The Tied Man

The smile was returned, hesitant at first, then blooming into a beautiful, unfettered grin.

In reply, he kissed me.  At first, a quick, chaste kiss to my lips to check that this was allowed, and a million miles away from the manufactured passion I had witnessed over the past months.  I moved my face closer to his, inviting a second.  Reassured, Finn kissed me again – properly this time, so that toothpaste and wine and tobacco mingled in my mouth, and the tip of his tongue tentatively explored my lips and the points of my teeth.  His moan of desire was muffled by our embrace as I began to move my left hand down his chest, spreading my fingers to take in the warmth of skin and soft down of his hair.

My journey took me to the dip of his stomach and the new, raised scar of Royce’s attack, and I stopped for a moment to give him time to accept and allow what I was about to do.  Subconsciously he pushed his hips towards me and, permission given, I unbuttoned his pyjama pants and eased them over the sharply defined corners of his pelvis.  I managed to resist touching his cock for now, instead stroking around his hips and around to the hollow of his back to allow me to pull him even closer.  He kissed me again, longer and harder than before and the delicate skin of my inner thighs turned to silk.

We finally broke away and I rested my cheek against his shoulder so that my face nuzzled into his neck, and I could breathe in Finn’s unique, subtle scent.  When I was confident that I had all his trust, I finally took his erect cock in my right hand.  With my left, I entwined my fingers through the damp hair at the nape of his neck and our faces were now so close that we were sharing the same breath.

I increased the pressure in my grip, just enough to elicit another groan of sheer pleasure, and brushed my thumb over the tip to massage a bead of pre-cum around the shaft.  I had only just begun to move my hand along the length in a steady, insistent rhythm when Finn’s eyes widened in surprise; he gave a series of stuttering little gasps and came.  I felt his back arch as muscle and tendon contracted, and his semen flowed over my fingers.

‘Oh God,’ he whispered, and buried his head into my chest. ‘Oh God oh God oh God… that… I mean, oh my fuckin’ God…’  He re-emerged to look me directly in the eye.  ‘That was amazing… just so bloody quick, I’m sorry…’

‘Shh,’ I soothed once more,  caressing his beautiful face, his neck, his chest, and never wanting the contact to end.

‘I’m meant to… I mean, do you…?’

I shook my head.  ‘No.  Just enjoy this.’

Finn

Nothing seemed real.  Nothing of what had happened, what we had dared to do – what my body had just proved itself capable of doing – and I didn’t even want to start thinking about any of it, as if analysis might prove that the whole wonderful thing was nothing more than a belated hallucination.

Tomorrow was going to bring hell for me – I had known that the second Lilith told her tale – and I didn’t begrudge a moment of it.  Her tenure here was almost done and then it would be time for her to reclaim her life, and I would be back where I was before she had stepped into my world.  I couldn’t imagine Blaine doing anything to me that was going to feel worse than that.

I pushed the whole brewing shitstorm into the smallest box I could find, and concentrated instead on the woman whose spine was pressed against the contours of my chest.  I was overwhelmed with a good, clean tiredness, and I decided that for once I was going to let it take me.

My last coherent thought was that she smelled amazing.  Just soap and shampoo, and nothing like the over-preened hags who thought that a gallon or so of expensive perfume might mask the stench of what they were doing to me.  With my nose buried in Lilith’s hair, I broke the final taboo and slept.

Lilith

It was still dark when the cry dragged me from sleep. Finn sat bolt upright next to me, and in the dying light of a near-empty oil lamp his forehead shone slick with sweat.

‘Bad dream?’ I asked, with impressive understatement.  I hated to think what nightmares must have caused the sheer terror in his voice.

‘Something like. Wha’ time is it?’

I squinted at the bedside clock. ‘Four, just about.’

‘Fuck.  Wow.  I can’t remember the last time I slept this long. ’

‘Are you all right?’  I stroked his cheek.

‘Yeah yeah,’ he caught my fingers and kissed them.  ‘Same old shit, that’s all.  Sorry for waking you.’

I hugged him, still hungry for contact, and planted my own kiss on his chest.