Chapter Seven
The air inside our little tent grew humid with scents of pies and sweets and sugared nuts, the playful spice scents of the lube. I breathed in the tartness of our arousal, the salt of our desire.
Even though he’d protested before entering the Sacred Chamber, Night had obviously readied himself for this moment, this day, as had I. He was carefully shaved around the entrance to his body, the pucker clean and pink. No doubt he’d fasted for the day, as well as cleaned himself as thoroughly inside as out, as all males did in preparation for the ritual with another male.
We had drunk more wine, and it made our bodies hot and slick against each other. I was generous with the lube. The first time was hard for some—male and female alike—but my expertise was males. And I knew how easily the first sting and rawness could panic a man, how necessary preparation was. The rite was a Rite of Ecstasy, not horror. But with Night it was not a rite any longer. Love ruled. We wanted a more personal connection; we wanted to be as close as possible to each other.
Night lay on his back, dark slashes of his hair falling over his eyes. The skin on his chest gleamed. His nipples were reddened and taut. His cock arched upward toward his belly. His knees were bent. He raised them toward his waist.
“You are beautiful,” I said.
I knelt on a thick cushion. My fingers teased him until the pucker opened just a bit and I was able push my forefinger inside him.
He gasped, but no ripple of pain crossed his features.
I kept my finger still until he said, “It’s okay, Star. I like it.”
Of course he did. I knew what I was doing. I added more lube. Pumpkin sweet, candy-scented.
I began to move my finger.
Night closed his eyes and exhaled in delight. His abdomen tightened. His fingers clenched. His mouth opened a fraction of an inch and his tongue showed pink in that space, pushing against his lower lip.
I drove my finger in and out of his hole, careful and slow at first, then picking up speed.
He became a bit looser, and I pushed two fingers in. He groaned in awe.
“I can’t wait to feel you!” His breathing grew heavier.
I felt for his prostate and gently caressed the nub.
His cock rose up from his abdomen, and clear fluid began to flow from the tip.
“Fuck!” was all he said.
I knew it could be a revelation for men when they discovered that gland existed inside them. I was happy to be the first to introduce that pleasure to Night.
Night arched his back upward, his cock flailing for attention, his hands gripping the cushions so tight I feared he would tear them.
“Star, I want you inside me. Now.”
“Patience,” I replied.
“Patience? When did you ever know me to be patient?”
He was right. And smart. When we were kids, he was always the first in line, the first to jump up to play a game, the first to raise his hand to teachers. I pushed to keep up, and failed him at times when I passed him and did not look behind me to see if was there. He’d get angry, but that didn’t stop him. He still wanted to be first in everything.
But he had not been the first to lose his virginity. Now I knew why. He’d been waiting for me.
My eyes warmed at the thought. Tingles of desire ran through my body. I wanted him more than anything. My cock swelled to be inside him.
I leaned toward him, kissing him. When I pulled back a few inches, I said, “Did you know it might be so pleasurable.” I rubbed my finger over his gland again.
He jerked and made a muffled sound of pleasure. “No,” replied when he caught his breath. “But damn you, Star, why won’t you fuck me? I’m ready. I want you.”
“Oh, I will,” I said. “Don’t worry. I will.”
“Star, Star, I want to feel you. I want you to burn inside me. I want—I want—“
“Shh.” I kissed him again.
He lifted his hips to me.
My fingers moved in, out, then out for good and I pulled back, looking down at him. His eyebrows flew up; his eyes widened. He looked bereft, forlorn.
I quickly lubed my cock and stroked his crack with it.
He took a deep breath. “Put it in. Please!”
“You are so lovely,” I said, caressing his cheek. Then I lowered my hand, positioned my cock to his throbbing entrance, and pushed. The lube helped him give way, and I eased in slowly. Control had never been a problem for me. I was well-trained, a credit to the Academy, but now my control began to ebb.
“Ah, Night, you’re so hot, so smooth. It’s incredible.”
“Do I feel good?”
“Do I?”
He grasped me about the hips, pulling me gently forward. “Oh, yes,” and he began to laugh.
“You feel so good,” I assured him, and joined in the laughter.
We moaned and laughed together as I entered him slowly, inch by inch, and his body allowed it. The mirth of our union, the dedication and the love, made it wonderful, effortless, sacred unto itself. This topped any ritual I’d ever participated in.
When I was fully sheathed inside him, he raised his legs and curved them about my waist. “Oh, gods that never were. Star! You feel so good.”
I did not move for almost a full minute. Instead, I bent to him and whispered in his ear. “Night. My love. My love.” I kept repeating myself. I didn’t care.
After a while of heavy breathing, his forehead pressed to mine, and he said, “Move. You can move now. Please!”
Slowly, I dragged my cock out to the tip.
Night moaned.
Then I pushed back in, giving myself over to easy, shallow thrusts. He took me easily, with zero resistance.
Sometimes I pushed all the way in, but mostly kept to shallow fucking, listening to his cries, knowing my cock had found his prostate and nudged it over and over until he was wild with the ecstasy of it, pushing his body onto mine, grabbing at my arms and shoulders.
I reached between us and took his cock in hand. He was so wet with pre-cum. I ran my thumb over the tip and spread it all over the shaft. I felt the hot skin slick in my palm as I rubbed the hard shaft. I could feel the throb of the big vein underneath. I increased my thrusts and the milking of his stiff organ until I felt his body go stiff. His head went back. He howled.
He clamped down with his inner muscles on my cock and I gasped in euphoria.
White streams of semen pulsed from him, the spasms so strong he sprayed both our chests. Some of it even shot toward the cushions. I held him tight in my fist, squeezing all I could form him.
He shuddered and yelled. Residual liquid spilled over my fingers as his cock continued to throb.
As his muscles loosened a bit, I increased my pace inside him, feeling the loss of reason come over me, the pleasure pool in my spine and my balls, my cock so sensitive it could take no more.
My cries joined his.
I pulsed inside him, coming so hard it felt like pieces of me were falling away, never to be retrieved.
Inside and out I felt wrung, depleted, as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. For long moments I could not breathe.
I collapsed upon Night’s chest
“Star.” He spoke softly. “Star.” Gentle hands combed through my gold sprayed hair.
“The. Best. Ever,” I managed to quip.
“Really?”
“Ugh.” I pressed my chin to his shoulder.
“When can we do it again?” he asked.
I began to laugh. “Give me a second.”
He chuckled, and then let out a real giggle. “You know, you just took my virginity.”
I lifted my head. “And I’ll do it again and again and again.”
“How can you? I’m not a virgin anymore.”
“We can always be whatever we want to be together, in bed, where no rules apply.”
His laugh came shrill. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
Suddenly, we heard a bump in the room. And something soft like cloth on metal. We both looked up to the roof of our tent made from the sheets of the bed.
“Someone’s here,” Night said.