The Floating World Pt. 04

Adam's finger pushed against his ass and Jesse opened, welcomed him. His tight muscles gripped Adam's fingertip, pulling him deep inside.

Jesse let out a breath that was a moan, almost a sob of need, his chest aching and full, that small pain of his nails against his own skin unnoticed, but felt.

Adam's finger moved inside him, while his mouth stayed over Jesse's cock, and his fingertip brushed a spot inside Jesse that made him arch his back, pushing back against Adam's finger, pushing it harder inside himself.

Adam began a slow, torturously slow, fuck of Jesse's channel, teasing against that place, earning sobs and whimpers, not just of pleasure, but urgency.

Fuck me fuck me please fuck me.

Jesse wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back, fearing Adam wouldn't enter him. Wouldn't push all of himself into Jesse's body and own him; would deny him that.

Never fuck a straight guy, all they want is to suck cock.

With a rush, everything inside Jesse tightened, and no matter what he did, he couldn't hold himself back.

He did cry then, a single sob that clenched his whole body, his hole spasming around Adam's finger, trying to draw more of him inside, while his cock and balls and entire fucking soul flooded Adam's mouth.

I'm not fucking crying, Jesse thought, as another sob lurched inside him and his cock exploded twice, again. Once more, but so little left, and Adam's tongue slid across him lightly, Jesse's hole clenched around his finger, his fingers gripping Adam's hand tightly, clinging on for his life.

Adam stayed where he was, his finger inside Jesse, until Jesse's body let him go. Only then did he slide out.

"Are you okay there?" Adam's concern destroyed him.

Jesse threw an arm across his face. He had no words, or the words he had were all burnt to charcoal and dust in an aching cavity inside his chest.

Adam climbed onto the bed and Jesse moved his arm, giving him a look of terror. Not fear of being hurt. At least, not physically.

Adam didn't try to touch him, but lay on his side, his long, thick cock ready and waiting, waiting to see what that look meant.

Shaking, without knowing why he was shaking, after all, you wanted to fuck, didn't you? This is what you want. You know what to do. You know how to bring him inside you, Jesse just stared at Adam, his eyes wide, his black pupils eclipsing any hint of his irises.

He wanted to, but didn't move to touch Adam. He couldn't.

There was something about this man, something about his self-possession that made Jesse feel small, so inexperienced and as clumsy as some horny teenager—even though he didn't think Adam was gay. He shouldn't have this much presence, no man should. Jesse could feel it, a solid force. An energy that terrified Jesse because he knew, he knew if he let it, it might stop him breathing. He might become emptiness and finish burning away, leaving nothing but ash and dust.

I need drugs for this.

But Jesse had no drugs. No poppers, not even alcohol to take his mind away. No drugs, not even music to help him stay separate from this terrible, overpowering force in front of him.

He knew all this must be written on his face. Even Nate's long-gone spirit had fled, leaving him raw and open. He was lost, breathing as if he might cry, a weeping howl.

And still hungry.

"What is it?" Adam asked softy, and his voice wasn't unkind. As if he'd seen this before—as if his lovers reacted this way to being sucked off by him every day.

Jesse had never felt this before, but this man in front of him, with those intense blue eyes that shifted like the ocean in a storm, somehow this man had seen this before.

Jesse swallowed hard, found his mouth dry.

"I need some... things," he said.

Adam gave him a half-amused, quizzical look.

"Water. Music." What are you, listing your fucking rider? "I want to suck you in the shower."

Adam's amusement seemed to grow.

"And I want..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Adam, his voice like dark velvet. "The water I can do. The music, maybe. The rest... well, that's up to me, isn't it?"

Jesse stared at him with the expression of a man with a death wish facing a deadly snake.

* * *

"Stay there, I'll get you that water."

Adam reached over to Jesse, and brushed a long fall of hair from his cheek, like a mother might her favourite son.

"You're shivering. Here, cover yourself with this." He stood and reached for the back of the door where a dressing gown hung. He threw it at Jesse who instinctively wrapped himself in it, wrapping himself in the scent of the man. The man whose mouth he had just come in, spilling seed down his throat.

Adam walked from the room, not looking back, but looking down at his thick prick still rigid in front of him. He smiled to himself, enjoying the sensation of the bounce of his cock. He went through to the kitchen and found a long glass, filled it with cold water from a bottle in the fridge, found also a cloth. While he waited for hot water to run, Adam swilled Jesse's taste from his mouth, and remembered girls from his youth who gave him nutmeg or apricot juice, or pineapple juice, depending on their taste.

Jesse then, perhaps a scatter of nutmeg on the sweet cake he had ordered in Ruth's cafe, eaten with a milky coffee served up by one of Adam's girls. Alchemy.

Adam pondered the dynamic of the last fifteen minutes. Jesse coming, it had been like some switch had clicked in his head, some fucking circuit breaker more like, and then that massive surge. And that huge gulping sob, that cry! Fuck, no wonder the kid wanted water. Adam sensed some huge emptiness, some torn apart thing in Jesse. Water wouldn't fill it, but Adam thought Jesse might grasp for it like a drowning man.

Moving across to the stereo, Adam glanced into the bedroom to see Jesse propped back against the pillows, wrapped up in, lost in, Adam's dressing gown. His eyes were lifted, focused on something at the end of the bed, his fingers slowly twisting at the leather band on his wrist. Jesse looked down, saw what he was doing, and stopped. Realising he was being watched, Jesse's eyes slid across and caught Adam's, before returning his gaze to the wall.

Adam stopped in front of the stereo, clicked on its switches. He reached up for a CD case, slipped the disc into the player. As he walked back towards Jesse the music started playing.

I remember being richer than a king The minutes of the day were golden... Reaching the side of the bed, Adam passed the glass to Jesse, who, as he thought he would, gulped down half the glass before handing it towards Adam. But he looked around, and placed the glass on the table by his side of the bed.

"You OK?" repeated Adam. "You disappeared there for a moment."

Adam said it as a statement of fact, an observation, a curiosity even.

"Here." He offered Jesse the hot cloth, and Jesse wiped it quickly over his cheeks and forehead, before handing it back silently. As he did so, the sleeve of the dressing gown fell away from his forearm, and Adam saw the small lines of blood where Jesse had dug his nails into his own flesh.

Kid, fuck. No, you don't need to do that. "Aren't you meant to scratch the skin on the other guy's back?" Adam kept his voice even but watched closely to gauge Jesse's reaction. He gently but precisely wrapped the hot cloth over the scratches, holding the heat against the skin, soothing it.

"How can you do that?" Jesse's voice was quiet, just the trace of a quiver in it.

"Do what?" asked Adam.

"Be so kind. How can you be so kind? You don't even know me."

"Christ, Jesse Clifton, you've just come in my mouth, and you're wondering why I'm kind? Worrying that I don't know you?" Adam laughed, no malice, no glee. "Mate, do you just do sex, or can you manage emotion too?"

Adam saw a flicker across Jesse's face, but it was momentary, quickly clamped shut. "Ah fuck. You're kidding? Just sex?"

Adam considered the young man on his bed, casting his mind back to that cry of anguish as he came, as if his jet of cum was some scalding thing searing pain up through his core. Sweet Christ, sex wasn't meant to be that, sex was at least meant to be pleasurable, for a moment.

Adam took the cloth from Jesse's hand and dropped it on the bedside table. He climbed onto the bed, lifting the dressing gown from the boy's body and sliding his own bigger body behind Jesse's. Adam slid one arm under Jesse's neck, and with his other hand Adam pulled him back against his chest. He pushed his groin against Jesse's ass and slid his cock, still hot and thick but not so hard, between Jesse's thighs. The younger man's balls and shaft were loose and soft after his orgasm, and their two cocks rested against each other.

Jesse was limp in his arms like some broken puppet, a shimmer of goose bumps on his arms. Adam pulled his gown over them both, and just pulled Jesse's body back against his own, and held him. Jesse didn't comply, he didn't resist.

Adam began to talk, in a low voice, and told Jesse about Amanda at the same crossing where Jesse had caught up with him, how she had tilted her hip and appraised him.

"What kind of a man are you, Adam?"

Adam told Jesse about the fifteen year old blonde angel he had know when he was just seventeen, and how they ran in the rain. He told him how, when he was forty, another blonde, this one tall and statuesque with a mane of golden hair to her waist, brushed imaginary lint from the lapel of his suit, kissed him on the cheek, and wished him good luck for an important interview. She was only twenty-two and wrote poetry, sending it to him by email. She imagined her golden hair spread over Adam's belly, and a spray of white over her hand.

And at some point, Jesse Clifton reached for Adam's hand and laced his fingers through the older man's fingers, and they stayed entwined.

Adam told Jesse about his two children, how they started so impossibly perfect and small and how could they really be believable, if one didn't believe in heaven? They grew older, and were still miracles.

And at some point Jesse Clifton pushed the hot core of his body down against the heat of Adam's shaft, and felt his own pulse deep in his body, and his balls tightened and started to swell. His own cock was hotter, and Jesse took Adam's hand in his, and placed it over the centre of his gut.

"Who's the singer?" Jesse asked. "He sounds familiar, but I can't place him. Must be eighties, though."

"Townshend," Adam replied, "one of his solo albums, when he couldn't handle The Who without Moonie."

And at some point their bodies grew hotter, and Adam pushed the gown down to their waists, and Jesse twisted his body towards Adam's, calling for his mouth for a kiss. Answering the call, Adam held the younger man's body to his own and kissed Jesse's throat, his lips, his mouth. Taking him and wanting him, Adam's cock thickened and heated, and Jesse clamped his thighs around it, gripping it, and Jesse's own cock thickened and straightened. Jesse curved his hand around both cocks, and they were hot in his palm.

Adam told Jesse how, in this same bed, Gabriela had taken every single ring and jewel from her fingers, every chain from around her neck, every golden loop from the lobes of her ears, the velvet choker from her neck, and how she took him on her terms, naked in his arms.

"Naked. That's the point, isn't it? With you, the nakedness is the thing." Jesse took Adam's face in his hands and gazed into those still, blue eyes. "This is your story, isn't it? Your life. How you love whoever it is, in the moment you're with them. Christ, no wonder people drown."

And at that point Jesse Clifton reached for his own wrists, and pulled away the leather bands. Somehow, he was on his back with his legs spread wide, his cock rigid up against his gut, his balls tight up against his body. Jesse took his hair in a twist and pulled it back away from his face.

Sweet god, he's beautiful, thought Adam, as he held himself over Jesse's body. He reached for the drawer of the bedside table, found a bottle of lube. Jesse's eyes were fixed on Adam's, and his lips were slightly open. He licked his lips, and Adam's heart thumped at the wet expectation. Their desire for each other was palpable. Jesse reached up to Adam's cheek as the older man swathed lube onto his shaft, and the cold shock clenched his asshole.

Adam pressed the tip of his cock to the centre of Jesse's tight star, and he eased his weight forward, setting up a hot pressure on Jesse's core, and pressed in. Jesse's ass tightened with the first push, but then Jesse began to bear down onto Adam's shaft, judging the speed of his own fill, relaxing himself to take Adam's length.

Adam arched his back over Jesse's centre, the heated head of his cock slowly disappearing into Jesse's body, slow inch, slow inch at a time. Ah, so tight, the hot core of Jesse's body moving up against Adam's long shaft, slow inch. And then Jesse bucked up hard to Adam, and his cock softened as Adam's cock deepened into him, pressing past his throbbing heart of pleasure. And with a final push, Adam deep in, Jesse opening wide, Adam sunk to the depths of Jesse's heat, and was held there.

"Ahh, fuck, tight." Adam felt his heat sucked deep, and the grip of Jesse's ass was so tight he could feel his heartbeat there, pounding with each squeeze. He'd never be lost here, not with this hold on him. And then Jesse let go, and started to move under him. As Jesse moved, the grip on his cock loosened, and Adam started up a slow fuck, deep slides in and a long pull out, and they moved against each other with a quickening rhythm.

Jesse moaned deep from his throat, and his thighs began to twitch. A slow flow of fluid began to leak from Jesse's cock, and he started to come, long wet surges flowing from him, and then he wanted it harder.

* * *

As Jesse pushed against Adam's heat, the CD in the lounge stopped abruptly and whirred, clicked, whirred again. In that moment of silence Jesse's body, previously relaxed and open, tensed, waiting. Afraid of what might play next.

Guitar notes, soft, nothing else, floated out of the lounge. Jesse knew the song. There must have been other CDs in the carousel.

Jeff Buckley's wistful voice floated over the top of those guitar notes.

I heard there was a sacred chord that David played and it pleased the Lord...

The tension fell away and Jesse felt his pleasure building in a way that, before today, he'd only felt with one other man. Not his first gay lover, Will. Another lover, Byron—older than Jesse—who'd coveted Jesse's then much younger body, and knew how to seduce it. And Jesse hadn't minded, had let the man bend his body and quiet his mind, taken his heat deep inside him and succumbed to his charm. And after things had ended with Will, and the Byron had tired of him, he'd found himself with no one.

There was no goodbye, just silence, And then one day, Byron standing against the wall in a club, a boy younger than Jesse, wide-eyed and long-haired, caught between his body and the wall, Byron leaning over him, his elbow and forearm braced above the boy's head.

Jesse had learned that day that you could never be too young or too beautiful, that there would always be someone younger to take your place.

And now, with Adam stroking deep into the well of his memory, into the place of his deepest fear, his deepest pain and his greatest pleasure, Jesse pushed back against him.

He reached for Adam's hands and Adam interlaced his fingers with Jesse's. Jesse placed the older man's hands on his thighs, and Adam understood, pushing them back and wider, lifting Jesse's spine from the bed, so that he could drive deeper.

Jesse sighed into it, his head thrown back, his mouth open, his breath one ragged exhalation after another, drawn in time with Adam moving inside him.

The pleasure built inside him, and he knew he would come with Adam, knew it instinctively as he felt Adam harden inside him to an impossible size, and impossible hardness and Hallelujah Adam let out a sound like an 'Oh', an exhaled breath deep from his chest, and clamped his hands against Jesse's thighs, his cock pulsing inside Jesse's darkest heart. Jesse put a hand to his own stiff cock and stroked once, and was rewarded with jets of cum as he arched his back, sucking the last of Adam's hardness as far into himself as he could.

Hot ropes of cum spurted across Jesse's belly, across his chest, stroking across one nipple, leaving a warm trail there.

"Christ," said Adam, as Jesse shuddered once under him. Adam stayed where he was, but his fingers softened against Jesse's thighs, releasing them from his death grip. As he relaxed, Jesse let himself go soft and Adam slid out of him.

Jesse tilted his head to one side and held his arms out to Adam, a gesture of wanting as timeless as any. Adam came back onto the bed, and Jesse shifted to face him, his arms still held out, his eyes dark and liquid.

Adam shifted onto his side so the boy could hug him, and Jesse pressed his body to Adam's, his cum slick against their skin, binding them together.

The track on the CD player changed, more floating guitar notes, but this time with words half spoken, half sung over the top.

Love, let me sleep tonight on your couch and remember the smell of the fabric of your simple city dress. Oh that was so real. Jesse buried his head against Adam's chest, and the older man rested his chin against the boy's head, that scent of lemon in his nostrils, and something else. Adam's own scent, from Jesse wrapped in his dressing gown where some cologne must still have clung, the familiar scent that was Adam's own.

The music reached some moment of crisis and Jesse pressed harder against Adam, his arms around the older man. Adam realised he was trying to roll him over. He let the kid move him and Jesse pushed him flat to the bed as the music paused—

I love you. —and started again.

Jesse sat astride him, his spent cock and balls sitting loose against Adam's midsection, and everything about him was firm but soft as he relaxed there, from his pale buttocks and thighs, to his fingers splayed against Adam's chest. Jesse's hair fell around his face, his eyes huge and dark in the greater darkness of the bedroom.

He said nothing, but Adam sensed whatever agony had been in him before had passed, and that now, something else had woken.

Jesse stroked slender fingers across Adam's body, tracing the trail of iron-grey hair across his chest, down across the older man's ribs, drawing them back towards his own body.

"Can I stay the night?" He gave Adam a shy smile.

Adam nodded. "Yeah. I don't have to be anywhere tomorrow."

Jesse took a breath in. Wanted to say something. He glanced towards the side table where his leather bracelets sat and the breath caught in his chest as he remembered how naked he was right now.

Adam put his hands to the younger man's waist.

"Take your time."

For a moment Jesse was confused, then remembered he'd been about to ask something. And then for something.

Adam's fingers were warm against him, his eyes watching Jesse's face with a warmth and concern that made Jesse's breath hitch in his chest again.

The languid music from the lounge; didn't we? did we? should we? could we? "Have you done this before?" Jesse asked in a rush. It was only the first of two questions, but he had to know the answer to this one first.

He waited, breathing high in his chest, almost hyperventilating as he waited, Adam's fingers warm against his skin, his body warm under him, Jesse covered in his scent, and under the steady gaze of those blue eyes, glitters of light in the near darkness.

"Because," Jesse paused, his throat dry, not sure he wanted to say this after all. "If it's always like this, then I'll go."