Buck lies back against the sheets, the material cool against his overheated skin. He is stretched out and sweating and aching a bit... and he loves every second of it. Pleasure sparks through his veins and sheets over his skin and it is made more potent by the evening that has led him here. Unexpected and wonderful and all the more so because it has come as a surprise.
It feels a little strange, though: usually he is the one doing the chasing, the one planning the seduction. Not tonight, though. Tonight, the tables have been turned and he has found himself charmed and coaxed and led to bed with skill that he is sure he'll admire in the morning, once he's able to think coherently again.
Arching up into the light teasing touch skating over his skin, Buck runs his owns hands over slick flesh, reveling in learning the feel of this new lover and he remembers...
...being invited to dinner and accepting. He is surprised by how nice the restaurant is until he remembers who he is with. He really shouldn't have expected anything but the best. The food is good and the conversation even better: sly and entertaining and he is laughing and interested the entire night. Green eyes catch his and he can see that his host is appreciating his company as well. He can't remember the last time he had this much fun, with friends or on a date, and he is so grateful that he really doesn't put up much of a fight over the check...
...walking out of the restaurant and ambling around downtown, so caught up in conversation that he doesn't notice where they're going until they end up in front of a movie theater that is showing one of Buck's favorite old classics. It takes only a little begging and they are inside, leaning in close to each other to talk quietly during lulls in the movie's action. Their arms bump awkwardly at first, but soon Buck is enjoying the feeling of warmth pressed close against him, hearing that voice soft in his ear...
...enjoying the movie, but he misses talking freely with the man next to him. He marvels at the coincidence of stumbling across this theater in time for the show... and realizes with his friend, there are no coincidences. Dinner and the walk, they had both been leading up to this moment. He turns to stare and his gaze is met and captured by questioning green eyes. Those eyes turn shy for a moment and Buck can't resist...
...reaching out and taking the other man's hand in his. In this moment, the action on the screen doesn't matter at all because he can't stand seeing fear or uncertainty in those eyes. "It's all right," he says, quietly. "It is." To prove it, he raises that hand to his lips and brushes a kiss over the knuckles, the lightest touch of lips to warm skin. "See?" The other man does see - Buck receives a sucking kiss in the center of his own palm as a reply, one that makes him glad that he's already sitting down because his knees are going weak and he doesn't want to be laughed at for shaking like a love struck teenager...
...returning to Buck's house after the movie is over. There's a new sense of awareness between them and he likes it, just as he likes the trim lines of his friend's body and the heat in his eyes. He's noticed them before, of course, but never with this hunger or intent building within him. They relax on the couch and have a drink, talking about the movie and everything and nothing and then they are in each other's arms and there was no more talking - or at least, much less talking. Considering who he is with, 'no more talking' is a highly unlikely possibility...
Memories slip away as the current moment demands all his concentration. Hot teasing hands and clever fingers skim down his stomach and then down his thighs. The other man moves down with his hands, removing himself from Buck's reach.
"Get back up here," Buck says. "I want to touch you." He needs more of that skin beneath his hands, needs to feel his new lover against him.
Besides, those hands are driving him out of his mind. "The way you make me feel..."
Firm lips press a kiss into the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. "You pour out such sweet upbraiding, as must needs tempt to repeat the wrong." The voice was hot, the breath hotter, and the tongue that rasped over his skin hottest of all.
His hands feel like they're moving of their own volition when they sink into the other man's hair. He knows that he shouldn't do that - he doesn't like having his head jerked around, but the sensations coursing through him are so intoxicating that he can't seem to help himself. "Please..." Now he is begging?
A clever tongue flickers over the tip of his erection.
"Please!" Oh yeah. He is definitely begging.
Strong fingers pry his loose and press his hands to the mattress on either side of his hips. Those hands remain on top of his, pinning them in place. Lips shape words against his erection, firm and slick with saliva and Buck's own leaking fluids. "Your strings boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes over delicious surges sink and rise, such a soft floating witchery of sound... delicious." Wet suction surrounds the head of his cock and then sinks down with aching slowness.
Buck can't hide his groans any longer and he doesn't try. The feelings and those words and that voice and that *mouth*... it's too much to resist and he gives himself over to it. He manages not to thrust upwards but his hips are twitching and the need to move fills his body with tension.
Buck can feel himself being pushed too far by the wicked mouth tormenting him, but before he tumbles over the precipice his erection is released. Before his lover can implement some new plan of pleasurable torture, Buck lunges forward and grabs his shoulders, hauling him upwards until the other man's body blankets him. He takes the other's face in his hands and kisses him deeply, holding him close so his tongue can map and explore every slick inch of his mouth, playing over sharp teeth and agile tongue and the ticklish roof of his mouth.
He can't get enough of that mouth and he returns to it again and again. His lover indulges him, teasing him with the tongue that Buck knows he'll be dreaming about for weeks. Months. Years.
He cries out when long fingers wrap around their cocks, slicking them both down with the fluid leaking steadily from them both. Sure strong strokes drive him out of his mind and his cries of pleasure are swallowed by his lover and echoed back to him when he skates his hands down the other's back and squeezes his ass. It doesn't take long for him to come and feel his lover shuddering over him, against him, his pleasure somehow magnifying Buck's.
Silence reigns in the afterglow, neither of them inclined to speak. Buck finds his voice first, chuckling a little. "Where's your poetry now?" he asks, pushing sweaty locks back off the smooth forehead above him.
He receives a sharp bite to his chin as reproof. His lover drops his head and speaks directly into his ear, voice husky and rough with spent pleasure. "I tranquil muse upon tranquility: full many a thought uncalled and undetained, and many idle flitting phantasies, traverse my indolent and passive brain." A tongue follows his words, creeping into his ear for a moment, hot and slick.
Shivering from reaction, Buck pulls the other man closer, cradling him close and refusing to let him move away at all. He loves the weight of him, the scent of him, the way their bodies slowly cool against each other. He could lose himself in this moment and be happy for an eternity.
"Thank you." Soft words whispering in his ear.
"No, thank you." Buck brushes a kiss over his temple. "How did you know?"
"I didn't. I hoped and feared and couldn't resist any longer." He scrapes his teeth over the curve of Buck's neck. "So thank *you*."
Deciding to leave that argument for another day, Buck settles for holding him closer. "You'll stay?"
"If you'll have me."
"As long as I can," Buck promises. He means it. He hadn't expected this, but now that he's found it, he doesn't ever want to let it, or this man, go.
In an attempt to stop my brain from turning to cheese, I've been reading poetry before I go to bed. The other night, I came across Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "The Eolian Harp". The words made me think of Ezra somehow. I really can't even explain it myself in any really coherent way, but it connected in my head. This ficlet came out of that. I've never tried writing Buck and Ezra (even though he's unnamed) together. I'm trying to see if I can. So, er, thanks for letting me experiment on you.
If you're interested in the poem, it can be found at: http://www.2020site.org/poetry/harp.html
If you enjoyed this story, we're sure that Kay would love to hear from you.
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