Lust Never Sleeps

At Sawyer's words, Darryl turned toward him, perplexed. "We're catching a plane? Why?"

"I never said plane, love," Sawyer enigmatically responded, eyes fixed upon his sister. "You're not going to make me grovel, are you? Surely I've done more than enough atonement for the last time."

Sue snorted. "Not near enough, and you know it. Not if you were to say Hail Marys from now 'til kingdom come."

"Hardly worth my time, don't you think?" Sawyer's voice was smug, a cheeky grin affixed upon his pretty face. "When there are so many... better things... to do with it." He turned the full battery of his eyes upon the already sinking Darryl, who went down immediately, all hands lost. Happily.

"I know I've said it before, but this really is your last chance."

"Yes, dearest darling sister."

"Oh dear Sawyer, will you

please

pay attention?" Somehow the nun's words were spoken with less irritation than might have been the case, all things considered.

"I am, I am," he assured her. Darryl blushed under his close scrutiny.

"You know you can't fly at night."

"I'm well aware of that, sister of mine," Sawyer assured her. "We'll leave at first light. Or shortly thereafter." He poured more of the dark liquid into Darryl's glass, refilling his own as well. When Sister Sue tapped the stem of her glass lightly against her desk, he played bartender for her as well, before twining his arm with Darryl's once more.

"My turn to make the toast," he said in a sultry voice. "May the dreams that once were be remembered once more, and may this night be the first of many!"

They clinked their glasses together, caught up in one another's eyes, oblivious to all else.

Sue cleared her throat and rose, pushing her chair in as she did so. "Well, that's that. You know where your room is, brother, you hardly need me to tuck you in. At least do me the courtesy of telling me good-bye, will you, before you go?" She walked around the desk, adjusting her rosary beads as she did so. "In the meantime, I shall pray for both of your souls."

"Thank you," both men said at once.

At the door of her office, Sue turned and regarded them. "You know what they say, don't you? The best way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Only if you're a very bad surgeon," Sawyer cheekily commented. "I prefer a more southerly route myself." He leaned into Darryl and captured his lips, kissing him long and hard. By the time they came up for air, Sue was gone.

"How will we fly without a plane?" Darryl asked, although this was far from the first question in his mind. But it was the one he allowed himself to ask, priding himself on keeping his libido in check. More or less.

"Tomorrow, my sweet, tomorrow. We have other, more pressing matters tonight," Sawyer replied.

"What pressing matters?" Darryl tried to ask, but Sawyer's lips made further discussion unthinkable. And undesirable.

"Come, my love." Sawyer beckoned. The head-over-heels Darryl followed, without question, as they wound their way into the bowels of this seemingly infinite church, until they reached a chamber, which Sawyer unlocked.

This room was as elegantly furnished as the rest of the building. The largest and most conspicuous piece of furniture was a mahogany four-poster bed which sat in the center. There were mirrors on each wall, as well as upon the ceiling, the gilt frames edged in cherubs. Darryl was surprised to see a computer atop a roll-top desk—an incongruous note in a place that seemed otherwise wrapped in elegance.

"We're going to sleep?" he wondered aloud.

"We're going to bed. Not the same thing at all."

"But about tomorrow, shouldn't we—?" Darryl's words were stopped by Sawyer's lips. He surrendered to the blond's touch, the ache in his groin advising him not to worry about tomorrow, to live for tonight.

Somehow Sawyer managed to undress them both without disconnecting their lips—no mean feat in and of itself. The next thing Darryl knew, the bedding had been pulled back, and they were lying together upon the softest of sheets, naked, and fully entwined about one another.

Darryl was far from being a virgin—there was ample evidence of that on the Internet, much to his chagrin. He'd been with a fair number of lovers in his time. Lover being a relative term, for he'd given none of them his heart. But, on this night, he gave it gladly, and most willingly, to Sawyer Thomas.

"Kismet," Sawyer whispered, nibbling on Darryl's ear, his hand caressing Darryl's stiff cock. "Our kismet is to be together. You are the other end of my red string."

Darryl wasn't sure what he meant, but it didn't really matter at the moment. He ached to be taken, to be possessed by Sawyer. It was a primal need within him he hadn't known he possessed, but it was certainly making itself manifest now.

In one deft move, Sawyer slid Darryl beneath him, taking the upper hand. Brazenly he rubbed his own throbbing cock against Darryl's, which only served to drive him even crazier with lust.

"Lust never sleeps," Sawyer whispered, "and neither shall we. Not tonight, anyway."

He ran his hands along Darryl's long firm legs, before raising them to the level of his shoulders, burying himself deep in the heart of Darryl, eliciting a heartfelt cry of pleasure from him.

"Are you the one I've waited for, Darryl? My chosen one?" Sawyer mumbled to himself. He filled Darryl's being with every thrust of his willing cock, dancing to the rhythm of the music in their hearts. He felt his partner's climax approaching, as well as his own. Now was the time.

"Heart's fire, eternal love, show to me a sign from above..."

They cried out in mutual orgasms, as suddenly the bed was suffused with a brilliant red glow.

Sawyer smiled triumphantly.