“Sadly no, this was before my time.”
“I’m not sad about it at all.”
I caught your wrists and dragged you to me, capturing your mouth in the process. “You are a jealous one, cucciolo, for someone who’s never had to share.”
“Mine,” you growled, and I couldn’t help the warmth that spread at your claim. I’d never tire of teasing you.
“Yes, you greedy thing, all yours. Now lie back so I can have my turn.”
We rolled again, and you were at once soft and supple, lying underneath me and keening your desires. While I lost myself to the pleasure of unraveling you, your fingernails raked along my back, a certain reminder of your impatience, as was the tenor in your voice that demanded,now, Henriandmore.
“But it’s been so long since we last made love this way,” I said, sliding two oiled fingers deep inside you, delighting in the way your back bowed and your lungs emitted a breathless cry. “Are you prepared for all that I have to give?”
“All of it,” you insisted, already out of your mind. “You’re all I’ve thought about, you touching me like this, having you inside me.”
“You thought of us making love? Did you pleasure yourself while doing so?”
“Yes,” you admitted. “I rubbed myself raw thinking about you.”
“Your poor, abused phallus.” I gave it some loving attention with my mouth and tongue but not so much that you’d spend. Then I lifted your hips to position you before me because I wanted to watch you struggle. There was always some tension in the moments before we joined, where you held yourself so rigid and I had to remind you to let go and trust that our bodies were made this, that if you yielded to me, I would bring you insurmountable pleasure. No matter how many times we were intimate, it was, again, like our very first time, for all the surprise and anguish on your face, the tears that gathered in the corners of your eyes, and the desperate way about you.
“Ready?” I asked and you nodded, biting your lip.
I pushed inside you as a battle-weary blade rejoins its sheath, having butchered and killed, and now with a great sense of relief, returns to a place of tranquility. And while you accepted my blunt intrusion and the pain that resulted, I marveled at your willingness to make yourself vulnerable, to place your faith and trust in my hands.
“How’s that?” I adjusted us both so that my knees were underneath you, your body couched in mine.
“Better than my dreams,” you said, which was flattering because your dreams were pretty arousing.
“Do you know how much I treasure this? And you?” I moved just a little to garner another illicit moan.
“Yes,” you said with a slow, self-satisfied smile.
“And of all the men and women I’ve made love to—”
“Ugh, stop. You’re ruining it.”
I kissed your forehead. “I’m merely showering you with the praise and flattery needed to sustain you.”
“Don’t mention any others, Henri. It rattles my confidence.”
I hid my smile in the bend of your neck. “You may not have been my first lover, Vincent, but I intend for you be my last.”
“That’s better,” you said and pinched my buttocks. “Now put that ass to work.”
I did so with great relish, thankful that I’d built Xavier’s cottage at the other end of our island because your noises were not modest or discreet. My whole world was reduced to the warmth of your body, the slide of my cock inside you and the shifting of muscle and bone, as we sought our pleasure, wringing it from each other in blood, sweat, and tears. The whole of my passions burned brightly as we melded into one hot, delicious flame. Life and love. Fury and acceptance. Penance and forgiveness. I channeled all of my passions into our lovemaking, and you, my lover, shone more radiant than the sun.
Afterwards, wrapped in each other’s arms, you said, “I’ve been thinking about time lately.”
“What about time?”
“Well, you’ve obviously been alive longer than I have.”
“Just a smidge.”
“It used to bother me that I hadn’t shared all of those years with you. I felt like I’d missed out.”
“I can assure you, Vincent, you’ve gotten me in my golden years.”
