Silas had lips the color of cotton candy and they were just as sweet. A goatee framed them. On him it was very Dionysian indeed, for Silas' hair was glossy black. Logan had his tongue thrust between Silas' lips, and he was crotch to crotch with Silas, trembling on the edge of mating--this time not in Unshocked, their favorite club, but in Logan's bedroom.
Untrue. They were in
their
bedroom. As of today, Logan no longer soloed. Silas' clothing now lived in Logan's closets, not too alien a sight since Silas had spent many weekends here before he moved in. Some photos of Silas' buddies from back home sat uneasily on the nightstand, unsure of their new and queer home. As well as the picture of the cute blond surfer they'd picked up in Key West. A quaintly queer memento of their first threesome. The videotape of that encounter was shelved beneath the big screen in the living room.
The bed was indeed theirs. They had picked it out together last weekend. It now awaited them like a desert waits for the gods to breathe life into it. That divine breath would come tonight--very soon. Logan needed this.
Logan's arms encircled Silas' bare torso and cupped his hard buttocks. Their bodies swayed, remembering the sexy trance beats that Unshocked's spinmaster had delivered. Silas' long, slender cock throbbed through his jeans against Logan's. Nothing surpassed being crotch to crotch with Silas. Watching each other's back, they were a fortress.
I don't want anything else but this
, he thought.
Forever
.
They had been hard for each other all night, grinding and writhing together in Unshocked's chaotic lightshow, riding each other and the music. It had been not merely good music but great music, and Logan had responded on the sexual level. His briefs were soaked with precum and dangerously stretched from his own godlike endowment. Silas, having gone commando, had raised a tent no Baptist revival would ever be held under. Though his endowment was nowhere near as monstrous as Logan's, Silas attracted looks in many other ways.
Silas broke the kiss, pulling away. He stared intently back at Logan. Over his eyes arched eyebrows thick and prominent, but there was no air of the Neanderthal to him. Gold dust had been strewn across his brown irises, and the sclerae were luminous against his maplewood-colored skin.
"You're here," whispered Logan, aching. "Finally."
"Finally," breathes Silas. He began to unbutton Logan's silk shirt.
"Gunter looked disappointed," said Logan. A disappointed Gunter was a rarity. Gunter was the short, muscled, blond buzz-cut bartender down at Unshocked. Logan knew him to be donkey-pronged, to have an eminently fuckable ass, to burn with an incredible libido, and to give away lots of good, fun drugs. Tonight, on this greatest of great nights, Gunter had seen the two dancing and, as he said, been
enthused
. So he had showered them with free booze, and provided two joints and a bottle of Blue Boy poppers. Not too long before they left he made an indecently immodest proposal. Any other night Silas and Logan would have taken him up on it. But tonight, they had looked at each other ruefully, and in a fit of conventionality decided that, no, it was more important that this night be theirs.
"We'll take care of Gunter later," said Silas, grinning. His fingers danced on Logan's nipples.
Logan's cock surged and throbbed. He quickly stripped. He had been horny too long for much foreplay. Things were moving towards an...inevitability. But they weren't there yet, and Logan needed to make it happen, before the moment dissolved in the acid that was life.
Then Silas was naked in Logan's arms, and he deftly guided that ex-running back into their bed. Logan laid on his back, Silas a pleasant weight on top of him. His fingers roamed the thick, coarse hair on Silas's thigh. Their limbs entwined and their lingual affinity resumed.
Through the window streamed the city's light, lurid on the underbellies of the gravid clouds hanging above. A grayish-orange glow drenched the shopping promenade across the river, while beyond the towers of the business district grew like a forest of steel-and-glass prisms. The glow enaureoled Silas, transformed his silhouette into a presence so ethereal Logan's heart almost broke as he thought of how the convolutions of fate might have kept them from knowing each other.
Like a zephyr, Silas' kisses trailed down Logan's body...between his nipples, past his navel. He took Logan's fat nuts into his mouth, worshipped at the source of those massive loads which left condoms sloshing with spunk.
"Lick me."
Silas laved the heavy sack, his breath exploding in snorts against Logan's perineum. Logan let him work unimpeded until Silas, impatient too, moved his mouth to Logan's cockhead. That brought the inevitable explosion too close. He wanted to juice later, and that made it imperative that Silas pay more attention to his shaft and stop tonguing his plum-colored head. Gently, Logan took Silas' skull between his palms and guided his throat down his shaft. Silas murmured contentedly; he knew what Logan needed.
Silas used to live in some hick town, overrun with Walmarts and Autozones now that the combined efforts of FDR and LBJ were consigned to the History Channel's fervid documentaries. Fortune, by cleverly denying Logan a directional sense, had brought him there; he had left the interstate looking for food, turned right instead of left or something of the sort, and unexpectedly encountered a kamikaze deer, which sacrificed itself for Artemis on the grill of Logan's Navigator. Silas had been a grease monkey in the body shop where the AAA tow truck brought Logan's bloodied SUV. For Logan it had been lust at first sight, always a good sign of something long-term. Conversation had proven easy. Logan had a thing for football players--he was irresistibly drawn, and it had led to trouble. But not this time. Logan's eye fell upon a photo, pinned to a corkboard on his workbench, of Silas as a running back on his high school team. His orange jersey had blazed the number 7 as if it was the length of his cock. Logan made no secret of being gay. Within two hours Silas had a mouth full of Logan's jism, a phone number, and a standing invitation.
Silas slid Logan's rod into his velvety throat. Logan sighed and prayed that, in surrendering to this extended blowjob, he hadn't blown the buttfucking. Silas' throat moved on his cock, and his tongue slithered along Logan's pulsing urethra. He ground his pubic hair against Silas' face, thrusting. Spit made sloppy his thick pubic snatch. Logan fought the urge to surrender to the ultimate pleasure, his fingers curling in Silas' hair and setting the pace to something low-gear.
If it had been any other night, Logan would have replayed over and over again that scene in the body shop's restroom and enjoyed this blowjob as long as Eros permitted. Perhaps he even would have asked Silas to put on his jersey and his jockstrap and service him.
Not right. Not for this tonight. This is just Silas and me
.
He pulled Silas off, rolled him over onto his back.
"Good boy," he breathed. The sapidity on his lips must be Silas' saliva. "Too fucking good. I gotta screw you.
Now
."
Silas lifted his head up. "About fucking time."
On the nightstand sat a half-used bottle of lube, which Logan tossed to Silas. Gunter's icy bottle of Blue Boy poppers, sweating in the night, followed. Logan tossed the bottle to Silas. He dug into the drawer and retrieved a packet of Trojan Magnums. It was between his teeth, unopened, when Silas, quiet, his eyes warm as beacons on a winter's night, touched his arm. Logan felt that a ghost had passed through the room, raising the wolf's hair on the back of his neck.
"Leave it off."
"You sure?" Precum oozed.
"Yeah. Do it raw," Silas pleaded. "We're together now."
His groin quivered in an electric, unearthly way he hadn't felt since he was a teenager lusting for a quarterback. His foreskin fully retracted, revealing an excitedly greasy head. A translucent droplet of dew dangled from his pisslips. "You
absolutely
sure?"
"Yeah," grinned Silas. "I'm absofuckinglutely sure."
So this is it. He knows it's me.
Logan lifted Silas' legs. The furry, hard-muscled calves on his shoulders were burdens he, a modern Sisyphus, was eager to bear. Silas' hand, dripping with lube, took Logan's prong and reverently slicked it up. Another dollop went onto Silas' bright pink and crinkled ring, a succulent meadow in a hairy valley.
Logan fought to restrain his balls, quaking with bursting energy, as he pressed his cockhead into the sweaty asscrack. He felt fertile, brimming with life and energy. He wanted to do nothing more than pour gallons of his juice--his potency, his reason for existence--into Silas. His heart hammered, and the beautiful black-haired vision shimmered below him as if distorted by a desert's heat.
Fortune presents gifts not according to the books.
What enigmatic voice had pronounced those words Logan could not recall, but he did remember them, and thought about them often. It was rare and awesome--in the ancient sense of the word, when it was used only when something of the immortal and transcendent manifested itself in the mournful and decaying world--to have someone like Silas. Few things mattered to Logan, but Silas was definitely a thing that mattered very much. Had Logan waited to take the next exit of that interstate, or turned right instead of left, Silas would have been to Logan a poem forever unread, and the joy of this merger would have been something that Logan could only suspect could exist, could never have actually known. Each of them opened doors within each other that had been shut for years. Logan had stayed away from non-scene fags for years, because once he had met a hunky quarterback at a college bar, and had suffered a broken nose after misjudging the amount of Jagermeister the jock had consumed and making an indecently immodest proposal. Silas had defrosted old fears, reminded Logan that his world existed inside a larger world, like those Russian dolls that nest one inside the other.
What am I to him?
No need to ask Silas that. Logan
knew
. Logan had found in Silas some ungerminated seeds of curiosity, immune miraculously to the pesticide of schools, and he took Silas places where those seeds had blossomed. Silas had learned there was a larger world, and he showed his gratitude every time they made love.
