Author: Leslie MarshallJennieemcg@aol.com
Notes: Originally published in THE BIG B7 ZINE (1993)
Note 2: For Isis
by Leslie Marshal
Finally. Thank the gods, at last he'd escaped the dreary banquet. Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped no one watched his departure closely enough to note his unseemly haste. He didn't dwell on it, however; he had more important things to worry about now.
Well...actually he had only one concern at the moment - had, in fact, had only one concern for the last twenty-five interminable moments. Avon. Or, to be precise, the location of Avon. That was his reason for leaving the banquet. It sometimes seemed that Avon had been the reason for the vast majority of his actions over the past six years.
Tonight, at last, he'd seen a possible response... No, he thought, remembering the feel of Avon's hard body pressed so close to his own during the all too brief dance they'd shared earlier this evening, a definite response.
A response to the endless, aching desire he'd felt for Avon since their first meeting aboard the LONDON. He'd tried so very hard to bury his feelings for Avon; tried to content himself with friendship - never an easy proposition with the guarded Alpha. When that had failed, when his control threatened to slip away from him, he'd left...Stayed away from his obsession for two long years.
What could he do? After all, Avon had followed him. Had tracked him for those two years. That had to mean something. Didn't it? And, certainly, Avon's reaction upon finding him had to mean something. After all, one didn't try to kill a man one cared nothing for. Did one? It was a well known fact that there was, between love and hate, a very fine line. Possibly, just possibly, Avon had finally teetered toward love, as he trod that line.
Please, he thought, as he ran the last few steps to the door of their suite, a chance, that's all I ask. One chance to show him. Oh gods, please just one chance. Breathless, he burst into the living-area of their suite.
The noise of his precipitous entry echoed in the deserted room, mocking his eagerness. "Avon?" he called. Hesitantly, he crossed to the master bedroom, reluctant to face the emptiness he knew would greet him. Avon was not here. He always knew when the other man was near. How he knew this, he did not question. He simply accepted it as a fact of life.
A fact of his life...now. More and more often, of late, he found himself dividing his life into two distinct phases: "Before Avon" and "After Avon". It had become increasingly difficult to concern himself with any aspect of his life "Before Avon".
He sat on the couch, drearily contemplating the folly of his infatuation with Avon. A soft sound at the doorway brought his eyes up. Mouth agape, he stared at the vision before him.
Impossible. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them for a second look. This could not be Avon. Not with that joyous smile lighting his features. Could it?
Still smiling, the vision spoke: "I do hope you've been thinking of me, Blake."
"What?" he croaked. Nervously, he wet his lips as Avon moved closer. Couldn't quell a gasp when the ever-proud and defiant man knelt between his thighs.
Carefully, Avon raised a hand, lightly stroking the hardness tenting the front of Blake's trousers. "This is for me, isn't it?"
"Avon?" he asked, disbelieving.
Sultry eyes rose to scorch him, "Yes, Blake."
He felt tears rise at the soft answer. At the deep conviction evident on Avon's face. At the unspoken promise in the velvet tone. Curious fingers lifted to his cheek, carefully brushing away tears he couldn't control. Softly caressing, the fingers traveled down his cheek to his mouth, outlining his lips with warmth.
"Avon!" he gasped.
"Come here Blake, I want to touch you," said Avon, voice husky with apparent need.
All strength left his muscles. Bonelessly, he slipped off the couch into Avon's embrace. Mesmerized, Blake watched as Avon's mouth moved closer. He couldn't believe it, even when the warm lips closed over his own, he doubted the reality of the sensation.
The kiss deepened, grew more heated. With a sigh, Blake closed his arms around the smaller man. Drawing back, he gazed into eyes darkened by desire, was delighted to see a slight flush color Avon's face. Abruptly, Avon twisted, pushing him down to the floor. Grinning, the tech lay atop him, teasing him with brief touches of warm lips.
Frustrated by the fleeting contact, Blake arched up, desperate to be closer to the warm body above him. An anguished moan escaped, as Avon drew back to kneel above him.
"Shhh," was the velvet whisper, "lie still." Deft fingers opened his shirt, pushing the garment off Blake's shoulders, out of the way of questing hands. He shivered as curious fingers moved across his chest and down to rest on the waistband of his trousers.
The dark gaze caught his, silently asking if this was what he wanted. "Yesss," he hissed.
Following Avon's unspoken direction, Blake aided in the removal of his trousers. Slightly flushed, he lay quiescent as Avon surveyed his naked form. A small smile seemed to indicate approval.
Finally, Blake grew restless. He was happy that Avon liked his body butů "I thought you wanted to touch me."
Avon's smile widened, "I will. You must cultivate patience, Blake. One should savor such times as these."
"Like hell." Blake surged up, surprising Avon and pushing the tech down to lay over him. "You be patient. I shall savor."
And he did indeed savor every square centimeter of Avon. As he peeled the layers of leather off of Avon, he paused often to explore. How responsive the guarded tech was. He gasped at every new touch, shifting restlessly when Blake pulled back to view his quivering body. Curiously, Blake ran his hands over the expanse of chest, delighting in the silky black fur that dusted fair skin. Teasingly, he traced sensitive nipples then followed the path of hair down to Avon's groin.
Avon stilled as Blake reached his aching erection. Smiling, he lightly ran one finger down the pulsating vein to the base, then investigated the tight sac beneath. "Blake!" Avon groaned.
"Shhh," Blake soothed, "I'm savoring." One hand slid down a smoothly muscled thigh. Avon sighed and shifted.
Unable to resist the pouting lips any longer, Blake leaned over to kiss them. Strong arms closed around him, pulling him more securely on top of Avon. The tech spread his legs, wrapping them around Blake, holding him firmly.
Avon tore his lips free, burying them in Blake's neck. "I want you," he murmured.
Lost in the embrace, Blake had barely registered the repositioning which Avon had cleverly engineered. Dazed, he realized just what it was Avon wanted. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea," he whispered, "we're not exactly prepared."
One arm released its hold on Blake and reached for discarded trousers. After a moment's fumbling, Avon withdrew something from the pocket. Blake thought that Avon blushed enchantingly as he handed the rebel a vial of scented creme.
"I am always prepared, Blake." The somewhat arrogant statement was softened by the breathless tone in which it was delivered. "Now, fuck me. Please."
Butterflies erupted in Blake's stomach. How he'd dreamed of making love with Avon. Somehow though, he'd never actually imagined that he should fuck the man, he caught his breath at the very idea.
"Now Blake, please," came the velvet words.
"Now," he answered. Reluctantly, he rose to his knees,between Avon's outstretched legs. With trembling fingers, he opened the vial and covered his penis with the lotion. Carefully, he inserted one finger into Avon, watching the tech's face for any signs of discomfort.
Eyes, black now with passion, returned his gaze, pleasure at the touch evident. "Hurry," whispered Avon.
Sweat collected at the base of his spine, as Blake lifted long legs to rest on his shoulders. Avon's hands lowered to his hips, urging him forward. Groaning, he sank into the warmth. He paused once, as Avon tensed at the intrusion, but the tech merely smiled reassuringly and pushed up, straining to be closer.
Once fully sheathed, Blake paused to brush strands of hair out of Avon's eyes. "Okay?" he asked tenderly.
"Mmmm," Avon purred. "Move, Blake. Let me feel you."
Mindful of the fragility of the body engulfing him, Blake moved carefully. Gently rotating his hips, he watched Avon anxiously for signs of discomfort. He could barely believe the expression of satisfaction that crossed the tech's face. The extreme intimacy of being allowed to see Avon like this threatened to bring him to tears. With aching slowness he withdrew, then paused when a slight frown appeared between Avon's brows.
"What?" he asked.
"Not enough," Avon said, voice softer than Blake had ever heard it. "Here, lie down."
Silently, Blake did as requested. Avon rose to his knees, then straddled the prone body. Blake caught his breath as he realized what Avon planned. His hands rose to cradle the erection that jutted proudly from between Avon's legs.
Air hissed between Avon's teeth at the touch; gently he caught Blake's hands in his own. "Not yet, Blake. I'll never last long enough if you touch me." Gracefully, the dark man lifted himself, reaching around to grab Blake's cock in a firm hand, guiding him into the tight passage. Blake watched stupefied as the tech lowered himself, surrounding his hardness with velvet warmth. A satisfied grin tilted the corners of Avon's mouth as he impaled himself completely.
"Ah," he said, "now I can watch you fuck me."
Blake caught his breath; the words alone were enough to bring him perilously close to crisis. And the toneþ-he couldn't recall ever hearing such open lust, such wanting, from any other. And to see Avon, covered with a fine sheen of sweat, eyes bright with passion, sitting on his cock...Shuddering, he closed his eyes, reigning in his wanton need.
"Blake," came a husky whisper, "watch me Blake." Curious fingers touched his face, gently tracing the line of his cheekbone. He peered up at Avon, gratified to note that the tech was flushed and breathing hard. Magic fingers moved down his face and neck to his chest; with a wicked grin, Avon pinched his nipples, twisting sharply.
Gasping, Blake grasped Avon's hips in his hands, urging. "Move," he ordered hoarsely.
Guided by Blake's hands, the tech rose smoothly, then descended with torturous slowness. Grinning at Blake's distress, Avon continued to move languidly, openly teasing.
Intending to wipe the unbearably smug expression off of the face above, Blake reached to caress Avon's penis with trembling fingers. Matching the motion of his hands to those of Avon's hips, he squeezed and stroked with increasing fervor as the hips rose and fell in an escalating rhythm. Unable to stay the response, his own hips lifted, desperate to return to the engulfing warmth each time Avon rose. The sharp sound of their bodies slapping together sounded sweetly in his ears.
A droplet of sweat fell from Avon's brow onto his own. One hand lifted to gently wipe the wetness from Avon's face. Soft brown eyes sought his; the suspicion of tears in their corners caused Blake to swallow thickly. Curious, he ran a finger along the damp lashes then lowered his hand to his mouth, tasting Avon's tears.
Avon watched, eyes darkening to an opaque blackness. Blake tightened his hold on the achingly erect hardness, pumping harder in time with the frantically pistoning hips.
"Come," he commanded. "Now, Avon."
As if in response to the sound of Blake's voice, the tech reared back, a sharp gasp escaping open lips. Mesmerized, barely comprehending, Blake stared; never before had he seen anything so beautiful as Avon caught in the throes of orgasm - every muscle in the lean body stood out in sharp relief, taut skin glistening, face transfigured by pleasure into an expression of such absolute joy that Blake couldn't tear his eves away. Heat seared his chest as ribbons of white semen branded him. The convulsive clenching of the warm muscles surrounding his cock tripped Blake over the edge, causing his own orgasm. With a strangled shout he pushed upward, seeking to bury himself forever in the man above.
With trembling arms he received the tech, as Avon wearily slumped forward to rest limply on Blake's chest. Unmindful of the stickiness of drying sweat and semen between them, Blake held Avon to him, treasuring the closeness. Finally, with a tired sigh, Avon moved to lay beside him, pillowing his head on Blake's shoulder.
They lay for some time, Blake idly threading his fingers through the silken strands of Avon's hair. He shifted uncomfortably on the hard floor and Avon mumbled a sleepy protest.
"Come on, gorgeous, let's go to bed."
One eye opened to glare at Blake balefully, "What did you call me?"
Blake smiled. "Gorgeous." Tilting his head down, he stole a kiss. "And you are."
"Yes," Avon agreed complacently, still resting against Blake.
"C'mon," Blake nudged, "get up. This damned floor is cold."
"You may carry me."
"What?" Blake was certain he had heard incorrectly.
"I'm quite weary." Languidly Avon stretched, then rolled aside so that Blake could rise. "After all," he teased, "I did all the work while you just lay there. Therefore, I feel it only fair that you should carry me in to bed."
"As you wish." Straining a bit under Avon's not inconsiderable weight, Blake struggled to the bed where he unceremoniously dropped his burden. Panting a bit from the exertion, he lay next to the other man and pulled him closer.
"Sleep now," he said.
With a yawn, Avon nodded his compliance. "I love you." Blake whispered into his hair.
Blake pinched him. Hard.
Avon jumped, then sat up, smiling the sweetest smile Blake had ever seen. "I love you too." A butterfly soft kiss touched Blake's lips, then Avon lay back, snuggling into his arms happily.
For the first time in a very long time, Blake slept undisturbed by the vague feelings of yearning which had plagued him since Avon's entry into his life. He held in his arms all that he could ever want or need.
And when he woke, he knew that the greatest adventure of a lifetime awaited him; for finally he'd won his great cause. All that was left to do was live.
With Avon finally at his side, he would do just that. Nothing else mattered at all.