Page 6 of Dream a Little Dream

The man hovered closer, a whisker away, and Aaron hungered for those tantalising, rough lips.Yearnedfor them. Burned for this man to rip out his soul. To hold him down. Suffocate him. Tear him apart, inside and out.

How was he doing this?Whywas he doing this?

“Are you gonna just stare at me?” Aaron threw out to curb his thudding heart. “Or use me?”

The man narrowed harrowing dark eyes, and his hand, gliding over the contours of Aaron’s body under his top, had a hesitance he could sense in his parting lips. As if he wondered, too, what all this was. But then, without warning, he splayed his other hand around Aaron’s throat, slamming him against the wall and crashed his mouth onto Aaron’s. Tongue fierce and demanding, he sought entrance to his mouth as if it was the balm to his severed mind. Aaron hadn’t expected the force, and he wasn’t a virgin, far from it, but he rarely handed himself over freely either.

Yet here he was, strangled into a kiss byhim.

Willingly.

Fingertips raged over his skin, rough and grazing, and Aaron grappled for the man’s belt, looping it open and unzipping him with haste. Clutch around his throat loosening, Aaron wrappedhis hand around the man’s cock, tugging it out, and peering down to catch a glimpse of his birthday present.

Nice.

Verynice.

Aaron must have let his reaction show on his face, because the man edged back. Looked down. Then back up. Aaron licked his lips, taking a deep breath as if ready to blow out the flickering candles on his cake. The man then twisted them both around, slamming his back on the wall, and Aaron was on his knees with his mouth around a thick ten inch cock before he could protest.

The man closed his eyes, screwing them tight as if he couldn’t bear to watch. To know. To witness what he so desperately needed. Aaron gave it to him, anyway. Sometimes, he was nice like that. To a kindred spirit. Someone who deserved it. And this man was both. So he went to work on him.

He sucked on him, humming, guzzling, gagging and ruffling his trousers down to get to his balls. Full and heavy, they needed some attention too, and he gave them a tug, earning a hiss from above, before fondling, then smoothing his fingers along the delicate skin beneath, causing a moan.

Fingers raked into Aaron’s hair and the man thrust his hips, watching his cock slide in and out of Aaron’s eager mouth.

“You’re good at that.” His voice was a revelation in itself.

Multi-layered. Deep, but not too sonorous. Authoritative but not too forceful. As though he could use it to command,perform, but could bring it to an intimate level when necessary. And there was a hint of an accent not native to the inner confines of the M25, either. He could tell, because he, too, wasn’t the born and bred Londoner people expected, despite the latter half of his life bearing a multi-cultural upbringing he’d slipped into with ease. Somehow, the voice in his head that he couldn’t quite place who it belonged to kept telling him topronounce. The result: a blend of muddied elocution. This man was similar. As ifhe’d spent years masking a midlands accent that didn’t fit in the circles he roamed. Or he wanted to roam.

“Yeah. You’re fucking good at that. That’s it. Good. Realfuckinggood.”

And he knew the right words to get Aaron gasping for more, along with a sweep of his hand over his head. Not clutching. Stroking.

Aaron gorged on him, taking him so far inside his throat he could feel his tip grazing his tonsils. The air cloyed with the scent of sweat and sex and something more elusive, and each suck on this man’s cock had the walls constructed around Aaron’s heart quaking, bricks loosening.

It wasn’t possible for them to collapse.

Was it?

The man tightened his fingers in Aaron’s hair, straddling the line between pleasure and pain, and Aaron’s gluttony hit a crescendo.

“You like that?” Hands gripped Aaron’s hair harder, and he responded with a resounding moan vibrating his cock. “Like sucking my cock. Course you do. Good boy.”

He then backed off, too far in his own pleasure and with a groan from above, visceral and elusive, he came, Aaron desperate to consume all contents to fill his empty stomach. But he hadn’t even swallowed before the man yanked him up, thrust him against the wall, and buried his face in his neck. Undoing Aaron’s button fly with a frantic rip, he pulled out his leaking, desperate cock and jerked. Furiously. No care. No attention. Fisting him as if he wanted to hurt him. Maybe he did. Certainly with how his teeth bit down on the tender skin on his neck, sucking on his tattooed symbol of Mars, unleashing a gasp of fragile pain. There’d be a bruise there tomorrow. Not a great start to his new life. But it would fade.

This memory wouldn’t.

“Fuck, fuck!” Aaron grasped his shoulders, the man’s hair tickling his face as he drove him closer and closer to his end, erratic and untamed. “Faster. Fuck, faster!” The man obliged, and Aaron bit his lip, curtailing his need to cry out.

“Like it fast, huh?” the man said, deep and rumbling, but also a little too pacifying for Aaron’s liking. As though he knew Aaron was trying to hold back from bursting free and he was offering him a safe place to do it. Especially when he followed it up with, “Go on. Let go. Wanna see you fall apart.”

So Aaron immediately obeyed, spilling his load to a string of garbled expletives. “Fuck, ohmyfuck. Jesus. Fuck.Yeah.” He then clamped down on his tongue so as not to spill anything else.

Like how fucking great that was. How unexpected. How he’d never known that would actually happen. Nor say anything that he couldn’t take back or have to pay off or have the authorities remove him from. And the man held Aaron, allowing him to fall into him, collapse against him and, for a fraction of a tiny moment, allowed him tobe.

To exist.

The aftermath was an awkward silence of breaths clouding breaths, heavy with the depth of what they’d done. This wasn’t flippant. Forgettable. Disposable.

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