A New Taste on the Tongue

A New Taste on the Tongue

Chapter 7: So much for slow.

George turned at his own front door, keys in hand. John was gorgeous, and warm, and so . . . close. And getting closer. But not close enough. George thought back to the second half of dinner when he’d clutched John’s hand, wanting so much more. And now there those lips were, mere inches from his own. //I’m not gay . . . I’m just George’s.//

It was just too much. Curving a hand behind John’s neck, he pulled that mouth closer. “John, I . . . ” George couldn’t say it, but the low groan in his voice said need as well as any words could have. John’s lips responding so eagerly to his seemed to say he heard it. Resting one hand on John’s chest, he desperately deepened the kiss, pulling him closer by the tie and groaning at the heat building between them. “John,”

“George . . . hmm.” John treasured the skilled battle of tongues eager to taste and savor, his hands just as urgently sampling the heat of George’s back.

The distance between them closed slowly until they touched from chest to thighs, sending an electric shock through two sets of nerves, making hands clench and arms tighten.

George felt the door against his back as John pressed every inch of that beautiful body harder against his. It was way too much. The feel of John’s erection pressing into his hip was simply overwhelming. John wanted him and the knowledge made slow move farther and farther out of his grasp. “John,” Reluctantly pulling out of the kiss, George immediately missed the touch of those lips against his own. “Wait, John.” He put a hand on John’s chest to stop his automatic forward movement. “We should stop.”

“Why?” John smiled leaning closer, pressing hard against the hand on his chest and resting one hand on the door behind George’s head. “Why should we stop?”

“Because if I keep touching you, if I kiss you again – slow will be the farthest thing from my mind. I don’t want to push you.” His voice deepened slightly at the sexual smile on John’s face, the muscles in his arm relaxing, letting John slowly close the distance.

“You’re not pushing, George.” John plucked the keys out of George’s hand, staying pressed close as one hand moved to open the door. With a twist of his wrist, he turned the key and knob, his eyes never straying from George’s face. “I don’t want to stop. I want more of this. I want you.” Raising one hand to George’s cheek, John rubbed a thumb across the lips he was fast becoming addicted to, coming to a decision. It was time to feel, not think. “I like how this feels.” He pressed closer along George’s body, groaning deep in his throat. “I want to feel more of this, of you.”

Something inside George crumbled, a wall, a line of self-restraint. “Are you sure, John?” The ruins of his control were as shaky as his voice.

“Yes,” It was too much. The low, rough and certain tone of John’s answer pushed him over the edge, dragged down the last crumbs of hesitation in George.


“Oh, John,” Fisting a hand in his hair, George jerked that mouth against his, hungrily invading it with his tongue and pushing the door open behind him. Stepping backwards into the apartment, he pulled John with him by the urgency of the kiss and a firm grip on his tie.

“George,” Breaking the kiss, John pushed the door shut and reached for George. “I need to touch you.” Swiftly unknotting the tie, he set agile fingers to the task of unbuttoning George’s shirt. “I forgot to tell you earlier. Love that shirt . . . now take it off.” John’s voice was deeper and raspier than George had ever heard it. Not to mention that it was whispered only inches from his own lips. Impatient, John pushed the shirt away himself, running eager hands over that chest and arms. “George, this feels so . . . ” He couldn’t find quite the right word and instead pressed George’s lips under his own, trying to put everything he needed to say into this kiss and the caress of his hands over skin.

And it worked. “God, John, I have to touch you.” Brushing a kiss over his lips, George shoved the coat off his shoulders and moved his hands to the buttons hiding that chest from his eyes, his hands, his lips. “John, hmmm.” Fingers more agile than they’d ever been at a keyboard stripped John of his shirt and tie, a groan escaping his lips at the feel of warm skin and sparse hair under his hands. John, beautiful John, George’s John was half naked in his livingroom. It took his breath away. “John . . . simply gorgeous.”

John’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the heat in George’s eyes, the stroke of those great hands over his skin. “George, please.” George might have asked ‘please what’ but he didn’t have the chance, or the breath. John wrapped both arms around him, dragging him close and resting his forehead against George’s, pressed skin to skin from the waist up.

“Oh... yes,”

George honestly couldn’t tell whose lips that breathless groan had come from for every nerve in his entire body was paying attention only to skin. The lean strength of John’s arms around him. The faint tickle of chest hair against his skin. The smooth heat of John’s back against his palms and forearms. Right now all George was capable of was clutching John closer and fighting to breathe.

John seemed similarly affected, leaning heavily into George’s arms. But a few more of his muscles seemed to still be receiving signals from his brain than George’s, with reason. John had been thinking about what he wanted to do with George for days, despite his efforts to not think. That was why part of him had insisted on going out to dinner, the images of this, of George in his arms, had been too clear, too perfect, too inviting. And there was no way he was going to let an opportunity like this pass without taking full advantage of it. “George,” Tilting George’s chin up, John ran his lips down the line of his throat, reveling in the taste of his skin and the feel of hands clenching against his shoulders. The sounds George was making weren’t bad either as John dipped the tip of his tongue against one hardened nipple. Groaning deep in his throat at the taste of George under his tongue and the small sound escaping him, John clenched his own hands on George’s hips, pulling him closer and continuing the exploration of his mouth over skin.


George felt his knees go weak as John’s hit the carpet in front of him. “John,” Oh god, that mouth on his skin seemed to find each individual nerve and tease it to heightened awareness. A low groan forced its way past his lips as he felt John’s hands sliding down his legs to slowly remove his shoes and socks. The naked skin under his hands and the stroke of a tongue just above his belt overwhelmed him. Catching the hand wandering up his hip, George tugged on it, pulling John to his feet and back against his body. “John... you feel so good.”

John opened eagerly to his kiss as George ran his hands over as much skin as he could reach, trying desperately to get closer. It stirred something very deep, very basic within John to feel the hard evidence of George’s desire pressed against him. To know George wanted him felt good, right. John loved knowing he could do this to George, loved hearing such need in his voice. Feeling the vibration of another of those beautiful groans against his skin, John wondered what else he could do to George, what other sounds would come from those delicious lips.

“George,” Sliding both hands down to George’s hips, John pulled him forward as he walked backwards to the couch. “I want to touch you.” Smiling at the groan brushing his lips, he guided George down onto the sofa with a lingering stroke of his fingers along his belt.

George felt the heart-felt groan pass his lips at the sound of John’s voice saying those words. Obeying the touch of those hands, he settled back into the cushions, his eyes glued to the look on John’s face. It was hungry, eager, caring with the edges of uncertainty–weak but there. George sank his nails into his palms as John sank to his knees in front of him. God, it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest at the sight before him. “John, you don’t have to...”

“I know,” He leaned up, sliding his hands up the hot skin of his chest and pulling George closer. “I want to, George. Kiss me.” Threading the fingers of one hand through his hair, he captured those lips with his own, reveling in the growing heat. “George,” Eagerly exploring George’s mouth with his own, John slid both hands along hard muscles to his belt, slowly unbuckling, unbuttoning, and unzipping George’s pants. A groan on his lips, he curled his fingers into the waistband and whispered. “Lift up a little, George.”

John locked his eyes on George’s face, taking in the bitten lip and the tightly closed eyes. This is what he could do to George; he could make every muscle in that beautiful body clench with need. As George’s hips lifted, John pulled his remaining clothes away, gasping at the sight. “Damn, George, you are gorgeous.”

George dug his hands into the cushion and kept his eyes closed. The sound of need and admiration in John’s voice was already stripping away his control; the sight of it in his face would be far too much. He couldn’t help letting out a muffled groan at John’s body between his legs, his hands stroking the skin of his thighs.

“George, open your eyes.”

George felt a hand on his cheek, a thumb brushing over his lips. Uncurling his hands from the couch fabric, he forced his eyes open to see stark need written all over John’s face.


“I wanna see those pretty brown eyes when I touch you the first time.” Smiling against his lips, John curled his fingers around his erection, his own eyes nearly falling closed at the feel of George in his hand. “George.” Weakly keeping his eyes open, he watched George bite his lip and arch his neck. “No, don’t.” John groaned, touching his free hand to those lips. “I wanna hear you. I wanna hear what I’m doing to you.” He traced the tips of his fingers along the length of George’s shaft, kissing the small sounds off his lips. “I wanna hear you call out my name.” John smiled at the way George’s groan matched the rasp in his own voice before running his lips down that beautiful neck and chest.

“Oh, John,” George found his hands desperately clutching John’s shoulders as his whole body arched involuntarily into the hands touching him so expertly. His hands moved to fist around the edge of the cushion as those lips delayed their trip south to tease and taste his nipples, all the while those hands unerringly stroked, caressed, and teased every ultra-sensitive spot on him, dragging all sorts of sounds from him, only some of them intelligible. “Oh, god, John.”

John pulled back, gazing at the grip of George’s hands on the couch, the arch of his back, the line of his throat as he gasped for breath. This was what he could do to George, but John wanted more. Smiling, he sank lower on his knees, staring at the hard length of George in his hands. Beautiful. Granted, it wasn’t a situation he’d ever expected to be in or a view he’d ever planned to appreciate so fully. But now that he was...here. Wrapping a hand around it, John leaned closer to kiss the tip of George’s erection, reveling in the salty taste on his tongue and George’s groans in his ears. Flicking the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves just behind the head, he thought about the times he’d been on the other end of this process. How good it had felt. How good he wanted it to be for George. “George,” Groaning low in his throat, John pulled George into his mouth.

“John,” God, John was humming. Could he possibly know how good it felt? How good the small vibrations thrumming along his whole body felt? “John, so good...please.” Completely forfeiting any and all control over his mouth and voice, George lost himself in the incredible sensation of John’s mouth around him, of that tongue stroking him, of the continuous groans sending little electric shocks over all his nerves. //Damn, how did John get so damn good at this?// George desperately balled his fists into the cushions, fighting not to reach for John and pull him closer, to thrust against that sweet mouth. He could hear the incoherent pleasured sounds spilling off his own lips and dug his hands harder into the couch. Damn, his grip was going to tear holes in the cloth before this was all over.

He sounded good. John leaned in closer and added a bit of variety to his technique only to hear the change in George’s voice. He hadn’t known this would feel so good. John hadn’t known he would like the taste and feel of George in his mouth so much. //God, George.// Groaning louder and hearing another voice rise in volume, John worked the tip of his tongue against the sensitive line along the underside, lightly pressing his teeth against skin. //That did it.// He watched George’s eyes clench and his back arch helplessly, hands digging even harder into the couch. Rubbing his own hands along George’s legs to the edge of the sofa, John pried those hands open and slid his own into George’s grip.

“Oh, John,” It was too much, simply overwhelming. George tightened his hands and felt his hips jump off the couch as pleasure swamped him, pulling John’s name from him in a shout.


The first sensation to make it through the haze surrounding George was the feel of John’s eyes on his face. That look, that expression poured heat through him, a heart-melting mixture of need, uncertainty and emotion just like the mix filling him. Freeing one hand, George touched his fingertips to John’s cheek, stroking his thumb over those beautiful lips. “John, that was...amazing, unbelievable.” Pulling on their joined hands, he tugged John up to his knees until his lips were a mere breath away. “God, your mouth...John.” Tilting John’s chin up, George took those lips in an eager kiss, reveling in the taste of himself in that mouth. Breaking away for a breath, he rested his forehead on John’s, breathing hard. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, John, I’m gonna make you yell my name.”

John’s eyes fell closed at the sound of his voice and he dragged George’s mouth hard against his own, wrapping both arms around him. “George...,” Groaning low in his chest, he felt George’s hands slide down his ribs to his belt.

“Stand up, John.” Hands intertwined, George pulled him to his feet and began to lead him down the hall. “I want you in my bed.” Guiding John to sit on the edge of the mattress, he sank to his knees in front of him, reaching down to remove shoes and socks. “I don’t think you know how hard it was all those nights to leave you asleep on the couch...so warm, so close...and come in here to sleep alone.” Warm hands moved to John’s belt, unfastening it and the pants beneath it. “Lift up,” George closed his eyes briefly at the deep rasp of his own voice, unable to deny just how much he wanted this.

John obeyed, feeling a shiver run the length of his body at the touch of George’s hands on the skin of his hips and the sound of his voice. The shivers seemed to follow the slow path of those hands down his legs. //God, those hands.// “George, please,” Sliding his hands over George’s shoulders, John leaned forward and reached for those lips with his own, pulling him closer.

Eagerly responding to his kiss, George touched one hand to John’s cheek, stroking the other up and down his thigh. Pressing their foreheads together, he groaned. “John, I dreamed of having you here. How you’d feel, how you’d taste.” George reveled in the strength of John’s reactions, the way his muscles tensed, the sounds he made. The feel of skin under his hands. “John,”

“I’m gonna go mad if you don’t touch me, George.” John rubbed his hands down George’s arms to stroke his fingertips over those hands. “I’ve dreamed of these hands on me...please.”

Never let it be said that George didn’t aim to please. He loved hearing the need burning in John’s voice, wondering just how his name would sound when shouted from those lips. Brushing his lips over John’s, George sent his hands on an exploration they’d been dying to go on. “John, you are so beautiful.” Trailing little nibbling kisses down his chest, George curled a hand around John’s erection, treasuring the hard length of him “God, John, I love knowing you want me this much. I love knowing I can do this to you.” He listened attentively to the groans on John’s lips, fine-tuning his caresses to the sound of his voice. Watching John’s hands fist in the sheets, George ran the tip of his tongue over the hard muscles of his lower stomach, savoring the taste of his skin.

“George...ah, please...George.”

George loved that, the way his voice sounded moaning his name. “John,” Watching the look on his face, he lowered his head and touched his lips to the tip of John’s shaft before enveloping the entire length of him in his mouth.

“Oh, gawd...George!” John’s hands clenched helplessly into the mattress as his back arched. The words were caught somewhere between extreme pain and unbearable pleasure and sounded like they were ripped from his throat. The moans were similarly ragged.


Raising his head, George pried John’s hands from the sheet and guided them to his face, kissing each palm. “Show me, John, show me how you want it. Show me how to make you feel good.” Bending his head, he hummed low in his throat and pulled John into his mouth, feeling John’s hands clench in his hair. He felt good, tasted good, sounded good. Following the guidance of those hands, George pulled out every trick in the book to hear that voice groan his name.

And call out his name, John did, groaning helplessly and clutching George closer. “Oh, god, George. You feel so ...ahh...” The breath left his body as George pulled him deeper into the wet heat of his mouth, skillful tongue and gentle teeth caressing him. //And I thought his hands were magic.// “Georgie,” Threading his fingers through his dark hair, John cradled George’s head in his hands, lost in the incredible sensation of that amazing mouth humming around him. “So good... George, please.”

Just a little more and he’d get that yell he wanted. George curled his body closer to John’s, slid his hands to the sides of his hips and relaxed the muscles of his throat, slowly taking John in to the hilt, still humming.

“George!” John’s hands clenched, his back hit the mattress, and his hips jumped off the bed, arching helplessly. “Please, George.” John felt his climax washing over him as George held the entire length of him in the heat of his mouth. “George!”

There was that shout he’d wanted. George raised his head to watch the pleasured expression overwhelming John’s face. God, this man was beautiful. And his. //I’m not gay...I’m just George’s all right.// He smiled, rising to his knees and stroking his hands over that beautiful chest. //So this man is mine, huh.// George watched those eyes slowly open and search for him. “Hey, John,”

“George,” cradling his face in his hands, John pulled George into a tender kiss. “Why didn’t I get drunk and kiss you sooner.” Tugging him onto the bed, John wrapped an arm around him, resting their foreheads together. “That was...I’ve never felt this good before, it’s never felt this right.”

“John,” George moved closer and responded with a sweet kiss. “So you told that girl...Tina? That you were mine. You know, ‘I’m not gay, I’m George’s’” The smile on his face clearly showed how deeply those words had touched him. “You’re mine. Am I yours?”

John let out a sharp laugh that sounded suspiciously like one of George’s. “God, George. The only way you’re getting ridding of me is kicking me out. And even then I’ll show up at your door until you let me back in. Yes, George, you’re mine...if you want me.”

“Damn, John. I want you.” Leaning closer, George breathed against John’s lips before pulling him in for an urgent kiss. “I want you.”

***