Closer
by Aimless
The second song ficlet I got for my random shuffle was Nine Inch Nails "Closer". I wanted to write something bold and sexy but yet with hints of the plot line to come. I hope you like it.
Hugs,
Amy
Hands gripped his quivering thighs hard enough to bruise. His breath panting and harsh groaning loudly as the figure moved over him. Back arched he felt every inch as he was slowly penetrated. His long legs draped over a pair of wide shoulders as the man above him gasped his appreciation.
“Oh God. Feels so good!”
He missed the contact as that searing heat withdrew from his body only to be thrust back in a moment later. Sweat damp skin slid along skin as the friction of their bodies caused them both to moan loudly. He opened his grey eyes to gaze up at his lover. Midnight dark hair messily stuck to his dampened forehead. Head bowed as he drove repeatedly into that clinging tightness. His face though remained mostly hidden by that thick fall of shoulder length black waves.
“Promise me.” A voice grated, made harsh by the act they were engaged in. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.”
“Promise!” Punctuated by a hard thrust against a spot that had him crying out in pleasure.
All he could do was nod and fist his own achingly hard cock. Hand gliding easily in the pre-cum flowing steadily with each prod to his prostate.
“Mine! You’re mine!” the voice ground out as he was fucked mercilessly.
His body tensed and his hand sped up. It was too much…the pace relentlessly driving them both to one final eruption.
Yelling his pleasure and not caring who heard he came with an almost painful intensity. Thick jets of creamy fluid arced out to decorate his chest and abdomen. He moaned and lifted his hips as he rode out the throes of his orgasm. His body clenching hard on the cock buried deep inside. Until his lover, dragging him even closer, going impossibly deeper exploded inside him in a warm rush.
Time stood still for that one perfect moment.
Free abruptly woke from his dream, still gasping for air. The covers lay tangled at the foot of the bed and his hand was buried in his briefs.
What had just happened? He’d never had a dream like that before. Usually due to his amnesia, Free dreamed about nebulous feelings and recent events. Never something this vividly sexual.
Flushing when he realized his hand was still wrapped around his spent cock. Free pulled his sticky hand out and grimaced in distaste. He would have expected any dreams of this kind to inappropriately star Michel. His body had become attuned to the young blond’s proximity and acted on it’s own on occasion. So who was this black haired stranger? The one that begged him not to leave?
Free felt a sudden sense of extreme loss he could not explain. The pain seemed overwhelming. He curled up on his side and uncaringly wiped his hand on his sheets. On the verge of hyperventilating he could not stop the tears that came unbidden to his eyes.
Unable to understand that had just happened Free huddled miserably in the dark room and waited for morning.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Unseen by the tall assassin Michel hovered in the doorway. Drawn by his team mate’s cries he’d crept to the door and peeked inside.
He barely managed to stifle a gasp at the long lean lines of Free’s muscular body as it arched off the sheets. The assassin’s hand stroked a rather sizable erection barely contained in his briefs.
It was wrong but Michel could not turn away. His excitement rose with Free’s. Michel’s hand slid into his own loose pajama bottoms and matched the rhythm stroke for stroke. Biting his lip to make as little noise as possible Michel relished Free’s every gasp and moan. Before long he was hard as a rock and dripping steadily. The natural lubrication made his motion wet and smooth. Michel leaned against the door frame and could not contain a whimper of his own as Free’s whole body tensed. The assassin shuddered, cried out and came into his griping fist. Michel was but a second behind and sticky warmth coated his fingers and groin.
Free’s body went limp as he gasped for breath. His eyes fluttered and Michel stood there for a second horrified he’d be caught.
Michel backed out the door and closed it softly before fleeing to the safety of his own room. Once behind the locked door he grimaced at the tacky crotch of his pajama pants. He peeled them off and bundled them into a close hamper. Wiped himself off with a handful of tissues and flopped onto his own bed.
That little show proved Free was not as asexual as they all thought. Michel still could not believe what he’d witnessed. He groaned as his dick stirred again. It was going to be a long night.
He’d left so abruptly Michel never even realized what a wreck his best friend had become in the space of one erotic dream.