Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

wonderful stubble scrapping every inch of his body.
    "Are you unwell?" Sule asked, just underpants covering his magnificent, lean body. "Is the lump on your head hurting?" His dark locks swayed forward as he tilted his head inquisitively.
    Alaric shook his head. Absent— like a dummy— and sure that he had the silliest star-struck look on his face. He wasn't drooling because the Universe was merciful. He swallowed audibly, "I've dreamt of you so much. I still don't know if this is just another of my naughty dreams or blissful reality."
    Sule smiled, with his mouth and his amazing steel eyes, and walked toward him. Sule took Alaric's hand and rested it on his chest over his heart, the hairy plain— hard and enticing. "Do you hear this?"
    Alaric did, hating the clothes that still covered his own body. He nodded, hearing and feeling the steady heartbeat scorching his hand, melting his body.
    The underpants close to his chest were tented; proof that Alaric wasn't alone in his ardor.
    "Let me help you out of these clothes." Sule murmured as he pulled Alaric up and held him in his arms for a moment.
    Sule's eyes were the color of flaming steel, and they devoured him. Every single cell about Alaric's body tingled in anticipation. Why was he still clothed?
    The removal of each garment was accompanied by a feathery caress on the discovered area, Alaric wanted to close his eyes and drift, but Sule's eyes held him in place, alerted, conscious. And that mouth, that mouth surrounded by amazing stubble was an equally powerful magnet. It took all the restraint his body was capable of not to be the first to venture for a taste of those lips.
    "Oh," Alaric gasped, remembering he didn't have his backpack. He was happy to be there, but losing his family portrait immediately dampened his mood.
    "Don't worry, it's over there," Sule pointed toward a corner, as Alaric leaned on him to remove his shoes. The backpack lay inconspicuously, covered by dirt, but apparently whole.
    Alaric thanked Sule in hushed tones as they moved to the next room, which was an ample bathroom. Sule took a low stool and settled it in the middle of a large bathtub. "Let me sponge you first to remove all that caked dirt."
    Sule moved about, collecting items for his chore, while the bobbing of his tempting cock— behind thin fabric— enthralled Alaric.
    Blast me. I'm going to make a fool of myself.
    "Where did all this water come from?" Alaric asked— just for the sake of asking— to distract his feverish brain.
    "It's the filtered water of a hundred rains." Sule beamed, pride coloring his tone. He pointed to an immense tank in the middle of the inner patio. "It also irrigates a little green house."
    Then Sule wasn't simply lurking around the corners waiting to rescue him. Alaric didn't know whether to feel disappointed or grateful that Sule wasn't just a harebrained stalker.
    By the time Sule finally started to sponge him with soapy water, his cock head peeked from its foreskin cocoon demanding attention, and no amount of fresh— or filtered— water could conquer the fire running over Alaric's face.
    Hey, horniness trumps embarrassment.
    The worst— or should he say the best — part was when Sule circled his ass cheeks with maddening slowness and spread them, rubbing lovingly his puckered hole, as if to make him beg to be fucked senseless without remorse. Who could have told him that a man literally wiping his ass would be the most erotic thing he had ever experienced? He was lost, light-years beyond propriety.
    None said a word. The only thing accompanying Sule's torturing and delightful ministrations was the heavy almost strangled breathing of both.
    An eternity later, all the filth of the morning's bad experience had been drained, and they were face-to-face, kneeling in the bathtub with water happily splashing about them. Alaric couldn't get enough of Sule's hairy chest rubbing against his, nor the celestial scrape of that stubble over his swollen lips.
    Sule's ass was a masterpiece, and Alaric refused to cease his kneading of the hard muscles. They were mutually obsessed with their behinds because Sule couldn't stop either. He pulled their groins together, steering Alaric's ass and making their cocks mingle their encouraging fluids.
    "I've dreamt of you so much." Sule whispered moving one hand from Alaric's ass to his groin.
    That strong hand around his shaft was Alaric's undoing. "I'm sure I did it more." He chuckled with a strangled gasp.
    "Who did