Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

need both hands to pop the stiff buttons so I slide to the floor, parting his legs and kneeling at his feet, eyeing him hungrily as the swollen material finally bends to my will and opens.
    He leans back, reclining on his elbows and lifting his hips to allow me to rip the saturated second skin from him. I throw the jeans behind me and run my hands up his legs, fingers raking through the fine hairs that dust his shins and thighs, rubbing heat back into his cold, clammy flesh. I reach higher, finding the tight waistband of his damp briefs, beautifully moulded to the contours of his body, and slowly ease them down, unpeeling him.
    His cock stirs sluggishly, his balls retracted almost back into his pelvis. How long had he been sitting in the pouring rain waiting for me? I know Paulie's a grower but even soft he can do better than this. I decide to warm him the best way I know how, leaning my whole body forward, locking my eyes on his so I can watch every second of his reaction as he reads my intent. I'm not disappointed.
    The groan that escapes from his tight lips is almost pained as I slip his half-hard dick into my mouth and suck gently, exerting soft pressure along the whole length. He fights to keep his eyes open and trained on me as I slowly slide up and off, then back down again. His cock reacts instantly, hardening and thickening, stretching my lips and filling my throat, giving me more on every down stroke. I glide my hand between his legs to caress his balls, gently massaging them in their pouch, cupping them in my palm. They don't descend much, but it's no longer cold keeping them pressed high and tight to his body. He's shaking, but I don't think that's down to the cold anymore, either.
    He's panting hard now, the muscles in his belly contracting rhythmically, a small preview of how his body will respond to mine when I take him. The image of him undulating below me, trembling with desire, stripped back to his barest essences as he comes undone in my arms, makes my heart stutter and my chest palpitate like I've run a marathon and I have to stop and breathe hard to get myself back under control. I'm as excited and nervous as a virgin, but maybe that's not so far from the truth: I've never made love to anyone before. We've barely started yet I know that what we're about to do is nothing like anything I've ever done in the past. This is different, it's him , and it means something. It means everything.
    I climb up between his legs, pushing him back onto the bed, out of the damp patch left by his jeans, until his head touches the pillows and he wraps his arms around me as I settle on top of him. We kiss again, and it's almost so good that I don't want to do anything else, I just want to lie here in his arms and kiss him and kiss him until the world ends. They can bury me here, put a plaque on the door to commemorate the miracle that happened in this unassuming little room, and pilgrims will travel to light candles and sing songs about us. Maybe I'm the pilgrim: I was the one looking for a miracle and right here, in my own bedroom, I finally found it.
    My miracle opens his eyes and smiles up at me, hope and longing and naked, shameless love. I smile back, keeping our faces close because I can't bear to be any further away from him than I am right now. I don't want to ever let him out of my sight again as long as I live. His hands slide along my flanks, his fingers drifting over the soft skin of my hips and I quiver, ticklish. His eyes light up at the discovery and he toys with me, teasing, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. I bury my face in the crook of his neck as he continues to torment me until I beg him to stop. He smoothes his palms over the sensitive skin, soothing the residual tingle and I fall in love with him all over again.
    His hands slither into the back of my waistband and push my shorts down, both of us wriggling awkwardly to remove the offending material without getting up. They bunch somewhere around my mid-thighs and I settle back against him, aligning our bodies. We both gasp as we slot together, as I feel his velvety hardness press against mine. It's too good, the soft slide of our skin as we gently rock our hips, mouths meeting and parting in a slow dance of lips and tongues.
    I feel like I'm drowning in him; like my body is slowly melting and pooling and being absorbed, drop by drop; like we're making something new out of each other, a bit of us both. I no longer know where he ends and