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The problem, Walker decided, with this Tower Records job was the shifts. Luke had been on lates all month, and with him having to be at school before eight each morning they’d hardly seen each other. Even their weekends were fragmented, cluttered with other people, and Luke’s Sunday shift. Waking up with a strong arm wrapped around you was good, but damnit, he missed Luke – missed talking with him, missed cooking together, and messing around on the sofa, and sharing the shower. Missed knowing that while he was wading though teaching preparation and marking maths tests, Luke was working out in the next room, and that he could, if the mood took him, put down his red pen and go watch.
Which was why he’d been laying here this past half an hour, with the curtains casting blue shadowed light over the room, watching Luke sleep. He’d gone to sleep alone again, and woken to find himself curled into Luke’s side, his arm tucked over Luke’s stomach, their legs tangled together. He didn’t want to move. Listening to Luke’s long even breathing, and the heartbeat under his ear, and the faint sound of traffic outside, his Saturday morning was feeling good.
After a while he shifted, unwrapping his legs, and leaning up on one elbow the better to watch. His hand rested on Luke, riding the rise and fall of his breathing. And then, because it was too good to resist, his hand was tugging the sheet down, so he could watch it rising and falling on Luke’s chest. Watch it stroke gently, in little random circles and squiggles over that warm tan skin. So slow, so soft – Luke was dead to the world, and if he’d only got in from work five hours ago, Walker was going to guess that waking him would be both unfair and unwise.
But he was enjoying the feel of smooth skin and calm breathing, enjoying being slow with Luke – these last few weeks had been all absence and desperation. The darker skin around Luke’s nipple was tightening under his languid stroking, and Walker watched, finger tips just grazing the nipple over and over: purely scientific observation, of course. Watching Luke’s face all the while, Walker shifted, letting his arm rest on Luke’s chest, his fingers sliding over the far nipple, circling the aurora, slipping his fingers over the nipple in time with his tongue, dabbing quickly at it’s pair, tasting warmth, tasting Luke. Walker moaned softly – he’d missed that too, the taste of Luke’s skin. Slowly, gently, he upped his contact with that skin, licking gently, then letting his breath breeze over the damp skin, his fingers following his tongue’s lead. His own arousal was beginning to tighten in his belly, coiling like warm honey as his prick was filling, every nerve in him focused on loving Luke so slowly, so gently.
Luke stirred under him, tossing his head towards Walker, straightening his half-cocked hip. Walker froze. There was a long exhalation, almost a sigh, and then the steady rhythm of Luke’s sleeping breath returned. Relieved, Walker continued his exploration of that chest, those firm, flat pecs, those darkening, hardening nipples, so soft, so slow. The arm that was bent under him put his hand against his own chest, his left hand mirroring the movement of his right, cataloguing the differences between them, sending shocks of sensation to coil behind his balls. His own smaller, sharper nipples invited pinching while he was gently pulsing squeezes and suction around Luke’s.
Looking down the long lines of his lover’s body he could hardly fail to notice that Luke’s movement had pulled the sheets lower still, as though he was asking Walker to draw his fingers over the warm soft belly, tangle his fingers in the dark curls, trace the lines of his hips with hungry fingers. It was also quite impossible for Walker not to notice that Luke’s dreams were apparently good ones: his cock was tenting the sheet, his legs wanton and open. Walker smiled against the warm chest.
Keeping his movement slow and long, he started to move with more intent. He kicked the sheet lower again, and leaned forward, his finger’s following his mouth’s rhythm kneading gently over Luke’s thighs, combing curls, slowly running Luke’s balls between them, stroking the skin behind, but never touching the erection that was painting trails of silver moisture over his wrist.
Luke’s breathing hitched again, and Walker bit his lip, but didn’t entirely still his wandering right hand. Perhaps he was being fanciful, but Walker thought he heard a faint “...ker’” in the half moan. He rested his head on Luke’s chest once more, watching his own hand and listening for Luke’s reaction as he gently drew his fingers up the heavy cock. He settled into a loose grip and slow, steady strokes, Luke's body reacting with a tightening of the muscles under his arm, another soft moan, but no sign of waking. He tightened his grip a little, pulling back the foreskin with his next downward stroke, and smiling as Luke’s hips jerked upwards a fraction, and his own dick responded in kind. His hand moved faster in sympathy, his thumb sliding across the exposed head without Walker’s conscious instruction, slick and hot. Luke’s hips moved again.
Licking his lips, Walker moved carefully, trying not to wake Luke as he kneeled up, moving down the bed to straddle one of Luke’s legs, his own breath catching as his cock settled against the warm skin of his thigh, the hairs tickling against the sensitized skin. Supporting himself with his hands either side of Luke’s hips, Walker bent forward, tasting Luke, an effort of will to keep his mouth loose, his movements slow. Luke’s breathing hitched as the hot mouth surrounded his head, but he slept on. Very good dreams indeed.
After too many agonizingly slow strokes, Walker pulled back, just holding the head between his lips as he tongued the foreskin, slipping his tongue over, and in, tasting musk and sex and the concentrated Luke that he was so addicted to. Leaning in once more, he pushed the loose skin back with his lips, his tongue broad and flat against the underside of the exposed glans. Luke rolled his hips, and let out a gasp. Walker pressed closer, allowing himself to move faster, adding suction and a hint of teeth, let his tongue circle the head on the upstrokes, let his head move to press it against the roof of his mouth as he came down. Luke’s balls were tightening, his breath coming shorter, harder, and he was coming, hard pulses in his mouth, Luke’s body twisting under him, his hands grabbing his hair, his shoulder.
“Oh shit yes!”
Walker swallowed around the aftershocks before lifting his head.
Luke flopped back onto the pillows, panting out words between breaths.
“Fuck Walker! Oh God. I love you!”
“Love you too.”
Walker crawled up Luke’ body, looking down at his face: flushed and dazed and happy.
“Good dream?” he smiled
Luke reached up one arm, and pulled Walker down on top of him, kissing him messily, sleepily.
“Love you. Better than dreams. Oh shit babes – I was dreaming of you, and then…. Fuck but you’re good!”
Luke’s head dropped back again, his head too heavy for his boneless sated state. Walker grinned, nuzzled against the stubbled chin. He stayed there listening, feeling Luke relaxing under him, his breathing slowing again. Dropping a kiss in the center of Luke’s chest he slid off, rolling away so he was on his back, his left hand resting on Luke’s hip. He was so hard, Luke’s pleasure so mixed with his own it only took a few firm strokes for him to find his own release. He wiped himself off, throwing the discarded sheet somewhere away from the bed, and curled back into his lover to doze a while longer.
Which was why he’d been laying here this past half an hour, with the curtains casting blue shadowed light over the room, watching Luke sleep. He’d gone to sleep alone again, and woken to find himself curled into Luke’s side, his arm tucked over Luke’s stomach, their legs tangled together. He didn’t want to move. Listening to Luke’s long even breathing, and the heartbeat under his ear, and the faint sound of traffic outside, his Saturday morning was feeling good.
After a while he shifted, unwrapping his legs, and leaning up on one elbow the better to watch. His hand rested on Luke, riding the rise and fall of his breathing. And then, because it was too good to resist, his hand was tugging the sheet down, so he could watch it rising and falling on Luke’s chest. Watch it stroke gently, in little random circles and squiggles over that warm tan skin. So slow, so soft – Luke was dead to the world, and if he’d only got in from work five hours ago, Walker was going to guess that waking him would be both unfair and unwise.
But he was enjoying the feel of smooth skin and calm breathing, enjoying being slow with Luke – these last few weeks had been all absence and desperation. The darker skin around Luke’s nipple was tightening under his languid stroking, and Walker watched, finger tips just grazing the nipple over and over: purely scientific observation, of course. Watching Luke’s face all the while, Walker shifted, letting his arm rest on Luke’s chest, his fingers sliding over the far nipple, circling the aurora, slipping his fingers over the nipple in time with his tongue, dabbing quickly at it’s pair, tasting warmth, tasting Luke. Walker moaned softly – he’d missed that too, the taste of Luke’s skin. Slowly, gently, he upped his contact with that skin, licking gently, then letting his breath breeze over the damp skin, his fingers following his tongue’s lead. His own arousal was beginning to tighten in his belly, coiling like warm honey as his prick was filling, every nerve in him focused on loving Luke so slowly, so gently.
Luke stirred under him, tossing his head towards Walker, straightening his half-cocked hip. Walker froze. There was a long exhalation, almost a sigh, and then the steady rhythm of Luke’s sleeping breath returned. Relieved, Walker continued his exploration of that chest, those firm, flat pecs, those darkening, hardening nipples, so soft, so slow. The arm that was bent under him put his hand against his own chest, his left hand mirroring the movement of his right, cataloguing the differences between them, sending shocks of sensation to coil behind his balls. His own smaller, sharper nipples invited pinching while he was gently pulsing squeezes and suction around Luke’s.
Looking down the long lines of his lover’s body he could hardly fail to notice that Luke’s movement had pulled the sheets lower still, as though he was asking Walker to draw his fingers over the warm soft belly, tangle his fingers in the dark curls, trace the lines of his hips with hungry fingers. It was also quite impossible for Walker not to notice that Luke’s dreams were apparently good ones: his cock was tenting the sheet, his legs wanton and open. Walker smiled against the warm chest.
Keeping his movement slow and long, he started to move with more intent. He kicked the sheet lower again, and leaned forward, his finger’s following his mouth’s rhythm kneading gently over Luke’s thighs, combing curls, slowly running Luke’s balls between them, stroking the skin behind, but never touching the erection that was painting trails of silver moisture over his wrist.
Luke’s breathing hitched again, and Walker bit his lip, but didn’t entirely still his wandering right hand. Perhaps he was being fanciful, but Walker thought he heard a faint “...ker’” in the half moan. He rested his head on Luke’s chest once more, watching his own hand and listening for Luke’s reaction as he gently drew his fingers up the heavy cock. He settled into a loose grip and slow, steady strokes, Luke's body reacting with a tightening of the muscles under his arm, another soft moan, but no sign of waking. He tightened his grip a little, pulling back the foreskin with his next downward stroke, and smiling as Luke’s hips jerked upwards a fraction, and his own dick responded in kind. His hand moved faster in sympathy, his thumb sliding across the exposed head without Walker’s conscious instruction, slick and hot. Luke’s hips moved again.
Licking his lips, Walker moved carefully, trying not to wake Luke as he kneeled up, moving down the bed to straddle one of Luke’s legs, his own breath catching as his cock settled against the warm skin of his thigh, the hairs tickling against the sensitized skin. Supporting himself with his hands either side of Luke’s hips, Walker bent forward, tasting Luke, an effort of will to keep his mouth loose, his movements slow. Luke’s breathing hitched as the hot mouth surrounded his head, but he slept on. Very good dreams indeed.
After too many agonizingly slow strokes, Walker pulled back, just holding the head between his lips as he tongued the foreskin, slipping his tongue over, and in, tasting musk and sex and the concentrated Luke that he was so addicted to. Leaning in once more, he pushed the loose skin back with his lips, his tongue broad and flat against the underside of the exposed glans. Luke rolled his hips, and let out a gasp. Walker pressed closer, allowing himself to move faster, adding suction and a hint of teeth, let his tongue circle the head on the upstrokes, let his head move to press it against the roof of his mouth as he came down. Luke’s balls were tightening, his breath coming shorter, harder, and he was coming, hard pulses in his mouth, Luke’s body twisting under him, his hands grabbing his hair, his shoulder.
“Oh shit yes!”
Walker swallowed around the aftershocks before lifting his head.
Luke flopped back onto the pillows, panting out words between breaths.
“Fuck Walker! Oh God. I love you!”
“Love you too.”
Walker crawled up Luke’ body, looking down at his face: flushed and dazed and happy.
“Good dream?” he smiled
Luke reached up one arm, and pulled Walker down on top of him, kissing him messily, sleepily.
“Love you. Better than dreams. Oh shit babes – I was dreaming of you, and then…. Fuck but you’re good!”
Luke’s head dropped back again, his head too heavy for his boneless sated state. Walker grinned, nuzzled against the stubbled chin. He stayed there listening, feeling Luke relaxing under him, his breathing slowing again. Dropping a kiss in the center of Luke’s chest he slid off, rolling away so he was on his back, his left hand resting on Luke’s hip. He was so hard, Luke’s pleasure so mixed with his own it only took a few firm strokes for him to find his own release. He wiped himself off, throwing the discarded sheet somewhere away from the bed, and curled back into his lover to doze a while longer.