Page 33 of Torch Songs

“Please!”

That’s all he needed. He thrust again, again, again, hard, pulling back by a hair to keep from hurting, until Guthrie gave a guttural moan Tad felt in hiscock, where they were joined, and begged, “Harder.”

Tad couldn’t hold on anymore. The want, the need, theyearninghe’d felt for Guthrie, for his body, for his soul—all ofit unleashed, and Tad fucked him hard and fucked him raw and drove himself into Guthrie’s body with all his strength.

“More,” Guthrie gasped, his voice still wobbly, still broken, but Tad listened to his word and kept going, kept fucking, until Guthrie’s little gasps, his fractured moans, could barely be heard above the slap of his thighs against Guthrie’s ass.

Suddenly Guthrie stiffened, head thrown back, body frozen, his asshole locked so tightly around Tad’s cock that it felt like an angry fist.

The mewl that bullied its way through Guthrie’s throat almost broke Tad then, but the shudders that rocked Guthrie’s body as he camedestroyedhim entirely. He gave his own cry and poured himself into this new lover, his sweat stinging his eyes as it spattered onto Guthrie’s backside, his hands shaking and cold as he tried to soften the heat of their bodies smacking together.

He tried to pull back his breathing, tried to talk, to say the usual things, when he realized Guthrie’s breaths were sobbing—but it was more than just his breath.

It was him.

Guthrie wassobbinginto the pillow, and Tad was confused. And horrified.

Guthrie fell forward, taking Tad with him, and Tad leaned over his shoulder, the two of them still joined. “Are you okay?” he asked. Oh God, had hehurtthis man? In sex? The thought made him ill.

“Fine,” Guthrie said, wiping his face on the pillow. Tears leaked steadily from the corner of his eye and down his nose on the side Tad could see. “I’m… don’t mind me. I-I do this. When it’s good. It was so good.Sogood.”

He took another breath, and it came out shakily, and Tad slid to the side, reaching down to pull the comforter over their bodies.

“Do what?” he asked, invading Guthrie’s space. “What—you’recrying! Oh my God, Guthrie, what did I do?”

Guthrie shook his head and tried to turn his head to the other side, but Tad stopped him with a short, briny kiss of comfort.

“Don’t turn away!” he begged. “Wha-what’s the matter?”

Guthrie let out one of those laughing sobs people gave when they were overwhelmed with emotion and gasped, trying to pull it back enough to talk.

“I…. God, this is so embarrassing,” Guthrie said, taking a deep breath. “I uhm… when sex is good, when I’vereallyconnected with someone… this happens. I just… I thought it would be a few tears is all. I-I’ve never just….” He shuddered again and worked hard to breathe through whatever was wracking his body, and Tad stopped trying to make him talk.

He pulled Guthrie close, his face into Tad’s neck, and whispered into the now-dry strands of coarse satin hair that covered his face. “It’s okay,” he said, hoping he got it. “You don’t have to hide this from me. It’s all right. You can… you can cry. It’s not a sin.”

Guthrie gave a suspicious-sounding snort, and his heaving shoulders relaxed some as he began to calm down. “Sure it’s not,” he muttered, sounding irritated.

“Shh….” Tad held him tight, quietly, peppering his face and hair with tiny kisses. “You’re safe here with me. It’s safe. You can cry. Make fuckfaces. Monkey sounds—it’s all good.” He smiled, hoping the humor would make the moment not quite so big, not quite so overwhelming for the man in his arms.

“Fuckfaces?” Guthrie asked, his voice a little more level, his body relaxing in Tad’s arms.

“You know,” Tad told him, peeking through Guthrie’s fall of hair and making sure he could see him cross his eyes and thrust his jaw out while he moaned in simulated ecstasy. “Fuckfaces.”

Guthrie’s broken giggles warmed him, and he let some of the tension, some of the fear of doing anything wrong bleed out. “You donotlook like that,” Guthrie told him tartly.

“How would you know?” Tad made another face, this one with fish lips and squinty eyes. “For all you know, this is what I do when I come.”

“Ha, ha.”

“No, seriously. I was holding back. I also trumpet like an elephant out my dick. It’s mortifying.”

Guthrie buried his face against Tad’s neck and laughed harder. “You’re such an asshole!” he complained good-naturedly.

“Yes, I have one,” Tad told him. “And if you let me see your fuckfaces, you might get to see it someday.”

Guthrie sighed, some of the giggles ebbing away. With a wiggle he slid far enough back to look Tad in the eye. “I’ve never… I mean, for obvious reasons, I don’t top.”

“Is there an extra penis I didn’t see that would make that uncomfortable?” Tad asked suspiciously.

---