The Glance

By MontrealOrmolu

Published on Aug 7, 2008

Gay

The house was quiet, elegant, old. Wooden floors gleamed, peeking out from under scattered antique throw rugs. The walls were a soft off-white, forming an unobtrusive background for the artwork that hung on them. Watercolors, textiles, masks, flutes covered each wall, each one carefully arranged to work with the others surrounding it. Clearly, John had both very eclectic and very modern tastes. There were sculptures on the fireplace mantel, in the corners of the rooms, on antique tables and chests. Beautiful ceramics were featured everywhere; and there were baskets and baskets and baskets, some antique, some ethnic, some artisanal. The front rooms gave off a sense of creativity and somehow, a down-home kind of elegance. Things were rustic, and yet, somehow, sophisticated.

Ever the solicitous host, John turned to Chuck, "Can I hang up your coat?" Chuck just smiled at him, took off his coat and, as John reached for it, captured his hands. Chuck quickly pulled John into a hug, reaching around him with both arms. "I've wanted to do this since I first saw you, up at the altar." And he kissed him.

John froze. It had been a long, long time. He was used to being in charge, and this, this guy was was ... Chuck leaned into him, pulling him tight into the embrace, lips covering his, tongue flicking along his lips. Suddenly John's arms lifted of themselves. He put his hand on Chuck's neck and pulled him down. His mouth opened and he kissed Chuck fiercely, his barriers going down as Chuck's tongue thrust deeply into his own mouth. Their erections pushed against each other through their pants, their bodies bearing witness to what was going on in their souls.

Chuck pulled back, John's lips chasing him, reluctant to let go. "So, are you going to show me the rest of the house?" John took his hand, and led him deeper into the old house. "This is the master bedroom," he said as opened a door at the back of the house. Light flooded the room filtered through softly draped windows on three sides, the dark iron of the old frames giving the whole room a wonderful, antique feel. More antiques stood around the room, an old pine dresser and mirror, a pine Windsor chair, a bedside table in Birdseye Maple, and a large, raised canopy bed centered on one wall between two windows. Chuck drank it all in, pausing in the doorway. "What a wonderful room!"

"Yes. I fell in love with the house when I moved here. But, until now, it's also been pretty lonely."

Claws suddenly dug into Chuck's leg. "Ouch!" He looked down to see a Maine Coon Cat, luxurious tail straight up in the air, rub itself around his legs, demanding the attention to which royalty were due.

"Stop that, Joe." John quickly picked up the cat, draping him across his arms. "I'm sorry, Chuck. He can be pretty demanding. But he's been my major company for the past few years and I've spoilt him rotten." The cat butted his head against John's chin, demanding more attention, completely oblivious to the fact that John didn't have three arms -- two to hold him and an extra to scratch. Chuck reached out for him, "What a gorgeous cat. Let me hold him, please." John let Chuck lift the cat out of his arms. Chuck settled him into his arms, able to hold him like a baby with one arm and scratch him with the other hand. The cat butted his head up against Chuck's hand, purring the whole while. "What an amazing cat!" John looked at the two, the cat seeming so comfortable in the man's arms. He smiled, at peace with the scene before him. "Hey, I thought you were going to do that with me," he teased Chuck. Chuck quickly looked up at him, a big smile creasing his face, "Oh, I will, I will." He laughed at John, enjoying the teasing. Then he set the cat down, and reached for John. "Come here, big guy, let me rub your tummy." John melted into arms, wrapping his own arms around Chuck, leaning up for a kiss.

And kiss they did, mouths melting into each other, tongues caressing, thrusting, battling. Every now and then they stopped for oxygen, their lungs forcing them to break apart. John found himself backed up to the bed with no memory of them moving across the room. His knees buckled and they fell back on the bed, bouncing on the mattress. Chuck laughed. He forced himself up on one elbow, shifting off to the side, his other hand caressing John, slowly working its way under the shirt, stroking his tummy -- just as he had promised, moving up to slowly tweak a nipple. John's breath caught and his body arched up to meet Chuck's fingers. Chuck slowly opened each button, drawing the shirt aside so he could see the body his hands had been feeling. His eyes drank it in and he leaned over John, tongue flicking one nipple, teeth slowly teasing. John jerked back, moaning deep in his throat, his hands reached up and tangled themselves in Chuck's hair as he brought the head up to his mouth again. And he kissed Chuck with every fiber of his being, trying to drink him in, to make his soul one with his own. "Let me see you. I need to see you," he breathed into Chuck's mouth.

Chuck drew back, kneeling on the bed, slowly pulling his mussed up shirt out of his pants, pausing as he opened each button and then drawing the shirt off over his shoulders and down his arms. His chest, lightly fuzzed with hair, a trail accentuating his abs, gleamed with sweat. John reached up one hand, drawing it up through the hair, turning it so that his fingers could lightly graze Chuck's erect nipple. He sat up suddenly and began to lick Chuck's chest, first one nipple then the other, then running his lips down the fur trail to bury his tongue in the "innie" which peeked out from the hair. He pulled Chuck to him, and then gently flipped him so that he landed on top this time. He stood, bending over to undo Chuck's belt buckle, gently easing the zipper down, letting his hands move down the legs and slipping off the shoes and socks. He tugged on the pants and Chuck lifted his body so that the pants could slip off. Unconsciously, he folded the pants neatly and set them aside.

He turned back and let his hands drift up Chuck's legs, enjoying the rasp of leg hairs against his palms. What a sight lay before him -- a man, muscled, hairy, no extra weight on the length of his lean body, a mouth which smiled all the time, eyes which twinkled, a strong, rough face -- all man right down to the cock which throbbed and fought to be free of his underwear. It took but a moment for John to step out of his own shoes, slip off his socks, let his shirt drop on top of Chuck's carefully folded pants, unzip his own pants letting them slide down his legs and fold them on top of Chuck's. As he reached for his shorts, Chuck said, "No. Let me."

Chuck sat up and scooted over to the edge of the bed. He reached for John and brought him forward, his hands reaching around to massage John's ass. He bent his head and began to trace John's straining cock with his tongue. He sucked on it until the front of John's shorts were no longer opaque, all the while letting his hands knead John's glutes. He stuck one hand underneath and caressed them, slowly letting his middle finger graze over John's pucker. He slipped his other hand under the waistband, and lifted the shorts over John's dripping erection and lowered them down his legs. He leaned forward, opening his mouth to gently begin tonguing the underside, working his way towards the top where he could lick off the precum. John's hips jerked forward and then Chuck quickly swallowed the whole thing. John bucked again, his hands clutching in Chuck's hair.

"John, I'm sorry. It's been too long. I'm going to cum."

"It's OK, let yourself go." Chuck began to move up and down John's length, using all the suction he could manage, using one hand to piston the bottom length. John's began to move, in, out, in, out and then he lost rhythm, his hips jerking spasmodically, his body arching, everything focused on the gush. Grunts forced themselves out of his belly and through his lips. He froze for an instant and then began to fold in, everything going soft.

Chuck gathered him in, bringing his arms up to cradle him as he turned, guiding John into his lap where John leaned against his chest, head cradled in his shoulder, aftershocks still coursing through his body. Chuck caressed him, using his hands as a father soothes a son to communicate safety, warmth, acceptance, love. John melted into Chuck.

Chuck stood up, turning to place John on the bed, and then crawled in beside him, spooning him so that his body cradled John along his whole length. "Shhh. Shhh." He held John close. John began to move, trying to wriggle around. Chuck loosened his embrace, and John turned to face him. "You haven't come yet. Let me ..."

"Shhh. Shhh. This was for you. Just cuddle in and relax."

"But ..."

"Shhh. Relax." Chuck began to stroke John again, bringing his hand down along John's side from shoulder to hip, over and over again. John let himself be soothed, nestling in and beginning to doze. Chuck pulled up a light comforter from the bottom of the bed and covered them both. And they fell asleep.

Next: Chapter 5


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