Page 30 of Romeo vs Romeo

I placed my hand on the side of his torso, the other rising to the back of his head. “I’m going to make you mine,” I said in a voice I’d have used for threats two weeks ago.

“Oh yeah?” he half whimpered, half dared me. It was an almost pained sound he made, and it just added fuel to the blaze in me.

“Oh yeah,” I assured him, adding pressure to the back of his head and looking into his eyes from slightly above. Every tremor of fear that dared enter my heart was quickly turned into action by some arcane alchemy. This occult spell made the bolt of insecurity turn into the willpower that lifted me off the bed. I stood, my hand sliding to the front of Roman’s face, thumb and forefinger pinching his chin. “Mine,” I said; every ounce of greed Monsignor O’Connor called sinful filled up that word to the point of shattering.

“Yours,” Roman whispered fearfully, his eyes wide and never leaving my face. There was a playful flicker in them, but it was pale in comparison to the devotion that filled his gaze. I had seen this look in St. Augustine’s Cathedral. I had seen people give themselves to God with all their hearts and souls, and they looked exactly like this. I knew worship when I saw it, and it pleased me.

“Take your shirt off,” I told him, then held my breath as another wave of fearful desire thundered through me. I almost couldn’t believe it when Roman hooked his hands under the bottom edge of his T-shirt and then pulled it off and threw it on the floor. His bare, smooth chest rose and fell with big, steady breaths. “Do you like me like this?”

I returned my hand to his neck, sliding it to his bare shoulder. “I do.” And within me, it was as though I had swallowed glowing coals.

Roman raised his hands off his knees and put them on my hips, dragging them up my hoodie and lifting its lower edge off my bare skin. “And I like you like this,” he said, tugging the hoodie up and up and up until my abs were visible and his face a mere few inches away from my body.

I clamped down on the rising panic. They couldn’t cast me out if they never found out, I told myself. They didn’t matter now. So I pulled my hand away from his shoulder and put it onthe back of his beautiful head. In a voice that was barely more than a breath, I commanded, “Lick me.”

Roman shuddered, his fists tightening around the folds of my hoodie, his breath leaving his mouth in a hot gust, washing over my tense abs. Opening his mouth wider, Roman lifted his electrifying gaze to my eyes and watched me like he wanted to say, “Did you think I wouldn’t?” His pink tongue glistened in the dim light for a moment before he pressed it exactly above my hollow belly button. He exhaled shortly, and my skin prickled, exploding in goose bumps a moment before Roman dragged his tongue upward. He tasted me with unrestrained deviance, perfectly comfortable to do as he was told if it brought him pleasure.

A bolt of jealousy flashed through me. I wanted to be like that. I wanted to have my pleasure dictate my actions just like that. “…just like that…” I whispered, unsure if I was voicing my thoughts or reacting to the soul-shattering sensation of his hot, wet tongue crossing the hills and valleys of my muscles.

I took the edge of the hoodie from his hands and pulled it over my head, throwing the baggy thing away and letting Roman put his hands on my chest. As I reached behind my neck to take off the gold chain with a cross, Roman whispered, “Don’t.” My stomach filled with balefire. “Leave it on,” he said. My hands moved from my neck, and I gripped his bulging biceps like a wrestler on the offense. His tongue returned to my skin in a heartbeat.

Roman moaned so quietly and shortly that part of me couldn’t swear it hadn’t been inside my head. He rose slowly off the bed and continued to cross the length of my torso all the way until he folded my head in the crook of my neck, pulling his tongue between his lips and kissing my neck gently. The touch was so soft and torturous that I felt the urge to wiggle away from him, shivers running down my neck whenever he moved a little.

“Kiss me,” I said huskily, and Roman leaped to obey. Such a loud and fiery person, he was deliciously submissive when the lights dimmed. It suited him just as well as the role of a leader of a rebellion. I could see him climbing out of the trenches for another great push; I could see him claimed and owned and used for the sake of my pleasure.

Roman kissed me, and I lowered my head to take more and more from him. My tongue probed his mouth as the shivering fits passed. The longer I kissed him, the more certain I was that it was not wrong. How could this ever be wrong? My greed was not for wealth or control of people’s minds and souls. My greed was exclusive to him.

While kissing me, Roman’s hands fumbled between us, and the sound of fabric moving against his flesh told me what was happening a moment before I felt it. He found my hand and put it on the small of his back, pulling his head away to look into my eyes. “You can touch my ass,” he whispered, his cheeks red and glowing. “It’s yours now.”

He had let his pants fall to his ankles, his briefs hugging those firm, round cheeks lovingly. Letting go of my hand, he put both his palms on my chest, his fingernails scratching my skin lightly at the exact moment when my hand dropped from the small of his back to the fine curve of his ass. If he knew just how loudly my heart thundered inside my ears, he would begin to understand just how attracted I was to him.

I put the other hand on his other cheek and squeezed them both, mind ringing with disbelief that this was happening. I had never gone this far with another guy. My cock throbbed painfully inside my jeans when my fingers met in the middle between his cheeks, only a scrappy bit of cotton separating them from all that my heart desired.

“I’m yours,” he said, eyes widening briefly as I dared my fingers to reach nearer between his glutes. I could have swornI had felt it, the gentle tightening and relaxing of his hole in the smooth and narrow space between his cheeks. “Completely yours, Everett.”

“Yes, you are,” I purred, although a destructive sort of lust strangled me. It roared in me, yet it left me nearly voiceless. I fought hard not to wheeze when I inhaled a breath of air again. Roman’s hands circled my torso to rest on my broad upper back.

“Do what you want to me,” Roman said, pulling a lip between his teeth. “Whatever you want.”

A grunt left my throat, words suddenly a distant memory from another time. I squeezed his cheeks hard, spreading them until Roman winced. He was so utterly and indescribably sexy when he bared his teeth like this. A true fear of whether he would bite me crossed through my heart, and I adored it.

Words I had never said to another living creature, not even in my most desperate attempts to do it with the most willing girls, welled in me and poured over my lips. “I want to fill your sinful mouth with my cock until you choke.”

Roman was the only person whose delighted and daring smirk would meet those words.

Before he could find some quip to reply to that, I pinched his chin again. “Get on your knees, Roman.”

His smirk widened into a true, dimpled grin, and his eyes flashed wickedly. “To worship you?” He didn’t wait for me to know but descended to his knees while dragging his hands down my torso. “Give it to me,” he pleaded, fingers resting on the waistband of my jeans.

Something sacrilegious played out in the moments that followed. Something so unspeakably devious that it rocked me to my very core. And what I found where that good Catholic boy had died weeping for His mercy was a man with strength and courage and willingness to risk his comforts for the sake of beauty.

What we were doing at this very moment, with Roman on his knees and his head up, his pouty lips parting, and me unzipping my pants with false bravado about to make myself comfortable in his mouth, was our own kind of Communion. My body and my cum.

Sweat broke over my brow and under my arms as I stuffed my right hand inside my underwear, holding myself firmly and unmovingly. I feared that one wrong move would tip me over the edge, make me come, and ruin it for us again. So I opened my mouth and let the air move in and out of my lungs while Roman pulled down my jeans in a careful, devoted move. He waited with his mouth open as I pulled my throbbing dick out of my underwear and stroked myself very slowly right before his eyes.

He watched me do it. His breathing sped up as if we were at the peak of passion. He licked his lips and blinked. “Fuck,” he whispered tightly, eyes traveling down the length of my cock from the tip beaded with precum to where my fist held it at the root. “This is gonna be good.” His lips stretched open for me, and his gaze rose straight to my eyes, looking at me as I pressed the head of my cock against his outstretched tongue.

I didn’t let it show, but a storm of Biblical proportions raged in me. If I let myself shiver, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from falling apart. The warmth of that touch, the wetness and softness of his tongue as I inserted myself into his mouth, were more than simple sensations. I felt them in my heart.

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