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“Peel your heart like a pomegranate. Offer it to him, palms outwards. Say “eat.” Watch him come away stained red by you. You’re in his teeth. He’ll kiss you with that mouth.”
— Azra.T “Fruit”
Marcus is dreaming. He dreams of thunder and moss, white stone and fire. He dreams of trees groaning in the dark, and frogs singing from ponds. There are wicked lashes against his back, his hands full of sugar that slips through his fingers like sand. He raises his face to unending light, his soul shot through with grace. On the other side of the bright there is Tomas. Always Tomas.
His eyes open as he wakes. The first thing Marcus notices is the dip of the bed beside him and the warmth that emanates from it, not the usual cool blankness of sheets. He rolls onto his side to see his lover, smiling when he beholds Tomas’ sleeping face and tousled hair. His chest aches with wonder. How did this happen? What was the exact moment he became this blessed?
He gently runs his fingers along the rise of Tomas’ hip and studies his face. Faint freckles dot the tops of his cheeks, his lips are full and pink, stubble studs his chin. The bedsheet is slung low around Tomas’ hips and Marcus follows the line of hair on Tomas’ abdomen down until it disappears. He breathes in suddenly. Marcus is getting hard. He wants. God, he wants. He moves in closer to his lover and gently places a kiss on his forehead, then his cheek, then his lips. Tomas stirs. Marcus quietly shuffles down the length of Tomas’ body and gently pushes the sheet lower. The younger man’s cock lies vulnerable and soft against his thigh. Marcus opens his mouth and takes him in.
Tomas moans, rolling over onto his back. Marcus sucks harder as Tomas’ cock fills his mouth, growing and firming. The younger man lazily runs his fingers over his partner’s short-cropped hair. Marcus groans in response and cups the other man’s balls as he suckles. Marcus has only done this a few times in his life, far fewer than he’d like, and right now he wishes he were more experienced than he is. Still, he’s determined to use what knowledge he does have, of both sex and Tomas, to make this a decadent way for Tomas to start his day.
Marcus grasps the base of the younger man’s cock and licks up the shaft, then dives down around the head. He creates suction in his mouth and begins to keep a rhythm of decent and rise. He grasps Tomas’ ass with his other hand and squeezes. Tomas thrusts up in response. Marcus takes him further into his mouth and hums. He glances up through his eyelashes at Tomas, and his cock aches as he watches his lover’s pleasure. Marcus wants Tomas to come in his mouth. He wants to feel him shake and groan. He wants. He wants.
Tomas begins shallow thrusts, his hands now shaking and gently exploring Marcus’ hair and face. Marcus can feel him begin to aim for his orgasm and watches in awe as Tomas’ mouth falls open, his face twisting in ecstasy. The ex-priest continues to suck and lick as his hands run up and down Tomas’ thighs.
“Oh! Marcus, mi amor, I’m going to come. I’m going to…I’m coming!” Tomas cries out. Marcus swallows easily, loving the taste of Tomas on his tongue. He gives himself one, two, three quick tugs and then he’s coming as well, moaning around the cock in his mouth. For a few moments there is no sound in the room but heavy breathing as they both recover.
“Well,” Tomas says. “Buenos dias!” Marcus chuckles and climbs up to Tomas’ face, kissing his nose.
“You’re so beautiful,” Marcus whispers.
“You stayed. You didn’t go. You stayed with me. You gave me…you gave yourself to me,” Tomas says with awe.
“Never really considered any other option,” Marcus states while rolling on to his back. “Thank you for last night. It was perfect. YOU are perfect.” He reaches down and threads his fingers into Tomas’. “Shower?” Marcus asks.
“Yes, please.”
The lanky man scoots down the bed and stands, then walks to the side where Tomas lays and offers him his hand. “Join me?” Marcus offers. Tomas accepts.
Under the hot spray and steam they hold one another, skin against skin, mouth against mouth. Marcus cries and is grateful that the shower disguises it. He already feels so vulnerable and raw. He suspects that he could come apart at his weakening seams at any moment. Only Tomas has the needle and thread required to piece him back together. It is terrifying.
“Are you sore at all?” Tomas asks carefully. “You know, from….”
Marcus’ behind is a bit sore, but it’s wonderful ache, like a well-earned bruise. “Yes,” he answers, “and I love it.” He grins ear to ear and then kisses away the expression of worry on Tomas’ glorious face. “Come on,” he says as he towels off, “I want to buy you breakfast.”
At a small diner, a few blocks from their hotel, Marcus butters toast and peels the cover off a small tub of strawberry jam. He glances up at Tomas, who is struggling with coffee creamer, and smiles.
“Didn’t know you liked pancakes,” Marcus comments, his mouth full of toast. Tomas shrugs as he pours syrup generously over a huge stack of blueberry flapjacks.
“I only eat them a couple of times a year. Special occasions…” he shyly grins at Marcus. Marcus is bursting with love, all smiles and anxiety…butterflies ricochet around cage of his chest. It’s wonderful. The waitress stops by to see how their food is, and Marcus notices that not for the first time, her eyes linger longingly on Tomas’ face and Tomas smiles in response. Marcus recognizes the sharp emotional pang of jealousy that spikes through his gut. He frowns but says nothing. She leaves, but not soon enough for Marcus.
“What’s the plan now?” Marcus begins. “What next? What do we do…. with all this?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Tomas sighs and sits back in his seat. “But things will change for sure. Let’s not worry about it today, ok?” Marcus nods slowly in agreement and finishes the rest of his eggs. He excuses himself to use the restroom.
Upon returning, he sees the waitress has come back around to their table and is sitting next to Tomas. She is laughing loudly and leaning towards him in an unmistakable cloud of flirtation. Marcus is miffed. He marches to the table and tosses cash in the center.
“I’ll be outside when you’re…done,” he snarls. He pauses long enough to see surprise and concern bloom over the younger man’s face. Marcus feels awkward silence close in behind him as he struts out of the restaurant. Once out the door he feels his anger recede, and foolishness slide into its place. He was wrong to behave like that. He was wrong again. Always, always wrong.
“What was that about?” Tomas questions as the diner door shuts behind him. Gentleness and annoyance crowd his face, competing.
“Nothin’,” Marcus spits as he stomps away.
“Marcus. Marcus!” the priest yells as he jogs to catch up with his partner. The older man feels his hand grasped firmly and he spins around, defensive.
“Do you like her?” Marcus questions.
“Who?” Tomas asks confusedly.
“The waitress? Cause she sure as hell liked you.” Tomas groans and rubs his face with his hands. Marcus feels like a fool. But his anger rages forward, despite his sincere wish that it would abate. He’d love to be able to stop making an ass of himself.
“I don’t know…I didn’t really notice her.” Tomas replies.
“Oh please…”
“I mean, she was a good waitress. But I didn’t think of her…like…that.” Tomas has lowered his voice, his eyes searching Marcus’ face with compassion.
“You didn’t want her?” Marcus asks. He retreats into a cloud of embarrassment for his overreaction. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business how you feel about her. I’m…I’m being dumb. I guess I’m just sensitive after last night and I-"
“Marcus,” Tomas interrupts. “I didn’t want her. I don’t want her. I don’t…I don’t want anyone but you.” Marcus becomes distinctly aware of a unique sensation of relief as his bitterness is pulverized to dust. He smiles and leans in to kiss the curly haired man on the forehead.
“I’m sorry,” the older man mumbles. “Just acting like a fool…”
“Hush,” Tomas responds. “This is all new for both of us. Forget it. Let’s walk.”
Hand in hand the two men stroll calmly back towards the hotel. Marcus squeezes Tomas’ palm and feels its heat. He thinks of the slide of Tomas inside him the night before, of the sound of abandon that Tomas made when he came, of the softness of his tongue over Marcus’ nipple, of the salt on his skin. Marcus cannot wait to get his mouth on him again.
He is kissing Tomas before the hotel room door slams shut. He feels the younger man react in surprise to his eagerness, then feels lips draw into a smile against his own.
“Want to make up for lost time, yes?” Tomas purrs to Marcus while unbuttoning his shirt.
“There aren’t enough days to make up for missing this all of my life, but I want to cover as much ground as I can in the time I have left,” the tall man whispers. He fumbles with the button and zipper on Tomas’ jeans as he kisses down his neck. Overwhelming need grasps at Marcus’ body and he sucks a bruise onto his partner’s collarbone. “I want you, so badly…” he pleads. The jeans pool around the younger man’s feet and he steps out of them. The ex-priest’s hand fondles the newly exposed growing erection through Tomas’ boxers. “Please, now…I want…” He pulls away from the curly haired man’s neck and pulls his shirt over his head. The brown flesh that is revealed makes Marcus salivate. “So beautiful, my Tomas…” Marcus pushes a hand into the boxers and finds his warm and firm goal. The head of Tomas’ cock is exquisitely soft, and it weeps precome. The older man swirls the liquid across the head, then brings his fingers up and applies the salty fluid to his lips. He kisses Tomas deeply, tongue pushing insistently into the other man’s mouth as he groans.
“Grab the lube on the side table,” Tomas says as he breaks the kiss. “Today it’s your turn, as promised.” He jumps into bed and smiles mischievously. Marcus is aroused and intrigued and adoring and….lost. He is completely lost in these new feelings and sensations. He hopes he never finds his way out. Discarding the rest of his clothes, he palms the lube and gleefully climbs into bed, already peppering kisses across Tomas’ abs. Tomas runs fingertips sweetly over the older man’s face as he watches him worship.
“Put your fingers in me,” Tomas instructs. “Open me up for you.” Marcus swallows and grinds his own erection against the other man’s thigh. He uncaps the lube and spreads some on his fingers while Tomas raises his knees, his feet coming to rest flat on the mattress.
“I know you already know this, but I’ve never done this before,” Marcus whispers shyly. ‘Please tell me if I’m hurting you.”
“Rub the tip of one finger against my entrance,” Tomas breathes. Marcus presses in against the firm globes of the younger man’s ass and finds the spot. He applies light pressure in small circles, completely entranced by the younger man’s shifting expression.
“Good. Now, push your finger in a little. Not too much at once.” Tomas closes his eyes and brings his arms up over his head, his ribs visible under warm skin. Marcus obeys, pushing his finger inside and then quickly dipping out, gathering more lube. He goes in again and lowers his lips to Tomas’ balls, licking and then gently sucking them into his mouth. Tomas both tenses and relaxes at the same time, breathing out between pursed lips. “So good, mi amor. Now add another.” Marcus obeys and slides a second finger in next to the first. Slowly, he thrusts his fingers in and out, over and over. The ex-priest marvels at the tight heat around his fingers, and shudders when he imagines sinking his cock into that same space. He thinks it’s entirely possible he will immediately come and he’s determined not to fulfill that prophecy.
“Does it feel good?” Marcus quietly asks.
“Si, very. Now curl your fingers towards you, towards my front.” Marcus does so and is instantly rewarded by a loud groan from Tomas’ throat. “Yessss,” Tomas breathes, “keep going, fuck, keep going.” The older man eyes Tomas’ cock, which is flushed red, its skin tight and drawn around its length. He notices that the younger man’s balls have drawn up closer to his body.
“I don’t want you to come yet,” Marcus whispers. “Not yet, please.” He places a sweet kiss on Tomas’ thigh.
“Ok, ok,” Tomas agrees as he sighs. “Come here.”
Marcus gently withdrawals his fingers from within his partner and rises to kiss his mouth with slow, languid longing. Goosebumps prick along his arm as Tomas scrapes his nails against Marcus’ scalp. His cock throbs against the younger man’s thigh. Tomas gently pulls away and sits up, then stands and moves towards the mirror on the wall of the room. He turns around to smirk at the older man, whose jaw is slack. Marcus feels saliva pooling under his tongue and absently wonders if it’s possible to go insane from desire. Tomas reaches the mirror, and places both hands on the dresser below it, bending over, bracing himself and presenting his ass like a gift. He looks at Marcus’ reflection in the mirror.
“Take me,” Tomas says, his voice laced with lust. Marcus shorts out for a moment, lost entirely in a maze of anticipation, desire and love. Blinking, he finally begins to focus on Tomas’ ass…firm, the hole glistening with lube. He realizes in order to make love to his partner; he’s going to have to rally the fortitude to stand up and walk. Tomas stirs by the mirror and looks again at Marcus' reflection. “Fuck me, Marcus.”
Marcus swallows hard and stands. He feels every step on the carpet beneath his feet, every breath that rushes through is chest. When he reaches Tomas, it seems as though he's crossed a desert to arrive. The older man runs his hands over his lover’s back, softly kneading the soft brown flesh pulled taut over muscle. Moving his hands lower, he cups and squeezes Tomas’ ass. He bends over and lowers his mouth to the curly haired man’s back and presses his lips sweetly to warm skin. His kisses pepper over Tomas’ hips, shoulders, and the dip at his lower back. Standing up, he looks at Tomas in the mirror, their eyes locked intimately. Marcus takes his cock in his hand and lines himself up with Tomas’ opening. Tomas remains bent over, hands on the dresser, watching the taller man intensely. Pushing into his lover, Marcus’ lips form a sweet “O” as his eyelids fall.
“Look at me, Marcus. Stay here,” the younger man demands. The ex-priest’s eyes fly open and find Tomas’ once again in the mirror. He sinks in slowly, gentle love in his motion, hands on Tomas’ hips. When he can push in no further a smile spreads across his beautiful face. Tomas smiles back and sighs. “Go on…” he whispers.
Marcus begins to thrust, shallow at first, then longer and stronger stokes into his lover’s body. The pleasure is exquisite, intricate, physical and spiritual. Marcus feels immensely powerful and marvelously weak all at once. Toes curling against the carpet, he presses his fingers harder into the flesh of his partner’s hips.
Tomas begins to meet Marcus’ thrusts, his mouth open, breath hot and fast, leaving condensation on the mirror in front of him. He keeps his eyes on Marcus and watches as he comes apart. The taller man’s hands rub gently over Tomas’ back, roaming the dips and heights of bone and muscle. Marcus says nothing, keeping his eyes focused on Tomas’ in the mirror. Bending over, he presses his open mouth to Tomas’ spine as he rocks into him over and over and over. He gasps and murmurs his love in whispers. His legs begin to shake and he feels his climax right behind him. It coaxes him on, as a holy man and an animal, to claim the man beneath him. He thrusts harder, faster, more determined, a whine escaping his throat.
“Look at me when you come, mi amor,” Tomas whispers. Marcus raises up and meets Tomas’s eyes in the mirror again as pulsing white pleasure begins to roll over him in waves.
“Ah! Tomas! So good, baby! So! Fucking! Good!” Marcus slams into his lover and groans loudly, his face displaying intense pleasure as he comes deeply into Tomas. He sees something primal flit across Tomas’ eyes as he claims him. Breathing loudly, he pulls Tomas up to stand while he is still inside of him, still coming. He reaches around quickly and grasps the younger man’s cock, which is near purple and slick with precome. Stroking firmly and quickly, he watches Tomas in the mirror as he surrenders to his own orgasm. Milky white fluid runs over Marcus’ knuckles and shoots up onto Tomas’ belly. As his climax fades, Marcus bites down on his partner’s shoulder.
Tomas’ spins around and pulls Marcus into a tight embrace, his come sticky between them, their breath heaving, their bodies covered with a thin sheen of sweat. The curly haired man kisses Marcus with an open, wet mouth. They stand together, pulses slowing, heads reeling, skin against skin. Marcus cannot remember a time that he was ever this happy. In fact, he thinks perhaps he’s never experienced real happiness until this very moment. Contentment holds him in its grasp like an angel of mercy. This is what God wants for him, he knows it now entirely.
“Let’s get back into bed, darling,” Marcus croons. “Oh wait!” He runs over to the bathroom and comes back with a towel, placing it under Tomas in the bed as Tomas did for him the night before. He also brings a washcloth, which he gently uses to wipe the come from their stomachs and his own hand. Laying down next to Tomas, he smiles and lazily traces circles onto his skin. “Tomas, I don’t ever want this to end. I love you. I’m terrified,” Marcus painfully admits.
“I love you too. It doesn’t need to end. It won’t end. I’ve wanted you like this since we met and I’m never going back. I-I want to marry you. Marry me, Marcus.” The ex-priest inhales sharply and lays his head on Tomas’ chest. He feels the rise and fall of breath, hears every inhalation, the room crackling with anticipation. There is momentum in this space, in the now. Marcus sighs and lets it take him.
“Yes, yes I will.”
Marcus is sure he hears an angel sing.