The Worst Days Ch. 2.3

At risk of biasing you against reading what I'm putting on this blog (for reading), let's just say that while you read I will be offering sacrifices to the gods of Grammar, Spelling, and Turns of Phrase, for I have sinned gravely. To read the part 2.2 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.

By the time we reached the estate I was in real pain. Adrenaline blocks out the effects of most blows while it overtakes one's brain, but when it's gone it leaves the body in a world of hurt. Fen noticed I was slow getting out of the hoverlimo.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked me.

I grimaced. "I don't think anything's broken, and I'm pretty sure I was never hit in the kidneys, but that crowd sure didn't pull its punches. I blame you for all of this."


"With reason," he said dryly. "There is a, um, what's the word for the bath with the water sprays inside?"

"Hot tub?" I suggested.

"Yes," he snapped his fingers. "A hot tub in my bathroom. You can use it. I need to do some work."

"I'll be fine, I just need some pain reliever," I protested, feeling my ribs.

"Go soak in the tub until you feel better," Fen instructed and he shoved me a little harder than necessary. "I'll have Mrs. Cupps put the shoes in your room." I had forgotten about the damn shoes. I assumed Mrs. Cupps was the housekeeper who I had not yet seen.

"You and your pushing. I can walk, you know," I grumbled, but I grabbed some clothes from my room and lumbered into Fen's bathroom, pleased (and a little weirded out) to see that the water had already been run and towels lain out.

Fen wasn't in sight, but I heard him call out, "The jets are on the bottom, too, so you can lie down. Get in, already." Nag.

I did, and nearly drowned when I feel asleep from the constant tattoo of the jets on my back. I was slow getting out, and gingerly realized that I was still sore from my physical activities earlier in the day. I shrugged into the loose t-shirt and cotton pants I had set out for myself, and opted to freeball when I realized I had forgotten underwear. When I came out of the bathroom I noticed that the balcony door was open, and I peered through it to see Fen in a hammock. His hair was wind-ruffled and his shirt lay partly open, exposing a torso that would have landed him a modeling contract in Lomagnia. He looked like a creation of the setting sun, and something fluttered in my stomach when he turned his head to me.

"Come here," he said softly. His eyes were grey whirlpools beneath his dark lashes.

The buzz slid into a languid hum that wrapped warm fingers around my common sense and squashed it. I padded over to the hammock and let Fen pull me into it with him, almost tipping us both out in the process. He wrapped his arms around me and tangled his legs in mine.

"I don't know why I'm even near you," I murmured, telling myself not to smell him.

I felt his chuckle through my nose, which was buried into his throat. "Well, in that case I think I like you better confused," he responded. On of his hands was stroking along my ribs, occasionally dipping down to my navel.

We lay there in silence while the wind rocked the hammock and stirred our hair. It was pleasant. It was better than pleasant; it felt wonderful. I was suffused with warmth, and Fen's hand running across my muscles was relaxing and sensual. I almost fell asleep again.

"Comfortable?" Fen asked me.

I barely mustered an "Mm?" when I realized I was nuzzling his neck and had my right hand tucked up under his shirt, feeling his heartbeat through my palm.

"Er, guess I was thinking about Juniper," I stammered, turning red.

"You like to stroke your wife's penis when you cuddle?" he asked wryly, extracting my other hand from where it had wrapped itself around a burgeoning erection.

My mouth gaped open, and I stared at my offending appendage. "I—" I couldn't even finish my sentence. All my neurons halted, save for a select few that were burning the impression of Fen's proportionately massive dick in my palm. I tried again. "What?"

Fen laughed and toppled us both out of the hammock. "I would remind you of what you told me about your sexuality, but that would just be cruel." He pulled me to standing, then led me by the hand into the bedroom.

My brain was still trying to resume function and my heart was beating hard enough I could hear it. My mouth was dry. That hum, that painfully delicious warm murmur that swept over my defenses and tickled my stomach, was storming through my body, and Fen's eyes were the moons that pulled those crashing waves to high tide. I needed to be touched; I craved skin-to-skin contact so badly it ached.What am I doing? I asked myself.

"You're going to touch me, at your leisure," Fen informed me. Apparently when that humming got going my private speech slipped past that barrier that was supposed to keep it in my head.

"I'm, ah," I swallowed. "I'm what?"

Fen pulled his shirt off and tugged mine up over my head. His brows furrowed when he saw my new battle scars. "Oh," he breathed, and began whispering his lips across the livid bruises and scratches I had recently acquired. I stared at the door and wondered why I wasn't running through it. I wasn't naked this time, and I had running shoes.

All thought halted completely when Fen brushed his tongue across my left nipple, right over my pounding heart. I couldn't halt the throaty moan that poured from my chest, and I dimly registered the fact that I had thrown my head back and was clutching Fen to me has he lazily tongued one nipple, then the other, then back again. I was raging hard in my loose pants, and I couldn't decide whether or not I was ready to beg him to touch me.

Fen pulled me down on the bed on top of him, and I fell groin to groin over him. His hands were running up and down my sides, and I levered myself on my arms and looked at his torso. He had what looked like claw marks on either side of his lower abdomen, the only physical mar on the expanse of golden skin and muscle. The light hair on his chest and abdomen was blond, and I knew there was something off about that, but the analytical part of my brain was shut off for the moment.

I could feel a cottoned erection underneath my own, and I rocked on it experimentally. Fen threw his head back into the pillow and groaned. I grinned and did it again, enjoying the lightning that fissioned through us both. The next time I did it Fen latched onto my nipples with his thumbs and forefingers and pulled. I jerked and gasped like a fish out of water.

Fen rolled us over and stretched his hand into my pants and stroked the tip of my cock with a feathery touch.

My hands fisted in the sheets. "Fen," I breathed, "I shouldn't let you do this."

He dipped his head and lipped my earlobe. I shivered. "I could stop, if you prefer," he suggested, trailing open-mouth kisses under my jaw.

"I'd murder you," I responded, and I felt him smile against my neck.

"Well, if you'd kill me for stopping, might I suggest you encourage me to continue?" Fen proposed in the middle of scraping his teeth along my jugular.

I rolled us back over and straddled him, pinning his hands above his head. His lazy, concupiscent, half-lidded look made my dick lurch. He already looked well-sexed; I wondered what he looked like when he was completely satisfied. I decided to find out. I ran my hand down his torso, liking the way he squirmed when my fingers bumped over his abdominals, and then dipped my hand into his trousers. He arched to meet me, and for the first time in my life I wrapped my hand around a manhood not my own.

A strangled groan erupted from Fen's throat as I squeezed my fingers around his girth. I shuffled down on his body so that I could stroke him more fully, wishing there was less cloth between us but not wanting to take my hands off him, and bent my head to his peanut-butter cookie-colored nipples. They felt differently than I thought they would, pebbling under my tongue and growing taut between my teeth, but so soft I almost tried to chew on them.

Fen was breathing heavily, emitting short "Ah"s every time my fingertips played over the head of his inflamed member. Enough with the pants, I thought. They were hindering my progress, whatever that progress happened to be. A brief meander into gaydom, I supposed. It felt good enough that I wasn't turning back any time soon. I pulled the waist of his pants over his erection and tugged; Fen got the idea and raised his hips to help me out. Before the clothing hit the floor I was wrapped around him, burying my tongue in his navel and using both hands to titillate his length.

Fen raised himself up on his elbows and watched me through slitted eyes. I knew he wanted something more that he was reluctant to request, for fear of sending me running for the door. Logically speaking, I should have been running when he had invited me to share the hammock, but I was ignoring that part of my mind at the moment. Illogically speaking, I wanted to swallow him into me, to absorb him and let him fill the empty parts inside and spill out my pores.

The hum pulled my mouth lower, and I followed that sensual saturation down to the base of Fen's smooth curving penis and wrapped my mouth around him there. His sharp inhalation drew that hum with it, and I moved my mouth slowly to the head, so slowly, and he breathed my name and tangled his fingers in my short hair. My hands never stopped moving; it was as if that first caress out on the balcony had infected them with a desire to memorize every centimeter of soft skin that stretched over hard arousal.

I didn't think, I couldn't think; I was at the mercy of the pervading sensation that began at the top of my spine and sped through my veins, the heat that shot from my toes to my groin to my tongue, and I slid my lips around the head of Fen's cock and lightly scraped my teeth over him. He shuddered and groaned my name. I wiggled my tongue into the slit and sucked gently, my right hand drawing upward at the same time while the other caressed the globes hanging beneath.

My lips moved south, his cock sliding back farther into my mouth. White heat encircled my head and pressed against my eyes, and the afternoon sun slicked my body with perspiration.

"Tam," Fen groaned. "Tam, I'm going, oh fuck—" here he collapsed back onto the bed and began cursing lividly in Nitkan, then Lomagnian, then a couple languages I didn't recognize, but the mantra seemed to be small variations on "oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," repeat in another language.

My own mantra was a whispered what am I doing, what am I doing that was near-silenced by the hot light that swelled inside me.

I swooped back up to the head up his cock and pulled with my mouth, rolling his sac in my fingers. They tightened and Fen surged into my mouth. His hands clasped either side of my head and held me tightly as his pelvis jerked. I didn't stop my ministrations, and Fen splashed over my tongue and into my throat.

When Fen had stopped convulsing I let him slip out of my mouth and flopped on the bed beside him. That well-sexed look had been replaced by something that was closer to "ravished." He looked deflated, utterly wasted, and completely sated. The sun streaming through the windows pitched soft shadows across his angles and planes. His eyes were shut and his mouth turned up at the corners.

"I can't believe I just did that," I said, my voice low.