Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

what is not important anymore. You're here in my arms." Then Sule did something Alaric couldn't have foreseen. Inserting a finger in Alaric's foreskin, Sule circled the head like a warlock from an ancient tale stirring a concoction, perhaps to destroy, perhaps to create life.
    "Blast me," was all Alaric could hiss as he rolled his eyes. A thousand commands escaped from his purpled head, ordering goose bumps and flashes of light, and Sule inserted one finger of the hand still kneading Alaric's ass into that burning hole, making him whimper.
    Squeaky clean as they were after the meticulous bath, the fluids oozing from their cocks could only taste like ambrosia. Sule proved this, licking the smeared finger and sharing the flavor with Alaric in a passionate kiss.
    Invaded and giddy— thanks to both hands commanding him— Alaric replicated Sule's maneuvers, extracting moans of approval and grunts of encouragement.
    Each mirrored the other's actions, tasting and kissing, fingering and rubbing. Water splashed with their efforts because they only gave each other space for narrow moves, bucking and grinding, until all that was left was to stroke their cocks to completion.
    Alaric exploded first, torn between the hand stroking his cock, the finger plucking his prostate and the mouth covering his mouth. He became a million pieces, his consciousness still whole— thanks to Sule's sweet gravity.
    The wicked clench around Alaric's finger— with Sule's orgasm not far behind from his— brought a new wave of ecstasy to his trembling frame. Both rode the high crest not wanting to untwine their bodies now or in the future.
    ****
    Blessed be the Universe for I've known bliss on the lips of Alaric Aquinas.
    ~ Sule Sarong's Personal Log - Standard date 5772.03.15
     
    They made love for two standard days. They learned each other's geography, from north to south, from east to west, kissing creases, licking plains, engulfing summits. They discovered and adored every inch of their inflamed bodies with abandon. The diminishing of that bonfire was never in sight.
    "It's time to leave this nest, Alaric." Sule told the object of his desire with sadness. They didn't know under what conditions they would do the interplanetary journey, ergo if they would be sharing the same living space. Many, many people would certainly surround them by the description of the column of survivors Alaric had given him.
    But even if there are a thousand survivors, it would be nothing but the meager remains of a city with more than two million inhabitants before the dust plague.
    "Are you sure your transport has enough energy to take us there?" Alaric asked, still tangled in dark sheets, making him look like one of the moons in the midnight sky.
    "More than necessary. If we depart tonight, we could arrive at the spaceport in less than forty-eight standard hours." Sule sat on the bed, offering Alaric a plate with his share of the roasted doves and Nova-Gaian potatoes he had prepared for their meal.
    Alaric ate silently, just looking at Sule, a mixture of adoration and apprehension in his pale blue eyes, cross-legged and immersed in a pool of satin darkness.
    "Speak your mind, sweetheart." Sule caressed one cheek when Alaric stopped chewing. The lad leaned into his touch.
    "What if they separate us?" Alaric scrunched his nose as if not wanting to delve too seriously into that thought.
    This fretting lad was the one who even in the middle of an ordeal kept fighting, as Sule had witnessed every time he had come to his rescue. Sule didn't want to make Alaric weak just because he was near. "Would you let that happen?"
    The response was a hissed syllable, "No."
    Sule encouragingly murmured after a sip of his water. "That's the answer I was hoping for." He took their plates and settled them on a nearby table. He crawled on the bed until they were face-to-face, his eyes boring into Alaric's. "I'm absolutely positive, if I'm the one who needs rescue at some point you'd prevail." He slid his lips over Alaric's without kissing, just relishing their texture. The tip of their noses brushed in silent invitation, an echo of things they did earlier.
    Alaric gave him a quick smooch, "Totally true. My middle name is berserk." He chuckled softly, "There's something about you that makes me want to be rescued, and I swear I didn't look for trouble just to see if you appeared. They were all honest-to-Universe mishaps." He lifted his right hand as if making an oath.
    "I believe you; I