Previously
From where Brendan held him, Marc gazed down on Brendan’s face. The water had made his hair flat, though the curls tried to reassert themselves. Brendan features were placid, almost gentle. Unusual for Brendan, so much that Marc grinned, slipping his hands up to frame Brendan’s jaw and cheeks, like a cup for libation.
“Who made you?”
Brendan sighed. “You know.”
There was a pause as the memory of the desert threatened to dry the pool with harsh winds and sand. Marc quickly leaned down to kiss Brendan’s forehead, and said to his skin;
“Remember that harmony was born of love and war.”
Brendan chuckled sardonically. “Never thought I was that harmonious.”
Marc brushed his hand down Brendan’s wet hair. “Just saying that people can come from the most unlikely of places.”
Brendan pulled back, and met Marc’s eyes, curious, a little puzzled, but soft and warm too. His fingers clutched at Marc’s back, adjusting him so he sunk a little further down. Marc was grinning until he realised his cock, stiff as an arrow, brushed against Brendan’s own.
TBC
Photo by Dominic’s Pics found on flickr and used under the Creative Commons License.
Original Article
Previously
When Marc did sink his teeth into Brendan’s shoulder, Brendan gripped his forearms, his own trembling, the water drops shuddering down his back. He would have melted into the pool itself, gasping for air as he sank.
The sound and feel of Brendan quivering against him was enough to make Marc catch him closer, pull his teeth away, and bury his face in Brendan’s neck.
They say blood is thicker than water, Marc mused. But water, when it enters the body, and is absorbed, becomes blood.
Brendan was both his water and blood, and Marc ached to absorb him through his skin.
Brendan must have sensed Marc’s impending desire to collapse into him, and scooped his hands under Marc’s buttocks, making him bring his legs up around Brendan’s own. Marc’s feet left the bottom of the pool. They could never have done this without the buoyancy of the water; Marc was taller, broader, and heavier.
“You fucking amaze me,” Brendan breathed.
Marc exhaled, knowing it was him he should have said that. Jesus, what the hell would Marc do without him?
Been in Hell, no doubt.
TBC
Photo by R.S., found on flickr and used under the Creative Commons License.
Original Article
We are now heading into NSFW territory. Text under the cut. :)
Continued from here
Marc fell into the kiss, while at the same time capturing Brendan to him, bring their bodies skin to skin, the water diverting around them to allow their hips and stomachs to slide next to each other.
Their cocks eased together – both had grown hard while in the water. After all this time, how much Marc still wanted Brendan, still felt the rising sensation in his belly. The serene comfort of being together, the familiarity and knowledge of each others bodies…it should have a dullness to it, Marc was sure. Yet Brendan’s coaxing mouth, and his splayed hands that caressed Marc’s hips, and then buttocks, rendered the comfort a new excitement.
The water made Brendan’s skin soft, slippery. Marc ducked his head, away from Brendan’s mouth, and planted a kiss where his neck met his shoulder. There was the slightest rise and fall of Brendan’s chest; it took Marc months to realise that this was a sign of arousal, that he was touching him the right way, that his lips had found the exact places would, if teased, would drive Brendan wild.
And of course, Marc knew that the spot he was pressing his lips to, once he begun with his teeth, would have Brendan rolling his head back and crying aloud.
Read on
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Original Article
(Because L asked me to continue it. Thanks love. :) I’ll pick up where I left off.)
Continued from here
—
Marc chuckled, but his face burned as he peeled off the jeans, his cock shyly slipping out and hanging loose once he’d unbuttoned. No one was around, and yet his nakedness felt all the more stark outdoors, no walls to protect him.
As he kicked his jeans away, Marc said, “Remember the water hole near Broken Hill?”
Brendan stopped moving, and the lapping of the water stilled, the silence compressing the night air.
Marc frowned; he could see the glint in Brendan’s eyes, a darkness concealled by their apparent shine. “Brendan?”
Brendan sank under the water, and suddenly emerged, shaking the water from his hair.
“There’s a lot to remember about Broken Hill.”
Continued here
Photo by tourist_on_earth, found on flickr and used under the Creative Commons License.
Original Article
Previously
—
Brendan slipped in the water. It rippled, a distorted mirror, fracturing and wavering the trees in the reflection. Marc lowered what he carried to the ground. Once, the sight of Brendan naked and wet, his skin reflecting the moonlight, would have sent blood rushing straight to his cock. Now, as he watched Brendan glide through the water to the centre of the pool, his body filled with the warm hum that comfortable and familiar bring when they surprise you with an image of stark beauty.
Brendan glanced back, face serious. “Are you coming?”
Marc started to take tentative steps over the rocks to the water, when Brendan laughed.
“Jeans off, you fool!”
TBC
Photo by mira66, found on flickr and used under the Creative Commons License.
Original Article
More from ‘Water and Dust’.
Continued from here
Marc looked back at Brendan, whose eyes were still on the sky.
“What?”
Brendan indicated back onto their land with his head. “This way.”
As the dogs settled back to their post, Marc followed Brendan into the trees, he said, “We should be getting back.”
Without turning, Brendan said, “For who?”
Continue reading
Original Article
