rob?”

The confusion in those blue eyes, the hesitation in his voice, it just made Rob flat-out crazy. He loved it like this, having Michael all but helpless beneath him, confused and floundering. Nothing had ever been this hot. Not the first time Andrea Zeller sucked him off in the baseball dugout. Nothing.

“Hush,” he muttered, pressing his thumb over Michael’s mouth before the other guy could keep talking and shatter the moment. He was pressing hard, and the full, damp lips parted a little, giving him a hint of smooth, slick teeth. “Just shut up, dude.”

Michael shut up, but he wasn’t passive. His hands lifted and locked around Rob’s wrists, and his eyes clashed with Rob’s, confusion bleeding into frustration. Rob moved quickly, terrified the moment was going to slip away; terrified this spell would somehow break and it would be him and Mikey in the weight room and all weird again instead of this
…
this whatever the fuck it was that had to do with power and sweat and hard dicks straining against soft fleece workout pants.

It didn’t take much effort to catch both Michael’s hands and press them back high over his head. Rob locked his fingers over Michael’s wrists, pressing him hard into the weight bench. The new position stretched him out over Michael’s body, pressed them chest to chest, and let his dick nestle naturally along Michael’s. His breath stuttered in his chest, or maybe Michael’s did, and everything went white for a second as he felt the hot ridge of Michael’s dick against his, the dampness of their pants seeping hotly into his skin and the warm jiggle of his balls against Michael’s thigh swirling through him in a rush of static.

It all came back in a flood when Michael made the most incredible noise, not quite a sob, but more than a whimper, and arched into him like he was trying to dig through the layers of their pants and get to Rob’s dick through sheer force of will. Michael’s desperation, the frantic twisting of his body and the soft, choked-off sounds he was making filled Rob’s head, but instead of freaking him out
—
because, after all, Michael was a guy
—
Michael’s complete loss of restraint filled Rob with a soul-deep calm.

Oh, his dick was still hard enough to hit a baseball with, but all at once Rob was in complete control of himself. Michael tugged at his wrists, and Rob’s hips jerked in reaction. Okay, he was mostly in control of himself.

Just like Achilles, just like the Greeks, Rob was working with Michael.
Training
. Not having sex. Not gay. Just a little stress relief.

Michael’s legs were spread wantonly open, straddling the bench, and Rob took full advantage, bending his knees to settle deeper against the straining body beneath him. He burrowed down, wriggling until the base of his dick pressed into the giving flesh of Michael’s balls. Michael made a choked cry again, and one leg lifted, wrapping around Rob’s hip and opening Michael up even more for the press of Rob’s body.

So fucking good. Their pants, damp with sweat and pre-cum, created a soft abrasion that was blowing Rob’s mind. Michael’s, too, if the way he was jerking his hips in time with Rob’s slow grinding was any indication.

Leaning up, Rob fumbled until he was holding both Michael’s wrists in one hand, his free hand coasting down the sweat-slick length of Michael’s torso. Hot, silky skin jumped and shivered beneath his rough fingertips. He hooked his fingers under the elastic waist of Michael’s pants and tugged. They both caught their breath, then groaned when the press of their bodies together kept him from doing more than bunching the pants low on Michael’s hips.

With an almost soundless curse, Rob lifted up just enough to yank his pants down enough to bare his dick, then to drag Michael’s pants down around his thighs. The sight of Michael’s prick, thick and hard and long, with a fat head glazed and shiny with pre-cum, almost broke the spell, almost made this about sex, and not some archaic warrior’s ritual. But then Michael shifted and his erection swayed up, brushing against Rob’s, and the resulting sparks burned away reality.

He dropped down hard enough to startle a low oomph out of Michael, and rubbed his balls all over his captive’s prick. It was so silky against him, hot and hard and nothing like the time he’d rubbed off on Stacie’s thighs. It was strength against strength. It was the strain in his hand and arm from keeping Michael’s wrists pinned, keeping Michael helpless. It was the fire in those pale blue eyes, the strong male jaw and the surprisingly full, lush lips he absolutely did not want to kiss, because this wasn’t about sex, never mind that it was the most sexual, erotic thing he’d ever done.

He needed more, and needed it now, so he reached up and cupped Michael’s damp jaw in his hand. Tilting Michael’s head roughly he held up his palm. “Get it wet,” he said, well, more like he grunted it in time with the way his hips were thrusting, sliding his dick against Michael’s. Michael’s eyes went wide and, if possible, even hotter. Then the smaller guy slowly turned his head. Slowly opened his mouth, and slowly ran his tongue over Rob’s fingers and palm until they were drenched. Fuck. So fucking, fucking hot.

Rob was moving like a machine now, like a man in a trance, like something not human, just made of sheer lust. He kept up the motion of his hips, grinding their dicks together, but now he added in some hand action, too. Reaching down he caught both their dicks in his now slippery grasp and began to pull, jerking them together, fast and rough and paying lots of attention to their cock-heads, which were now putting out enough pre-cum to make everything slick and heady.

Michael’s hips were jerking, too. Breathless grunts escaped him with each hard tug. He’d dropped his head back on the weight bench, baring the line of his neck, and for an insane second Rob wanted to lick a trail from the base of his throat to his ear. That was crazy, though, and he distracted himself by pressing harder on Michael’s trapped wrists. Michael must have liked it because the pressure on his wrists combined with a particularly intense twist around the heads of their dicks dragged a raw sound from his throat and suddenly Rob’s hand on their dicks was beyond slick, was fucking sliding on cum, on Michael’s cum, and then on his own as he felt the orgasm wrench through him, practically turning him inside out.

He hovered over Michael, eyes closed, breath rattling in his throat, for what seemed like ages. He didn’t realize he’d let Michael’s wrists loose until one of those long, slender hands cupped his cheek. A soft touch to his mouth had his eyes snapping open just in time to see Michael lowering his head, a faint smile on his full lips. Michael’d kissed him?

All the panic and confusion he’d shoved down fountained back up and Rob scuttled backwards off the weight bench, practically landing on his ass on the floor.

“Rob? Are you okay?” Shit, Michael’s voice was all rough and deep; he sounded like he’d been having sex, but dammit sex wasn’t what had happened. It
wasn’t
. All his emotions must have been written on his face, because Michael sat up slowly, like he didn’t want to scare him, and spoke softly. “It’s gonna be fine, Rob. It’s a big deal, but it’s gonna be totally fine.”

“A big deal?” Rob was working hard to sound dismissive and not panicked. “There’s no big deal. Nothing happened.” He faltered a bit when he noticed the slickness on his hand, but he quickly scrubbed the spunk off on his pants and hopped to his feet.

“Look,” he continued, moving quickly toward the door, “I’m gonna wait and work out tomorrow. You just go on with your lifting.”

Michael was staring at him with wide blue eyes, clearly trying to figure out if he’d lost his fucking mind. “Uh, don’t you think we should talk about this?”

“Nothin’ to talk about, dude,” Rob stammered, backing toward the door. “Nothing at all.”

* * * *

It shouldn’t have surprised him. After all, it had been crystal clear Rob wasn’t okay with what they’d done Friday night in the weight room. Michael shivered a little at the memory. There weren’t a whole lot of openly gay guys running around Ferndale High, but even if there had been, even if he’d been touched like that by fifteen other dudes, Michael didn’t think anything would compare to the feel of Rob holding him down, the slick and rough of his hand on Michael’s prick, and the orgasm that had practically shorted out Michael’s brain.

And Rob had come just as hard, dammit. Michael knew he had. But he’d also freaked afterward, even though he wouldn’t admit it. It had been in his eyes, nearly black and almost shocky looking, and in the tense lines around his mouth.

So, knowing how freaked Rob was, it shouldn’t have surprised Michael at all to come into school Monday morning and find Rob pressing a cheerleader
—
Michael wasn’t sure which one, they were all tanned, blonde and had names like Sandy and Mindy
—
up against his locker while he used his tongue to do an inventory of her tonsils.

And maybe surprise wasn’t the right word. Maybe, though it pissed him the hell off to admit it, what he was feeling was hurt. Because he’d never even dreamed up something like what they’d done on the weight bench, and dammit all, he wanted more and he wanted it with Rob.

As if he’d heard Michael thinking his name, Rob lifted his head, lips parting from Cheerleader Barbie’s with a smacking sound as her lip gloss tried to keep them stuck together. If Rob’s eyes flickered a bit when he caught sight of Michael, well, Suction Cup Barbie fixed that by attaching her lips to the angle of his jaw, and just that easily Rob shut him out, erased what they’d done
—
what he’d done to Michael
—
with one leering smile at the pair of boobs disguised as a girl he was pressing up against the locker.

Michael took a deep breath and reminded himself there were only five months left of school. Five months until the Art Institute and, hopefully, someone who’d blow the memory of Rob Hilton out of his head forever.

Chapter Two

Present Day

“Okay those are the basics of wax play. It’s up to you to be creative, to find the ways to send your submissive flying. And never forget, like any play, it’s paramount you care for your sub after any scene.” Master Sin continued to massage oil on Kendra’s reddened flesh. “Now I’ll bring out our house submissives and those of you without partners may choose one to experiment with.”

Rob watched as several submissives entered the staging area. Male and female, the submissives wore purple silk robes over smooth, bare skin that all but begged to be worked over until it was pink and flushed. Rob made it halfway down the line when a pair of blues eyes so pale they nearly glowed caught his attention.

For a moment he was frozen to the chair as a face from his past came into view. Though he was ten years older, Michael hadn’t changed much. The face that had haunted his dreams had filled out more. The body was a little less slender, but still rippled with lean muscles under satiny looking skin. He was hot as fucking Hell.