A Boy Who Came In from the Cold Ch. 18

"Ohhhh... Yeah!" Paddy grunted as his legs were forced wider by the Irishman's muscular thighs and he came to sit in his lover's clean-shaven crotch with his knees bent under him.

"Fuck me," he gasped into P J's mouth as the older man's lips met his own and he felt his lover pull him close. "Fuck me hard! Make me cum!"

Paddy rolled him onto his back on the sofa, and came to crouch over him, spreading Rayne's slim, pale thighs wider.

"Don't you worry," he crooned. "I will, baby boy!"

And then there was no breath left for words. P J mounted him and took hold of his narrow hips as he began to buck hard, pumping his young lover with fifteen and a quarter inches of hot, thick, slippery meat. Rayne lashed and screamed under him as it pulsed in and out of his body like a mechanical piston. He was on fire, burning with arousal and longing, his legs hooked around Paddy's waist as the big man screwed him deeper and faster. His gaping mouth fastened onto Rayne's as they surged and bucked together on the sweat-soaked black leather of the cushions. Paddy's tongue squirmed like a greedy serpent in his mouth and Rayne whimpered incoherently around it as the hot, trembling sensation in his loins grew and grew. It was a dark, pulsing, desperate thing, struggling to take over his body. The boy arched his back and rubbed himself submissively against his lover's powerful chest and belly, allowing the pressure to build within his balls until it was almost unbearable. Paddy was banging him faster and harder, his huge nuts slapping with a rapid, urgent rhythm on the boy's bare arse cheeks as they fucked.

He screamed again as it overwhelmed him and his scrotum jerked and tightened like he had received an electric shock to the balls. Paddy must have felt his clenching chute squeeze tight for he was suddenly still inside the boy, slumping over him as Rayne spurted over his firm, sweat-dripping abdominal muscles. The younger man clawed at his back, reaching up beneath his clinging lycra vest to scrabble at the hot, moist flesh beneath. His lover remained still and poised until the spasms around his throbbing dick slowed and Rayne let go of him, slumping back onto the cushions.

Then and only then did he pull slowly out of the youth and drag him to the polished wooden floor. Rayne made no effort to resist as he was rolled onto his belly, then hauled to his shoulders and knees. Paddy inspected the dark moon of his gaping anus and reached for the lube, squirting another good mass of water-based jelly into the quivering hole. He knelt up reverently and began to slide his hot, musky cock back into that welcoming sheath. To his delight, Rayne bucked against him, thrusting his well-fucked arsehole back onto the thick spear of his lover's invading phallus.

The act of penetration was quick and slippery. Lube pulsed out of Rayne's delicious hole as it was rapidly filled with cock for the umpteenth time that afternoon. The young man braced himself on his hands and knees, taking the long, steady thrusts of his lover's sex until Paddy McNamara was completely immersed in his anus once again. This time, however, Paddy was more controlled. He paced himself, pulsing in and out with long strokes of his humungous weapon. Sometimes he pulled almost all the way out before letting it sink back in until Rayne's hot, wet flesh was flush with his own. He took his time, enjoying the way his lover's colon clung to his sex as he pulled back then yielded smoothly and sweetly as he pushed it deeper. Every few minutes he pulled right back and applied more lubricant until his young lover was slick with gel and mucus and more than a little pre-cum.

"Uuhhhhh!" Rayne exhaled softly and hungrily as he gripped the boy's sexy arse and began to pump a little harder.

"You like that?" Paddy huffed.

"Mmmmhhhh... yeah!"

He checked his watch. They had about three minutes before the guys returned. Paddy reached underneath Rayne and stroked his stiff, leaking cock. The boy was furiously horny and ready to cum again.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard now. Your hot, saucy hole is gonna get filled with cream. You ready?" he whispered, pulling Rayne up onto his knees and looping one arm around his chest as the other hand worked the boy's jumping, spunk-wet sex. Rayne's dark head rested against his left shoulder and the boy nodded breathlessly. His full lips were slightly parted and his jewel-green eyes were closed. He looked so beautiful in that moment that Paddy almost came up his arse without moving an inch.

He began to thrust urgently and Rayne pushed back against him, writhing like a horny angel in his arms.

"Aahhhh!" the boy cried out, struggling a little as Paddy spread his legs and humped that massive tool up into him as far as it would go. He felt his balls press up into the slender youth's sweaty crack and pulled Rayne down hard on his spurting knob. His hand slid up Rayne's chest and over his throat, covering his mouth. Paddy eased cum-sticky fingers between his lover's wet lips and exploded inside the lad as he felt Rayne begin to suck on them. His other hand pumped Rayne's lovely, hard eight inch bone until it squirted its answering salvo. He nuzzled Rayne's sweat-damp neck as he rubbed the spilt semen all over his lover's naked body and came again for the clenching of his lover's rectal muscles around his spasming penis.

When Clay and Mikkal came back to the boat the pair were still on their knees, eyes closed, breathing heavily and clearly sated. The big American laughed wickedly. '

"Not fair! He'll be too loose for the rest of us now!" he quipped, stroking his stiffening cock through the snug, white lycra of his shorts.

Rayne's cheeks flushed and he pulled himself to his feet now. It was difficult. His knees were shaking and he could barely walk but it had been worth it. Paddy kissed the top of his head.

"Can we finally go now?" he asked impatiently.

"Five minutes!" Rayne told him breathlessly, pulling on his shirt and reaching for his jeans.

"What now?" The Irishman shook his head incredulously.

"I need to fetch my guitar."

"I'll buy you another when we get to the States!" his lover promised.

"Not like this one. It's special. It was my cousin's. He reckons Topper Headon from the Clash used to own it." Rayne beamed at him.

"Who the fuck is Topper Headjob?" Paddy wanted to know.

Rayne touched two fingers to his lips and stood on tip toe to kiss him there.

"Philistine!" he whispered mischievously. "I'll be five minutes. If I'm any later go without me!"

"You better not be!" Paddy warned.

"I love you too!" Rayne blew him a kiss but the big Irishman just looked bemused. Sexy and bemused. Rayne fixed that image in his head. Then he turned and ran.

His heart was racing as he stepped off the boat into the enveloping warmth of the Mediterranean night. He forced himself to keep moving, to jog back to Phil's flat before his legs failed him. He was still trembling and twitching internally from the energetic sex. On the way back he was chatted up from an overhead balcony by one of the guys who had enjoyed the peep show he and Phil put on earlier.

"Come up and have some fun with me," the man called out cheerfully. "I can give you real satisfaction!"

"I've had some, thanks!" Rayne winked at him.

He found Phil at the shop where the young man had just opened up for the night. Phil gave him the keys to the flat without question.

"You're going then?" he asked when Rayne brought them back, armed with his bags.

"Yeah... I reckon it's time," the other boy said lazily. "I've been down here long enough. Time to get on with my life, yeah?"

"I'll miss you," Phil told him, in all sincerity. "You sure you don't wanna stay with me for a bit?"

"I'll write," Rayne promised, without answering that one. He leaned over the counter and snaked his fingers around the back of Phil's neck, pulling the blond boy's lips onto his one final time.

"You'd better!" Phil said huskily when he pulled away. "Take care of yourself. Don't do yourself a mischief riding that big fat cock! Lucky bastard!"

Rayne Wilde said nothing. He just winked again and hoisted his bags onto his slender shoulders, then walked out into the night, his heart still racing uncontrollably.

ANT

Ant fled from the marina in a state of confusion, emotionally wrung out by his confrontation with Leland. He had woken to find the old man gloating that his precious 'boy' had run out on him, finally. Although Daniel managed to refrain from using the words 'I Told You So' he clearly implied this much. They had argued, for the first time since his teens when Daniel had first taken him under one reprobate wing. Ant was furious with himself. He had not managed to get into such a state in many years and was privately fuming at his own lack of control. Surely no one should be able to make him feel so wretched and desperate? He was a grown man and beyond such foolish impulses but right now, as he stalked off Daniel's boat and out of the marina, blinded by his own tears, he felt as if nothing else in his life mattered. Rayne had turned his head around so many times since that fateful day when he went back to pull the miserable child out of the snow that he had no idea which way he was facing. They had 'both' grown here, he conceded unhappily, and they had 'both' changed. That much was certainly true. Ant knew that he was not the same man he had been back in London. His experiences in Agde had made him more defensive; more cynical too.

Rayne Wilde had blossomed in Agde, but not in any way that Ant had hoped for when he brought the kid here. The boy would never be happy in a submissive role. Ant's private dreams, that he would learn to love being cared for in return for security and the pleasures of lovemaking, were fading now. He had watched in dismay as his young mate replaced that brittle, defensive shell of his with bright armour, built for battle, not hiding behind. With every day that passed, Rayne took more control. Ant was not sure if that was a good thing or a bad one right now.

All he knew for sure was that he could not watch PJ's boat sail out of harbour. Not when he knew that the boy was on board.

"Dan was right! He's made a bloody fool of you!" he muttered bitterly to himself, striding grimly past throngs of happy, colourful, energetic holidaymakers already setting out for another mindless evening of hedonism in the numerous bars and restaurants of the Cap.

His route ultimately took him the quieter way, across the car park between the creek and the low-lying villas of Port Nature. It felt cooler here and he slowed his pace, less conscious of curious eyes on his back. His feet carried him to the mole at the mouth of the creek and he scrambled up the stone built barricade and stood, panting and angry still, at the top end of the vast expanse of beach with only a last desperate handful of determined nature lovers and a couple of dog walkers to avoid. The creeping twilight had almost emptied the long, golden strand and only the twinkling lights on the buoys and the slow sweep of the lighthouse broke the blue-grey velvet of the horizon. He caught his breath and stood for a moment, listening to the hissing of the waves as they rolled over the shore then lolled back down into the depths of the sea. The sound calmed him somehow. It whispered in his blood and his bones, towing him at last, down to the water's edge.

There was no sign of Paddy's yacht. He wondered if they had already gone but decided against it almost immediately. He would have heard the engine as they motored down the creek and there was no hint of their lights out at sea. In the far distance, the lighthouse on the dark hump of headland at Sete stretched out a finger of luminescence and the squat turret on the end of the mole replied with a gesture of its own.

Turning his back on the mole he walked slowly down the beach, away from the muted chatter and the separate pulses of music coming out of the bars along the boardwalk at Nature. He wrapped his arms around his bare chest, feeling a chill that did not come from the summer evening air. His time here had seen him strip fitter than he had been back in London. The sex and the sunshine had been twin balms to his body and soul. His tan was looking good and the muscles of his arms and legs and his belly felt tighter and firmer. The sun had picked out the highlights in his dark blond hair too. It would need a trim when he got back to England but for the casual lifestyle out here on the Med it was fine. Ant figured that he might well have lost a few pounds in weight as well.

Look on the bright side!

London would seem grey and cold after the golden days out here though. He trudged onward through the damp sand along the shoreline. Ant was comfortably naked, save for his sandals and the leather wallet flapping at his hip on its long shoulder strap. Shells crunched softly underfoot and the waves whispered their lullaby to him. He heard the low grumble of a marine engine somewhere behind him and forced his eyes forward. He would not look.

He wondered if Rayne was sitting up on the deck, watching all of this slipping away into the darkness, thinking of his new life in America. Would the boy see him from there? It was beginning to get dark after all. Ant shook his head bitterly as the cruiser accelerated, clearing the harbour, pushing out into deeper water. No doubt the little bitch was already below, sprawled on McNamara's bed like the slut he was; howling with pleasure as the Irish bastard ploughed his hole with that obscene shaft!

Ant spotted a dark shape up ahead, nestling in the curve of the sea-washed sand, huddled up and surrounded by smaller objects. A late night fisherman, he thought at once, and he swung to his left to avoid tangling with the fellow's lines. Some of them stayed out here until the small hours, obsessed with the watching and waiting for that elusive pull on their lines. To his right the yacht picked up speed now, bobbing out across the waves like a skimmed stone. He wished with all of his heart that it would sink like a stone as well, but finally his eyes were drawn to it and he could not longer fight the urge to look as it sped away.

Ant felt his vision blur as he watched the lights grow smaller and fainter and the roar of engines gradually faded away until they were swallowed by the hushing of the sea. His gaze was pulled after it in spite of all his resolve. He was feeling sick and angry with himself and with Rayne and with the whole world, when a small, quiet, heartbreakingly familiar voice just behind him said; "That's it then, innit?"

He turned so quickly that he almost fell over. The sandal was snatched from his left foot by the shifting sand and he stumbled to his knees. Rayne was watching him, curled up beyond the water's edge with his bags around him like a makeshift fortification. His arms were wrapped around his knees and his chin rested in the crook of his folded arms. Dressed in black, he was almost invisible in the encroaching darkness, but an odd little quirk of his lips showed up on that paler face, an expression that was almost, but not quite a smile. His eyes were glittering, even in the deepening twilight and he rubbed at his nose now with the back of one hand, then sniffed a couple of times and looked away. His huge, sad eyes watched the boat vanish into the arms of the night.

Now Ant scrambled towards him and sat down heavily beside him. His heart was pounding double time, hammering at the insides of his ribs as if it was trying to escape.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, hardly daring to hope. 'Had they argued?' 'Had Rayne changed his mind?' He wanted to know and yet he did not. Could he stand one more night of trying to figure out what the boy was after, let alone longer?

"What are 'you' doin' 'ere?" Rayne flashed back immediately. "Not exactly the time of day for sunbathin' is it?"

"I... I thought you'd gone," Ant protested, swallowing the lump in his throat. He drew up his knees in a parody of Rayne's pose to hide what would certainly have been a lump in his pants, had he been wearing any. The reaction was unavoidable whenever he was around Rayne.

"I have," the boy said, returning his gaze to the empty sea.

Ant turned his head, observing that quiet, wistful stare.

"Not very far," he ventured warily.

"Far enough." Rayne burrowed his chin back down into his folded arms as if he could hide himself like a tortoise pulling into its shell.

"I thought you were going to America," Ant clarified for him.

Those huge, pale, glistening eyes travelled back to his face at once. For a little while there was only the sighing sound of the sea beyond their feet to break the spell of stillness cast upon them. Rayne lifted his hands and pushed them through his hair, clutching at his head as if it hurt.

"Goes to show," he said in a muffled voice, at last. "You 'don't' know everything!"

"What's the bloody matter with you?" Ant caught him before he could pull away again. He snaked a hand through the soft, cool black hair at the nape of his lover's slender neck, pulling himself closer. "Are you 'really' that crazy?"

Rayne looked up, staring back at him with a stoned, sexy insolence that took his breath away. He did not struggle or try to argue.

"Why the fuck would I wanna go to America?" he asked instead. "I don't need his fuckin' money!"

He had to ask it.

"What about his cock?"

"What about it?" Rayne narrowed his eyes in a silent challenge. "You've 'ad one, you've 'ad 'em all, yeah?"

Ant leaned towards him, fingers curling tight in his dark hair, cupping his face with the other hand. He pulled Rayne's mouth onto his, kissing him hungrily. It had been too long since he enjoyed the simple touch of the boy's soft, full lips against his own. He felt Rayne resist the attempt for a second or two then his tongue forged on between the younger man's teeth and Rayne sucked on it for a few moments, allowing Ant to press him back down urgently into the sand. Ant climbed onto him at once, rubbing against him passionately as they kissed.

"Don't get cum on my jeans!" Rayne protested at last, pushing him off more forcefully.

"Take them off then!" Ant knelt up over him, panting eagerly. "Take 'everything' off!"

"I've got a better idea," Rayne whispered, wriggling out from between his legs then leaning forward. His long, pale fingers curled boldly around Ant's stiff, leaking nine-inch cock, towing the other man to his side. Rolling smoothly onto his side he parted his lips and pulled the head of Ant's aching boner between them. His little pink tongue glided seductively all over it, drenching it in his saliva. The cool sea breeze tickled lightly on his hot, stretched, wet glans and made him wriggle with pleasure, then the boy was bending over his crotch as he flopped back down into the sand again. Ant watched excitedly as his lover opened wider, nodding his head and working those sexy lips further and further down his shaft. He felt the huff of hot breath in his hairless crotch as Rayne's throat yielded to the thick, throbbing helm of his cock. His head moved up and down steadily and with each upstroke his lips came together, caressing the quivering bolt of muscle in his mouth. As his lips reached the fleshy, purple head, his jaws parted and his tongue lashed Ant's sex vigorously, up and down and side to side. Then he opened wide again, nodding back down, swallowing a little more cock.

Ant lay back on the rippled sand, stretching out beneath him in absolute supplication. His body was Rayne's, to do with as he would! As the beautiful boy touched down on his dick, kissing the base of his shaft, he cried out with pleasure. Rayne did not even gag when Ant's fat cock head bucked repeatedly in and out of his tight pharynx. He nuzzled the older man's belly and his lips worked around the base of the long, hot prick in his mouth. Ant felt a trickle of spit and precum pool in his crotch, then Rayne's lips were working back up his erect rod towards the oozing head. That clever tongue knowingly worked his slit and Ant's hands flew to cup Rayne's head, knotting in his silken hair and tugging on it as he bucked upward into his lover's mouth.