BRAVE NEW WORLD

BRAVE NEW WORLD

Harry was awakened by bright sunlight in his eyes and the sound of a distant siren. A slight movement in the room made him start, and he remembered in a rush most of what had happened the previous night.

Uncle Justin was dead, and Bob was alive. Somehow, he’d gotten Bob, as weak-kneed and wobbly as Harry himself was, away from the morgue and home to the apartment. They’d clung to each other, neither wanting to let go, both sure that Bob would disappear again if they did. They had fallen into an exhausted sleep, fully clothed, on Harry’s bed. At least, he’d assumed they’d both been sleeping.

Bob stood at the window, looking out. There was no telling how long he’d been there. He was still fully dressed, even down to his shoes. Harry rose from the bed and went up behind him. “Good morning.” He felt a slight shiver in the muscles beneath the hand on Bob’s shoulder.

“Dear Harry,” the beloved voice responded warmly, but distantly. He was definitely subdued.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, frowning a little. He didn’t know what sort of response he’d expected, but this wasn’t typical Bob. It was strange to be able to touch him at all, but to feel…what, exactly – fear? – beneath his hand was unnerving.

“Yes, I believe so. I’m just rather…shocked, at how different everything seems now. Brighter. Stronger. Louder,” Bob admitted, turning to Harry.

There was a confusion and timidity behind Bob’s normally flippant, all-knowing gaze that caused Harry’s heart to contract in sympathy. Bob hadn’t had a body for almost 600 years. Every one of his senses must be on overload.

“Well, it’s not like a lot of other people have gone through what you’re experiencing and there’s a guidebook or anything,” Harry replied, squeezing the shoulder gently. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“May I wash myself?” The melancholy, lost look on Bob’s face told Harry that he’d better take charge, and he’d better get it right the first time.

“Yeah, sure. Come over here and sit down on the bed,” Harry coaxed gently. “You can’t take a shower with your clothes on.”

Bob blinked. “We did, you know. Wash with our clothes on. Long ago.” He let Harry lead him to the bed, sitting when Harry pushed on his shoulders.

Bob’s odd disconnectedness alarmed Harry. He really did like things, and people, to be more or less predictable, and Bob’s predictability score had suddenly dipped to 2 on a scale of 10. You’re scarin’ me here, Mr. Necromancer.

Slowly, he began to undress Bob, who for the most part allowed him to do so as if he were a child’s rag doll, unresisting but unresponsive. When he got down to removing shirt and trousers, however, Bob began to shiver again.

“Do you want to leave your clothes on?” Harry asked softly.

“No,” Bob shook his head.

“What is it?”

“You, Harry,” Bob smiled slightly, abashed. He gazed into Harry’s eyes with a mixture of embarrassment, uncertainty, and desire.

Harry blushed crimson, and returned the smile. Thank you, all the Gods and Goddesses. He knew how he felt, but he’d never been absolutely sure that Bob wanted him in the way he wanted Bob. He knew they loved each other, but he hadn’t been positive that Bob’s love included desire until now.

“You cannot imagine how I have dreamed of you touching me; of us touching each other. And now that you are about to touch me, it’s….” Bob stopped, looking down.

“Frightening? Yeah, it’s scary as hell, isn’t it?,” Harry nodded. “You’re not the only one, Hrothbert.” He pressed his lips to Bob’s forehead, delighted by its warmth. He continued, feather-light, onto eyelids, cheeks, nose, and chastely, his mouth, soft and cool. Bob still trembled, but his sighs of happiness belied any evidence of real distress.

Want to kiss you all over, sweetheart, show you how much I love you.

Cupping Bob’s head in his hands, Harry carded his fingers softly through the thick white hair, stroking his jaw. Bob let his head fall forward against Harry’s chest, drinking in the smell of sweat and soap and Harry’s own magical essence. His breathing slowed.

“It’ll be okay, Bob. I don’t know what’s in the future but we’ll survive it - together,” Harry reassured him. “Nothing, and no one, is going to take you away from me.”

“You sound so sure of that,” Bob marveled, not used to hearing Harry speak definitively about much of anything.

“I am sure,” Harry returned confidently. He didn’t know where the sudden knowledge had come from, but it was there; he felt it within. He knew Bob needed to hear it, and saying it aloud only strengthened his conviction.

“Thank you, Harry,” Bob murmured, pressing his face against the battered green Henley.

“Any time,” Harry whispered, continuing to stroke the white head fondly. Bob would never say ‘I’m afraid, Harry’, ‘I need you, Harry’, or ‘Please help me’. He would just have to know when Bob needed him, and be there when he did. He was scared too, but the situation called for him to plunge in with both feet, so that’s what he was going to do. He didn’t have time to be afraid; Bob needed him.

After a moment, he ventured, “You still interested in taking that shower?”

“Oh yes,” Bob sighed, pulling back to sit on the bed again, clearly waiting for Harry to finish undressing him.

The mixed signals Bob wasn’t aware he was broadcasting were quite endearing, if frustrating. His hesitation shone an unexpected light on things Harry hadn’t considered before. Thinking about someone else first when it came to sex wasn’t something he’d had to worry about all that often. No blushing virgins for him, and when he’d been the blushing virgin or the sexy young stud, his lovers had catered to him. He should have thought of them with more fondness, he realized. They had cared about him, and how he felt. They’d wanted it to be good for him, so their own pleasure was secondary - and that wasn’t easy, as he was finding out. But this was Bob, and he would do whatever he needed to do to reassure and comfort him, even if it meant sticking his cock in a bucket of ice water.

You don’t just want to have hot monkey sex with him, you love him, and you want him to know that. So…show him, Harry. Read his body language. Give him what he needs.

Harry reached down to unbutton the black shirt, starting at the cuffs. Dark red scars encircled both of Bob’s wrists, looking angrier than they should for being several hundred years old. Bob made a move as if to hide them.

“Don’t,” Harry shook his head, frowning. He took both of Bob’s wrists in his hands, brought them together, and kissed the angry marks. Bob gasped as he laved the redness with his tongue like a cat, bathing it with love and magic. By the time he let go, the marks were visibly paler. Take that, Harry flung at those who had passed Bob’s sentence and carried it out. He’s mine now, you’ve lost him for good. He’s never going back, and wherever he goes, I go with him, got it?

Bob’s eyes widened, filling with tears unshed for many centuries. Not daring to speak, he could only gaze at Harry in mute gratitude.

Cool-as-a-cucumber Hrothbert of Bainbridge was hurt and lost, adrift in what he hadn’t expected would be a strange place. He was Bob’s only constant. If he let himself think of the responsibility, he might panic and freeze. But this wasn’t simply a situation; this was Bob. His Bob, who needed him. Harry didn’t remember that anyone had needed him for himself before, except his parents. Justin had needed his power, but didn’t give a damn about him. Bob had always cared, and had always been there, even when Harry hadn’t wanted to listen.

The buttons of the shirt itself came next; Harry pulled the garment down his shoulders and off. He sat on the bed, staring at the expanse of smooth, lightly freckled skin sparsely populated with gray curls. There were muscles, and curves. Beautiful, and sexy.

He let his hands settle on Bob’s shoulders, kneading very gently, then caressing his arms, inch by inch, soaking up the new old life he felt beneath his fingers like a sponge. Bob’s eyes were closed, his breathing audible. Harry wished he knew what Bob was thinking and feeling, but then, maybe Bob didn’t know either.

By the time he moved to Bob’s chest, he was shaking harder than Bob had been. He focused on being loving rather than sexual. Slow and steady wins the race, Harry my lad. He needs to feel safe with you, and you need to get used to making him feel safe. There’s going to be a time of exploration, and it should be good for both of us.

“My turn,” he murmured, very gently pushing Bob back on the bed. He stretched out, laying his head on Bob’s shoulder, fingers moving lightly along his collarbone. He felt as well as heard Bob’s sigh of contentment. They lay for several minutes, Harry lulled by the sound of Bob’s strong, steady heartbeat. Just lying together, touching, knowing it was real, made his heart sing. Bob kissed the top of his head; he kissed any part of Bob he could reach. Neither of them had more words for what they were feeling just then. If they hadn’t moved the rest of the day, they would have had all the sustenance either needed.

But eventually, Harry rose on one elbow and cocked an eyebrow.

“Shall we go for the whole enchilada?” he asked, indicating Bob’s trousers. Bob snorted.

“Trust you to make me laugh at the most inappropriate times, Harry Dresden,” he shook his head with a fond smile. “Be my guest.”

Breathless, Harry unbuttoned and unzipped. Unbidden, Bob raised his hips and Harry slid both trousers and undergarments off. He was met by long, slim but well-muscled thighs that tapered down to firm calves and neat ankles. Daring to let himself look on what lay between those thighs, Harry moaned aloud. Did every person, man or woman, think that their lover’s, or would-be lover’s body was perfect? Probably. It’s just that Bob was perfect. His cock was slightly longer and rather thicker than Harry’s. Pale, yet darker than the rest of him; a breathtaking rose. Uncut, of course. Harry’d had some experience with that, but suddenly wished he’d had a lot more. There was no sign of arousal; rather, Bob gave the impression of being afraid to move. Back off Dresden, he’s feeling every single touch times ten, and trying not to let on. The best blow job in the universe would probably hurt like hell right now.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry smiled, resting a hand on his hip. Bob shook his head.

“I am most certainly not,” he returned, “but you - not only your body, but your heart, Harry. Your patience is formidable, and much appreciated. This spirit has always been willing to love you, but it is taking some time to become accustomed to its flesh,” he sighed. Your kindness is very precious to me,” he told Harry.

“Ah, Bob - ” Tears welled in Harry’s eyes.

“Let’s do that ‘shower’, or whatever it is, shall we?” Bob suggested gently.

“Right. Well, I’d better get my own clothes off, and then we need to go downstairs.” Awkwardly, feeling like a gawky, clumsy adolescent, Harry pulled the Henley off over his head , quickly unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them. Without looking at Bob, he pulled his briefs off and tossed them on top of the rest of his clothes. When he turned back, he was stunned by the impact of Bob’s stare.

“Oh god. Please…try not to look at me like that, or touch me right now, or I’ll go off like a rocket,” he pleaded. He’d dreamed of Bob looking at him just like that, but he had to stay in control of himself, and the want in Bob’s eyes could very easily undo him.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Bob wondered, a hint of the old mocking tease in his voice.

“Ordinarily, no, but right now it’s about you, okay?” Harry answered, his voice soft but firm, pulling a bathrobe out of the pile of clothes on the floor of his closet.

“Stubborn,” Bob shook his head.

“Yep. Come on,” he grinned, indicating that Bob should follow him, down the stairs and into the bathroom. “You – sit,” he instructed, handing him the bathrobe and pushing him down on the toilet seat. He leaned in the shower to turn on the water, then turned back to Bob. “You don’t have to…uh…do you?” he fumbled, vaguely indicating the ‘throne’ on which Bob sat.

“I haven’t had food or drink for more than 600 years, Harry. I fear that’s going to take a while,” Bob informed him, “and I’m not particularly looking forward to it.” Harry shook his head, grinning.

“You’re too much, you know that? Come on, in here.” Unsure again, and hesitant, Bob cautiously followed him into the shower. Harry set the temperature so that it was only just more than lukewarm, and the flow was medium. Since he was always getting banged up, one of his few extravagances had been investing in one of the big showerheads that rained down from above, to pound the pain out of his body when aspirin wouldn’t cut it.

The look of pure bliss on his face when Bob stepped into the stream was reward enough for Harry for a dozen lifetimes. Eyes closed, he stood, letting the water wash over him.

“Ahhh.” He groaned with pleasure, turning his face up to the spray. “Harry, thank you for this,” he sighed.

For several long minutes, Harry watched him enjoy the new experience. Finally, he couldn’t stand it any more. He needed to hold him, needed to feel him in his arms. He pulled Bob back against him gently.

“Do you want it harder, or warmer?” he asked, waiting for him to say something sarcastic, but instead he only heard -

“Yess.” Bob was still lost in the exquisite peace of the warm, non-threatening water sluicing down his body. Of all the things to feel again, after so long, this was the most incredible….

One-handed, Harry adjusted the flow and temperature of the water. As the minutes went by, he could feel the tension begin to bleed from tense muscles as Bob relaxed against him. The pale skin assumed a more rosy appearance. Thank the Gods.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Very,” Bob sighed, turning to face him, eyes incredibly soft, warm and loving. A lump came up into Harry’s throat. This was the face of Bob he had dreamed about and hoped for without realizing it. Unconsciously, he’d wondered if it was in Bob to love like that; now he knew.

“Lean back, Master Hrothbert,” he coaxed, guiding Bob so that his back was against the wall of the shower. He picked up the soap and began moving it slowly over Bob’s body. He followed along after the soap with his hands, covered in rich suds. Overwhelmed by feelings of tenderness, he washed every inch of the man before him. Ears, neck, under his arms, down sensitive flanks. Across his chest and over his stomach. Kneeling, he soaped Bob’s cock, balls and perineum with loving care. Down his legs, washing between the toes and the soles of the feet.

I hope you can feel the love. I don’t want to overwhelm you, or frighten you, but I want you to know.

Bob whimpered and moaned softly, awash in Harry’s care and the healing water. Harry soaped his hair, massaging his scalp, daring to knead a little harder. A soft, happy “ohh,” escaped his lips. His back was washed with slow, caressing strokes. Between his cheeks and between his legs, gentle fingers soothed and cleansed him, half-brother, half-lover.

When all the soap was gone down the drain, Bob’s pale eyes looked into Harry’s dark ones.

“I thought…I couldn’t love you more than I already did, but I was wrong. No one has done such a thing for me since I was a very small…boy,” Bob hiccoughed. He pressed his head against Harry’s neck, weeping bitter tears for the child and then the man he had once been, for the mistakes he had made, and for the fortune and the mercy that had brought Harry into his life and let Harry love him. Harry simply held him, stroking his back, shushing him, telling him the past was the past, and he would have a new life now. He’d never wanted to believe anything more.

After a time, Bob became aware that his genitals were pressed against Harry’s, and that the feeling was not unpleasant. Experimenting, he moved against Harry, and found that it felt good. Very good. Harry had apparently noticed this turn of events, and his hands moved to cup Bob’s ass, pressing them closer together. Shyly, Bob reciprocated. They rocked together silently, time standing still, until Harry shivered, and realized that the hot water had long since run out.

“Shall we go upstairs?”

Bob murmured an assent, but didn’t move from under his chin. Harry turned off the water, guiding Bob out of the shower. He pulled the hooded bathrobe on, snuggling him in the soft warmth, drying his hair. Bob groaned, pressing his face against Harry’s abs, hugging tightly.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry sighed, hugging back. He wrapped a towel around his hips and shepherded Bob back upstairs, turning on the heater as they passed it. He probably didn’t know what it was like to be truly warm, considering the state of heating and fireplaces the last time he experienced them.

Both of them lay on the bed, hesitant to do more than devour each other with their eyes, until Harry leaned in and kissed Bob softly on his mouth, which opened willingly to him. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss, hoping to comfort and arouse at the same time, if possible. He tasted, delicately, and wonder of wonders, Bob reciprocated, eyes truly alight with desire for the first time.

“Yes, Harry,” Bob breathed against his lips, “yes. But please, go slowly,” he added.

“As slow as you need,” Harry assured him, pushing the robe off his shoulders, caressing and stroking his arms as he dipped to the now-hungry mouth again and again, slow but deeply intimate, with increasing intensity. Bob began returning the kisses with enthusiasm, shy at first and then, suddenly, not. It was as if once he determined that sensation wasn’t going to overwhelm him, he became confident in asking for more.

Each kiss brought a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl, deep in Bob’s throat, that was making Harry crazy. He brought his mouth down to a pale nipple, wetting it, circling it lightly with his tongue, teasing the other with his thumb. A brief frown passed over Bob’s features, but it was followed immediately by a choked sound of undeniable pleasure so he continued, gradually increasing the pressure until Bob was positively squirming beneath him, holding his head close for more. With pleasure, love.

Encouraged, but reluctantly deciding that it was probably not a good idea to overstimulate any one area of Bob’s still extrasensitive body at this point, Harry moved down, kissing and licking the soft skin of his belly. Bob sighed as Harry nosed his pubic hair, inhaling the pungent musk as if it were the costliest perfume. ‘Essence of Bob’. He would find a way to bottle it, for himself alone.

He teased softly through the gray, white and brown curls with his fingers, following with his mouth. Bob gasped sharply, reflexively thrusting upward. His cock was showing signs of life; Harry hoped it felt like receiving some attention, because he was getting pretty hot and bothered, and it was getting harder and harder to hold back from the normal course of events.

He grasped the treasure loosely in his hand, pressing it against his cheek, rubbing it over his face, feeling himself become even harder as he did so. He licked slowly from base to tip, briefly flicking his tongue over the dark glans. He knew better than to slide the foreskin back and make direct contact at this point; not until Bob had become accustomed to a lot more sensation than he was able to accept right now. He cradled the scrotum in his palm, lightly stretching and stroking

Bob whimpered at the intimate contact, clutching at him, now craving the pleasure. His soft growls of want teased Harry, along with the physical frustration he was feeling. Eager and playful, he rolled over so that his body covered Bob’s, holding his arms above his head, his tongue invading without thinking about what he was doing.

He literally felt Bob turn to stone beneath him, going absolutely still.

“Get off.” Bob’s tone held no anger, only thinly-veiled panic. Harry hastily scrambled away from him.

“Oh Bob, I’m so sorry,” he moaned, wanting to comfort but afraid to touch. “I’m stupid. STUPID! DAMMIT!”

Bob’s chest rose and fell in spasming gasps for a minute or two, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. He reached out and grasped Harry’s hand very firmly.

“Please Harry, don’t blame yourself for any of this. How could you know what might trigger bad memories for me when I don’t know myself? Nothing is your fault, how could it be? I don’t fear you Harry, only the dark memories. I suspect they will largely fade the more we are together. The more we do exactly what we have been doing…what you have been doing. You are dealing with my unexpected difficulty with an insight and tenderness that warms my heart. You couldn’t be doing anything better for me, and you must believe that. It’s I who am sorry, putting you through this,” he sighed. He spoke rapidly, without pause, to keep Harry from continuing to berate himself. He was already dealing with the shame he felt that his past was intruding so strongly into this bright present; he couldn’t bear Harry feeling guilty about it as well.

“I love you,” Harry murmured against his temple, kissing him softly, rubbing his back.

“Believe me, Harry, I know that, even if I know little else of this strange new world I find myself in,” Bob assured him. “And I have been enjoying myself, have no doubts about that,” he smiled, kissing the palm that stroked him.

“What we were doing in the shower, before we came upstairs – you liked that. Do you want to try again?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes,” Bob agreed readily, relieved. He didn’t know if he would be able to reach a climax, but Harry needed release badly; he’d already demonstrated the patience of a saint.

They both moved closer until they were touching at chest and groin, legs entwined. Knowing that Harry would never make the first move now, Bob pressed forward as he had in the shower, groaning at the instant, sharp pleasure it caused him to feel. At first his thrusts were timid, but as he gained confidence and felt more in control, he allowed his body to take over at last. He pulled Harry to him, hands firmly on his ass.

“It’s all right Harry, please – touch me,” he asked, beginning to establish a rhythm for his desire.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Harry smiled, firmly cupping smooth cheeks, kneading, pulling Bob hard against him and enthusiastically thrusting back.

Although he was anxious for his own release, he found himself wishing briefly that this could go on because he wanted to experience Bob feeling real pleasure again after so long – but rather than feeling the actual pleasure he so deserved, he seemed to be engaged in a desperate struggle to achieve his goal.

Bob’s face was flushed, his breathing noisy and hard, and he was making coarse, low grunts of effort. Harry couldn’t help but think of the fear and frustration behind those sounds, and rather than being turned on, suddenly he could feel himself starting to lose his erection. Dammit! If this was a peek at what Bob was going through, it sucked. They both had to get past this, now, for Bob’s sake.

Harry closed his eyes, remembering the soft look in Bob’s eyes that had so clearly said I love you, and I need you. He concentrated not on the painful desperation he heard, but on Bob’s beautiful, open, loving face. He remembered all the times Bob had looked after him; the way he’d sat with him, read to him, teased him, cheered him up. It couldn’t have been easy in Justin’s household, but Bob did it for him; he’d loved him as long ago as that.

He came noisily, his wail a counterpoint to Bob’s guttural song of hope. More emotionally exhausted than physically, Harry needed to catch his breath for a moment – but only a moment. Knowing him, Harry was afraid that now that Bob was sure of his release, he wouldn’t continue to try for his own.

Pinned to the bed by Bob’s increasingly frantic thrusts, Harry crooned to him. “Let it go, love. Let yourself have it. It’s all right. Let yourself feel the good.”

“Don’t let them win, love. You’ve survived them, and I’m here with you now. I want you to come, Bob. Please,” he pleaded softly.

Bob’s thrusts became shuddering jerks. He was gasping for air, and Harry swore he could feel Bob’s heart pounding wildly against his chest. He didn’t dare say or do anything more; he didn’t want Bob to have a heart attack, and he had a sudden real fear of that, very aware of what the effort was costing him.

“It’s all right, love, whatever happens, it’s all right. I’m here,” Harry told him. Bob gasped, jerked hard, and Harry felt a gush of warmth against his thighs. He held on tight as Bob let the strong spasms overtake him, his body without defense, feeling everything. Harry petted and comforted him, easing him down, hoping that the tension would leave his body – which it did all of a sudden, without warning. Bob went completely boneless on him, although he still gasped for air.

“Shhhhh. Sleep, love. You’ve earned it,” Harry sighed. He settled Bob beside him, pulling the covers up over both of them, and curled himself around his trembling, exhausted lover. “Sleep,” he repeated, intending to watch over Bob and make sure he was all right. But despite his best intentions, he slipped into a light doze.


My gentle, beautiful love. You sleep as you live your life, sweetly and innocently.

I have rarely been so genuinely frightened, or so lost. I wasn’t sure if I could do this. I didn’t know whether I was still capable, or if the Gods had given you to me while taking that particular joy away; I’m so very glad they have not. I look forward to many days and nights of loving, and being loved by you.

Let the Council think what they will, I will have no great ambition beyond you, Harry. The most important thing I have learned from my punishment is that I must nurture and treasure that which has been given to me out of love. There is nothing that is worth the risk of losing you.

I couldn’t let go of as much of my past as I have already if you hadn’t been here with me, encouraging and loving me every moment, always ready to defend and protect me. You’ve had precious little love and tenderness in your life, yet all you possess you have bestowed freely upon me.

Those in your daily life severely undervalue you; I never will again. Because I have known you since boyhood I’ve still thought of you in many ways as a boy, but I’ve seldom been more wrong, and have never been happier about it. I’m very proud of the strong, sensitive, caring man you’ve become. Any fears I’ve had about my ability to cope with this new life, any worry that I would not be able to look after you if I couldn’t care for myself have vanished, confronted by your confidence, your determination, and your love.

You will know that I love and treasure you every day, Harry. That is a promise.


Harry was having a lovely waking dream. Bob was cradling him in his arms, kissing and stroking him. He’d had this dream for many years, but it had never seemed so vivid, so real. He could feel Bob’s fingertips gliding over his chest and belly, soft and sensual, arousing him easily, as the mere thought of Bob always could.

“I love you, Harry.”

The words seemed to echo in his head. Damn nice dream. If it were the perfect dream, of course, Bob would touch his cock and bring him off, or go down on him. But this was still just a dream, even if it was different than the usual ones, and that wasn’t going to happen no matter how much he yearned for it.

“Harry. Harry love. Harry!”

Dammit, he did not want to wake up from this particular dream, and he bloody well wasn’t going to.

“HAAIR-eeee,” the voice insisted, with pained patience. Bob’s voice.

Harry opened one eye. Dreamtime was over. Dear God!

“Are you all right?” he asked sleepily.

“Very much so,” Bob assured him. He felt a large, hot hand engulf his cock.

“You don’t need to do that. Really, you don’t. I mean, if you don’t feel - ”

“Oh, but I do feel like doing this. To you. For you. It would please me. It’s something I want, too,” Bob confirmed, his breath hot against Harry’s ear.

“Are you sure you’re - ”

“Feeling better by the minute. If there’s anything you’d like, just ask,” Bob responded, squeezing lightly, very pleased to feel Harry’s almost instant response.

“Kiss me. Just…kiss me. Please,” Harry asked softly.

Shaken by the simple, wistful request, Bob wordlessly complied. He kissed Harry in all the ways he’d wanted to kiss him over the years, and in all the ways Harry was telling him he wanted to be kissed. Soft and sweet, hot and hard, tender and deep. He tasted, bit and sucked the full, soft lips, invaded the eager mouth, and softly stroked Harry’s tongue with his. Sexy kisses, innocent ones. Kisses of regret and promise, joy and desire. Some day, he would kiss every inch of him, wet, hungry, and impatient, as lovers often are. But any future kisses would never equal these in Harry’s heart and Bob knew it, so he put his own heart into every one.

Harry moaned softly, pressing himself up into Bob’s hand. “Touch me,” he breathed.

“Kiss you, touch you, suck you,” Bob returned in his ear, moving down between Harry’s bent knees. “And fuck you.” He slipped his middle finger into his mouth and wet it, then collected a few drops of Harry’s pre-cum on the fingertip. Taking advantage of Harry’s closed eyes, he pressed the digit against the dark opening to his body and entered him to the hilt.

Harry gasped, as if he suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Oh! Yess! Fuck me, Bob. Fuck me.” His head moved restlessly on the pillow.

“Yes, Harry,” he drawled, working slow and deep, marveling at the expression on Harry’s face. Had he ever done that to anyone before, he wondered, spellbound at the pleasure he was giving, expressed on the sexy, mobile countenance of the one being on earth he loved more than he’d ever loved anything or anyone. With his other hand he once again began to pay attention to Harry’s cock, alternating with his mouth.

Harry thought he must have died and gone to heaven. Years ago, when he was doing his ‘get-the-hell-away-from-Justin’ thing, he’d been with guys who were, so to speak, professionals at this sort of thing, though he’d never been on the actual paying end. They were just friends who really knew what they were doing. They knew every move, every trick to turn you on, to make you crazy. But even they hadn’t done to him what Bob was doing. It was as if Bob was inside his head, inside his body, and he knew exactly what to do where, how hard or soft, and for how long, to drive him insane. It just felt so damn good he wanted to cry. He couldn’t stop moving; he couldn’t, even if he’d wanted to, keep quiet either.

He didn’t know what felt hotter, Bob sucking his cock or Bob finger-fucking him, but the combination was mind-blowing. He let go, let himself feel it all. If he closed his eyes he could concentrate on the sensations, but when he opened them he saw Bob, sweaty and intense, fucking and sucking him with love in his eyes.

“Gonna come,” he wailed helplessly.

“Yes,” Bob nodded, kissing his belly. “Now.”

Bob sucked hard, and Harry went ‘off like a rocket’, as he’d predicted earlier, right into Bob’s mouth. His lover drank every drop of him, as if he were a fine liqueur.

For a few seconds he couldn’t concentrate on anything more than the intense feelings of release and joy that zapped every part of him like an electric shock. So incredibly good, and right. So strong.

“Lovely Harry,” Bob murmured, releasing him with a last kiss to the tip of his cock.

“Oh Bob,” he found himself babbling several times over, trying to catch his breath, pressing his face against Bob’s chest. “Oh my G…..that was…I can’t even…you….”

“There, you’ve made me happy, sweetheart,” Bob grinned, holding onto Harry tightly as his breathing slowed. So, he hadn’t lost his touch. The Gods were smiling on him indeed.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can’t stand the idea of you hurting, or needing anything I can’t do for you or get for you,” Harry fretted. “I don’t want you ever to be unhappy, or worry.” All his fears about their relationship were bubbling to the surface now that this hurdle was past. He cursed himself for sounding like a child as they came tumbling out.

Bob was moved by the awkward jumble of love and insecurity spilling out of Harry so soon after he’d led him confidently out of the darkness.

“I know…and I feel the same about you. But we’ll be fine, you and I, Harry love. I can feel it,” Bob told him softly, “in my bones.”