triceybabe (triceybabe) wrote in original_slash, @ 2007-10-08 17:00:00 |
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Current mood: | cold |
The Negotiation
Well wl551 have been at it again! Hope you guys like.
Title: The Negotiation
Auther: triceybabe and wl551
Rating: NC_17
Warnings: Slash, angst
Authors notes: This is an rp by wl551 and I, fomatted to story mode. Please leave feedback.
The Negotiation
Clay leaned against the wall. His blue blond hair fell over his forhead covering his wordly eyes as men and women passed him by. He could have been part of the wall for all the people cared. He fished out a cigarette he had swiped from a john last night and quickly lit it. As his blue eyes began to lift from the flickering flame, he spotted a sleek black Bently parked on the shoulder across the street. A tall muscular man in an obviously designer business suit stepped out. There was something about the man that peaked his curiousity. Just as he put the lighter back into his pocket, his kitten, Moon, dashed out from beside him, and ran out into the street. "Moon!" he yelled, running after him and dropping the ciggarette. A car sped in front of Clay, narrowly missing the kitten.
Grant climbed out of the Bentley before the driver could come around to open the door. His stance full of confidence as he turned to face the high rise that would become his new home away from home for the next two months. The Brackwood Corporation didn't go halfway for their most prized negotiator. As the tall man waited for the driver to come around with his luggage, he heard a shout from across the busy street. The near-scream drove a spike of instinctual terror through his gut. He whipped he head around, his black hair stinging his face. Horrified, he watched as a young man darted out into oncoming traffic. 'Stop!' he shouted mentally.
His face was deadpan as he watched, the skill he mastered as a negotiator, but his heart, however, clenched painfully as the boy was very nearly hit. 'Not again,' he thought.
"Moon!" Clay yelled again at the silvery white kitten. He made a grab for her, tripping in the process and fell to his knees. The kitten finally stopped running and darted back to Clay, who was very nearly sprawled on the ground. Clay gratefully scooped her up into his arms and hurriedly got to his feet. He turned to go back to the sidewalk, but froze as a garbage truck barreled towards them. He clutched the cat in his arms and turned his back. He said a quick prayer to God, praying that his kitten, at least, would make it. He whimpered as he shielded the cat for what he knew was to come.
It was the same nightmare all over again. Grant watched the boy scramble and scoop up the small bundle he was clenching fearfully to his chest. Time warped out of all sense. It moved with excruciating slowness, yet sped before his eyes in a dizzying swirl of lights and sounds. Grant didn't think, he moved. He sped past the driver, the old man's mouth agape. Slipping in his slick-soled Mark Nason's on the still damp pavement, he managed to dodge a car pulling through the light, spinning around the obsticle with ease as its horn blared in his ears. Skidding to stop on the yellow line, he made a desperate grab for the boy and yanked.
He blinked as time leapt back into real speed as the garbage truck, horn wailing, blurred past. Life and death in a matter of inches... in a matter of milliseconds. He turned back toward his car, the boy still firmly in his grib, and drug them both back across the street. He released the kid almost brutally once their feet hit the sidewalk. "What the fuck were you trying to prove out there?!" he yelled, adreneline still pounding through his veins.
Clay shivered as the roar in his ears got louder. He blinked, looked around feeling bit confused. He was dimly aware of the irrate man in front of him. Moon nipped his finger, jerking him back to reality. "Moon!" he gasped, lifting his kitten eye level. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?" he asked her, searching her fur for scratches.
"You have got to be kidding me," Grant muttered, frown still creasing his brow and pulling his mouth downward. He resisted the urge to grab the boy again and shake him hard. He looked down at the top the kid's head, mussy hair covering his face as he cooed at the small kitten. Arms crossing his broad chest, he was intimidating at best. "Boy," he said sternly. "What were you thinking? Running out in the middle of traffic, you would've been killed." The polished businessman glanced over at his driver and gave him a barely imperceptible nod of his head. The driver raised an eyebrow and headed toward the complex busboy, pulling Grant's luggage behind him. "Well?" he asked, turning his full attention back to the boy.
Clay continued to whisper sweet words to the shivering kitten. As she began to purr and calm down, he looked up at the businessman who had just rescued them. "Mister... I... I..." He shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs that were making everything fuzzy. "She's going to be all right, isnt' she?" he asked forlornly.
Grant heaved a sigh, collecting himself, gaining the perfect control for which he was known. "Yeah, kid. The cat is going to be fine." He raked his eyes down the length of the boy he'd just saved. "You should be more concerned about yourself." He kept his immediate reaction of distaste out of his voice, though he couldn't keep his sharp eyes from barely narrowing.
With a sigh of relief, his shakey legs finally gave out. He sank to the ground, heart pounding in his throat, as what just happened sank in. "Oh my god... I almost lost her..," he murmured, placing a hand against his throat and swallowing painfully. "Thanks... I'm sorry..."
"Jeezus," Grant said to himself. "Are you only hearing half of what I'm saying. Kid." He looked down at the young man shivering from shock, stroking the kitten he had saved from being hit. The glitter of tears reflecting, in flashes, the cars that continued to zoom by. The complete vulnerability caught him completely off guard. A ghostly image transfixing over the boy. He ran a hand over his face to clear his vision. Jetlag was getting to him. He wanted nothing more than to climb into the unfamiliar bed that was waiting for him and go to sleep. He knelt beside the boy. "Come on," he said softly.
He looked up, tears brimming in his eyes. He shook his head. "I'm a whore... They'll never let me in," his voice cracked, and he took in a shuddering breath.
The usually stern businessman almost smirked. "I know what you are." He stood back up and faced the building. Without a backward glance, he walked away, expecting the boy to follow. Knowing, somehow, that he would.
And as expected, Clay stumbled to his feet and shuffled after him. He clutched the kitten tighter to him and kept his head down as he huddled over Moon protectively. She let out a small meow at the treatment but stayed calmly in his grasp. The lobby hostess stopped him halfway to the elevator. "I'm sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "But you can't be here...." Clay almost rolled his eyes as his eyes darted toward the businessman that just stepped into the elevator.
"He's with me," Grant said coldly, grabbing the young man and pulling him into the elevator past the lobby bitch. He cocked his brow and narrowed his eyes, daring her to say anything to the contrary as he pushed the button to his floor. He smirked as the doors closed.
Clay stood quietly behind the man as a few other people entered the elevator on their way up. He kept his eyes trained on his rescuer's backside. Not that it was a difficulty; it was a very nice backside. He almost giggled. Instead he cleared his throat and begged the hilarity to quiet down.
As the elevator gained a few more passengers, Grant gritted his teeth and stepped closer to his tagalong, giving himself a bit more space from the newcomers. The ride to his floor was thankfully short. He wasn't in the mood to be around people.
Clay reached out and grabbed the bottom part of tall stranger's jacket as people began taking notice of him, feeling uncomfortable surrounded by obviously rich people. Moon squirmed in his one arm, meowing pitifully. One woman looked like she wanted to touch her, but Clay moved a bit closer to the wall and away from the woman.
The door chimed a gentle ding at his floor, and he stepped off the elevator. Stopping long enough to glance at the plaque on the wall, he turned toward his right. He disdained to notice the tug on his jacket, stride lengthening in irratation as he walked. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to drag a street kid, a male whore at that, up to a penthouse in a strange town on a business trip. 'I need to put in a for vacation,' he thought to himself.
The doors finally opened and the dark haired man stepped out; Clay, continuing to hold onto his suit jacket, followed him out. He practically had to run to keep up with the man's long strides down the wide, lushly carpeted hall.
When Grant opened the door to the penthouse, he was grateful that his things had been put away. "Come on in, then," he motioned to the boy. "What's your name, kid?"
"Clay," he murmured, bending over to place Moon on the ground. The kitten promptly ran off to explore. He walked over to the window looking down at the very area where he was almost killed. "What do you do? Sell drugs?" he asked in an attempt to sneer but failed miserably when he voice cracked.
Grant didn't fail with his own sneer of contempt. "I have worked very hard to get where I am." He tossed this coat over a chair and went straight for the bar. "Clay. Interesting name. Mine's Grant," he said off-handedly. "Don't let that cat piss on the floor." He glanced around for the furball. "Want a drink?" He asked as ice clicked into a whiskey glass.
"As if I could find her now," he murmured to himself. "Please," he answered louder. He walked over to the bar and sat down on a stool. "So what is it that you do?" He took the offered glass, sipping slowly. The amber fluid burned a path down his chest. He gave a sigh of relief as his functions came back under control, finally.
Grant shoved black hair out of his eyes and got a good look, for the first time, at the boy whose life he'd saved. The boy was a bit gangly. His hair fell in a stylishly mussy cut, locks spilling easily into his sparkling eyes lined in heavy black. His clothes, what there were of them, looked cut more for a girl, yet it did work for him, if one was into that sort of thing. "I am the top business negotiator for the Brackwood Corporation. I negotiate buy-outs, settle partner disagreements. That sort of thing. I started on the bottom rung and have worked and sacrificed to get where I am." He felt a strange sense of needing to defend his success to this nobody kid. He slammed the remainder of the whiskey down his throat and poured out another splash, the warm-bodied liquid settling nicely in this stomach.
"Very nice, mister..." he murmured, smirking a bit. "You have done very well for yourself. I'm surprise to find you here by yourself... or are you?" he asked moving his head to look around. His eyes fell on Grant's hand. "No wedding band?"
"No," he said a bit too forcefully. A bit too quickly. He pulled a barstool around and leaned on it with one leg. "Yes, I have done quite well, but nothing more than anyone else can achieve with hard work." He arched his brow at the young man. "What about you? I'm almost afraid to ask. Why the hell do you...? Nevermind. Why the hell were you trying to get yourself killed back there? If you need help getting off the street, I can see what I can do..."
He rolled his eyes. "Can't save everyone, mister." He gulped the rest of his whiskey down. "I find, its better not to even try." He stood up and stretched, his shirt riding up over his torso, displaying quite a bit of skin. Clay stepped up to him, placing a hand on the stranger's chest. "But I thank you." He pressed his body flush up to his. "Allow me to show you just how much." He sank to his knees, looking up.
Grant stumbled back, knocking the stool over. "What the hell? That kind of thanks is NOT necessary, I assure you!" he nearly shouted in alarm.
Clay blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting that. He snorted and then finally gave into the hilarity of the situation. "I guess I misjudged the situation," he said between bouts of giggles. He stood up, still chuckling. "Boy, was I wrong. I thought you were... well, you know, I'm a whore. This is what I do. And this is really all I've known. It's very rare that I'm wrong about sexual orientations. I'm sorry if I offended you, and I'll be on my way..." He looked around for cat. Feeling more than a little embarrassed, he wanted to get out quick.
"Clay. You don't have to leave." He bent to right the stool again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."
He stood there in the middle of the living area, blushing to the root of his toes. Still feeling embarrassed, he crossed his arms over his torso, feeling naked in this strange room, with this strange man. "Why did you bring me here if it wasn't for that...?" he asked, still blushing.
Grant let a laugh roll up and fill the room for a moment; it sounded hollow. "I honestly don't know." He walked around to the young man who seemed so small. He lifted his chin and let himself be swallowed for a long minute in those too jaded eyes. "I don't know," he whispered again.
Clay turned away, still flushed, and sat down on the couch. "Can we... Can we watch tv? I haven't watched any in a while," he commented, changing the subject. He wiggled his fingers at Moon, who chose that moment to make an appearance.
Grant chuckled and nodded his head. "Sure. You hungry? I can call for a pizza." He reached for the Blackberry in his pocket. "If I remember correctly, teenaged boys are always hungry." He smiled as he tossed the remote towards the boy.
"That sounds good," he said, almost shyly as he got comfortable, squirming into the plush cushions. He flipped through the channels until he found a movie to watch. He hadn't been lying when he said it had been awhile. It'd been two long years since he's done anything resembling normality.
"Alright. Everything on it, then?" he asked as he dialed down to the lobby. He felt so... so domestic as he pressed the buttons. It was a strange feeling after so many years. He glanced at the old movie Clay had chosen to watch and smiled. Not your average teenaged boy, then. Not at all. His graceful, dancer's type body was flopped gracelessly across the elegant couch. A small smile danced on his intent face. Grant was almost mesmerized by him.
He kept stealing glances and curious stares at his host while they waited for room service. Clay didn't understand him. After Grant tipped the room service boy, Clay got to his knees on the couch, leaning against the back. "So. Just what is your sexual orientation?" he asked, tilting his head in a way that resembled his cat.
The businessman was used to subtly in discussions. He was taken aback by the boy's abruptness. "Now, that's a personal question, isn't it?" He laughed nervously. Although, he wasn't against same sex relationships, he had never given it a thought. He hadn't given any kind of relationship a thought after Danielle and Rosaly had died, in fact. "I'm not homophobic, if that's what you're asking. I'm not going to judge what you do with your life."
Moon climbed up the couch, laying down next to Clay's head. Together they looked at the man, both eyes fill with curiousity. Their hair almost blending together. "Why not ask me what you really want to know?" he asked, scratching the cat.
"And what would that be?" he asked.
"It was... I was 13."
"Oh," he said, taken aback, again. "Oh my god." Realization hit him hard in the stomach. The same age as his daughter when she was killed. He couldn't think of it. Unsettled, he poured himself a shot and slammed it down his throat. "Shit."
He let out a small derisive smirk. "For all your apparent worldliness, I still managed to shock you. Don't be so dismayed. Kids on the street... happens all the time." A faraway look glazed his eyes. "All the time," he whispered lost in a memory. He blinked away the fog of memories and plastered on a fake smile. "That pizza smells lovely. Let's eat!"
Grant hadn't gotten so far up the corporate ladder by not recognizing insincerity when he saw it, but he chose to ignore it for now by smiling weakly with a small shake of his head, incrediously. He dropped the pizza box down on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the sofa. "Help yourself, kid. I ate earlier, so it's pretty much all yours." He restrained a chuckle as the young man's eyes lit up.
He brought the box up to sit on his thighs. Clay inhaled two slices of pizza before slowing down and taking the time to savor it. He still felt a little self-conscious and tried not to look at the handsome man sitting beside him. After placing the almost empty box down, he put the crusts on the floor for Moon to chow down on. He giggled when the kitten batted at his fingers when he pretended to take it away.
"So what's the deal with that cat, anyway?" he asked curiously, leaning back with half a glass of booze. He swirled the ice cubes around idlly, thinking it'd been a very long time since he'd indulged in so much alcohol, or had anyone to talk frankly with, for that matter.
"Moon?" His hair fell over his eyes, veiling them as he shrugged. "Not much," he said nonchalantly. "She happened to find me one day and has been following me ever since.
"I see. I would say she was your guardian angel, except for the fact she almost got you killed tonight."
"Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. Besides... you could've just let the truck hit me." Suddenly he was looking straight into Grant's pale, intense eyes. "It would've been one less kid on the street to worry about and no one would've missed me, anyway. You did not have to save me."
Grant lifted his hand to touch the boy's face, but hesitated. His hand was hovering mid-air between them. "Don't say that. Please." His hand fell back on his lap. "Life is something that should be cherished." His mouth pulled with concern. The lights from the city drew his eyes. "You're so fucking young, Clay. You don't have to live out there alone." He looked back toward his unexpected guest.
He blinked his eyes rapidly. "It's almost as if you cared... 'scuse me!" He made a quick exit to the bathroom. He closed the door and leaned his head against it. Clay took deep breaths as the lump in his throat swelled. He wouldn't cry. He refused to cry. Not now... not ever again.
Grant jumped up and followed the boy. "Clay!" He knocked on the door softly. "Are you all right?" He wasn't used to affecting people so drastically. "Did I say something wrong?" His voice was soft and melodic; calming. The same tone he used for negotiating, in fact. "Clay?"
"One sec!" he called out shakily. He fished in his pocket for a cigarette but only came up with lint. "Just my luck..." Turning on the faucet, he splashed the icy water on his face, cooling the flush that stained his cheeks. Clay dried his face, and with another deep breath, opened the door slowly to face Grant.
"Okay?" He rested his hand on the shaking boy's shoulder. He walked a few steps to his jacket and reached into the inner pocket. "You need one of these?" He tapped out a cigarette. "I can't believe I'm offering an underaged kid one of these. But... I have an idea of how it is out there." He offered a small smile. "Come out to the balcony with me." He tucked the boy under his arm and guided him toward the sliding glass doors. He was surprised the top of the boy's head was level with his shoulder; one reason he had probably assumed the boy was older than he was.
"I'm not that young. I'm 15 now," he said, stepping out onto the balcony.
"Still underaged," he snorted with a bit of humor.
Clay took the offered cigarette, lit it and hopped up on the wall ledge. The sun was just setting, leaving the sky shimmering in a luminous glow. He sighed. "It's not often I see this. Usually by this time, I'm laid out in one of those pay by the hour hotels."
"God, Clay. You are worth far more than any one of those guys could ever pay you. And much too beautiful to be used that way." He lit his own cigarette to hide some embarrassment. "I just can't... I can't understand it." And he couldn't understand why there was an unexplainable feeling of protectiveness squeezing his chest. His brow creased.
Blushing, a real smile flitted across Clay's face. "You really think so? You're not so bad, yourself," he said teasingly.
"I said so. I usually mean what I say." He arched his eyebrow. Looking down at the white button-down and stylish tie he had loosened, he patted his firm stomach and laughed. "I do try." He knew the boy was flirting with him out of habit. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you like until I have to go back home," he offered, changing the subject to somewhat safer ground. The young man really was lovely. The fading sun lighting his hair like fire from behind, casting a blazing halo around his lean body. Grant had to drag his eyes away to keep from drinking in the sight of him leaning bonelessly, dangerously across the balcony wall.
He shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks," he murmured, the smile falling off his face. "Gotta make my money...," he said with feigned happiness. He ground the cigarette on the wall and hopped off the ledge. "You really are a good guy. Thanks for everything, but I must go now."
"I can't in good conscience let you go back out there and sell your body," he said emphatically. "If you need money, I can find work for you. I was thinking. I wouldn't mind having an assistant on this assignment. I'm negotiating a buy-out. They are being very hard-nosed about it. Having a few things being taken care of for me would take a lot off my mind." He wanted to grab the boy's arm and hold him back. "I... would you stay?" The loneliness he had ignored for so long grabbed his heart forcefully. He hadn't realized how much he desperately missed the companionship that existed seperate from work.
"I know nothing about that stuff..." he murmured. "What I do know is how to make a man come. Where to touch him that will have him howling in pleasure." Clay pushed Grant toward the sliding doors, until the man was pressed against it. "I know every button to press that will have him calling out my name. I know how to take him to the back of my throat. Know how to keep him coming back for more. This is what I do, this is what I am, Grant. I'm a whore. Plain and simple. You would do well to remember that."
Grant gasped. He was caught somewhere between horror and arousal. "I can't forget," he murmured softly. "It's just that... fuck it. Nevermind. I'm sorry. I thought..." He turned his face away, unsettled by the fact that this kid was getting under his skin. He'd never been this unravelled in all the years at Brackwood. "I wanted to..," he paused again. "I've been..." He heaved a sigh and gave up trying to explain himself to the kid who was so powerfully sure of his position in life. "I can really see you succeeding in something that really mattered," he said, voice regaining some of his usual passionate self-assuredness.
Clay stood on his tiptoes bringing them face to face. "And have I succeeded? In seducing you...?" he whispered, his eyes trained on the man's mouth. In all the time he'd been a whore, he had never allowed another individual to kiss him. And the fact that he was fantasizing about it now, rocked him to his very core.
He wasn't fully aware of the space slowly closing between their lips. "You know what I meant," he breathed, noses almost touching, drowning in those eyes yet again. "Stay with me. I can teach you... things." Of their own accord, his hands rose slowly up the boy's arms and held him gently above the elbows. "It would be my pleasure. Stay with me. Please."
Clay reacted. He closed the remaining space between them, bringing their lips together explosively. He teased the other man's lips open expertly, tasting him, before pulling back. "Say it again. Please?" he whispered.
The usually sombre businessman bit back a moan. "Stay with me. Don't leave." He felt himself flushing. How long had it been since he last indulged in a kiss? No matter it was from a kid... an underaged boy prostitute. No matter that he could be fired, jailed for it. All these things whipped out of his mind as his belly tightened painfully. Too many long years, he realized, as he pulled the boy in to ravish his sweet, yet experienced mouth again. Too long alone. He lost himself in the pleasurable sensations for a moment before he pulled back. "Clay," he murmured, choking on the rarely experienced passion. "I really can't be with you this way... I could be fired. All that I've worked so hard for..." He cupped his face tenderly, brushing his thumb across kiss-plumped lips. "...would be gone."
"Don't... just don't..." the boy whispered. "Just lemme... just let me feel you a bit. One night. Please?" Clay was astonished about the words flowing from his mouth. He never begged before. He placed his hands on Grant's chest and glided them up to circle his arms around the man's neck. "Just for a little while..." he whispered against his lips.
"If I let this thing happen, I will never want to let you go." He acknowledged he didn't want to now, but he was negotiating even in this. "I couldn't bare the thought of anyone else touching you," he said against Clay's lips, wrapping his arms around his waist to press him more tightly against him. "Come to work for me... never let them hurt you again." He was whispering low in the boy's ear, breath hot in that perfect shell.
He shivered as Grant's warm breath caressed his ear. "Grant..." he whimpered. "I want you." He brushed his hand down to the bulge in the man's pants. "Let me have you..." He squeezed his hand, loving the feel of it.
He groaned, leaning his forehead against the boy's shoulder for a moment as a shudder ran through him at the contact. He lifted his head to press his lips against Clay's soft neck, the scent of the boy was a light floral with a hint of smoke; Grant inhaled deeply, taking it in. Savoring the sensuality of it. He was not going to rush. "I have your promise not to leave later? Or take off in the morning? Or even two weeks from now? I need your word on it," his voice was husky. Raw from lust.
Long moments, Clay didn't say anything. Finally, he nodded. "I promise... Now let me do something about this," he said teasingly, dropping to his knees. He made short work of the man's trousers. Freeing Grant's cock from his boxer briefs, Clay stopped to admire it. Its length, the width, the feel of it in his hand. Then he took the head into his mouth sucking it in.
"Oh. Fuck," he said, voice exquisite agony. He threw his head back and cracked it sharply against the glass. "Oww! Shit!" He rubbed the back of his head with a self-depreciating laugh.
He snorted out of laugh, even as he took him deeper into his mouth. Then no words were needed. Slowly, he bobbed up and down the length of him, making love to him with his mouth. Clay took his time, mapping out the contours of his gorgeous cock. As he ran his tongue along the under side of it, he cupped Grant's balls in his hand. He massaged them, kneading gently, reverently.
"Oh, god. Clay...," he moaned his name. He couldn't remember feeling this good in his life. He flattened his hands out against the glass, hips thrusting forward of their own accord. The feel of Clay's hot mouth around his shaft, laving it with his mobile tongue was almost too much. He watched the boy work his cock and about lost it. "Clay... I can't last," he gasped out between clenched teeth. "It's been too long since I..," he panted out.
Clay only sucked him in deeper. taking all of him in, giving him his permission. Kneading his lover's balls harder, he increased the suction of his mouth, wanting the prize that was there.
"S-s-stop... not yet..," he pleaded, the fire in his groin making his voice grate. He felt the pressure building almost intolerably. Although he wasn't sure what it was exactly that he wanted, he knew it was more than a quick blow-job. His pale blue eyes seeking contact with Clay's deeper blue ones, he tried communicating his desire for something more with a glance. Clay found his eyes through lowered lashes. He looked so provocative down on his knees, Grant's cock in his mouth, the lust in those hunger-glazed eyes. "Oh fuck," was all the warning he could give before he shot his load.
Clay milked him for all he was worth. Still kneading the flesh, he kept sucking until he was sure not a drop remained. Slowly, he released him, pulling back and sitting on his hunches. He looked up at his lover, licking his lips with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
His knees felt weak and he wanted to sag to the ground. "Clay..," he wasn't sure what to say. "I... I've not done this kind of thing before. With a boy... man... before." He felt out of his element, yet he couldn't keep his lips from pulling up into a contented smile. He reached his hand down to pull the young man up. He had a strong, sudden desire to taste those full lips again.
Rising gracefully, he wasted no time in wrapping himself around Grant, kissing him. Their tongues twined together in a wicked dance, as Clay gave Grant a taste of his own come. Moaning, he pulled back. "Nothing to it... like learning to ride a bike..." he murmured against his lips.
He moaned into the kiss, gripping Clay tightly against himself. He wanted this. The realization nearly sufficated him. The need for human contact repressed for so long, he gasped against the feeling of being overwhelmed. He hugged his lover all the more tightly, desperate for the contact. "I want to do something for you, now," he said hesitantly, nuzzling the boy's neck, peppering him with small kisses.
"You don't have to," he whispered, nipping at Grant's bottom lip. He couldnt' bring himself to stop touching him. "God... you're so..." He couldn't even finish what he wanted to say. "Let's go inside."
"Yes, let's." He stepped out of pants and lifted the boy into his arms, suddenly, making Clay squeak. He laughed as he carried him to the bedroom and set him down at the foot of the king sized bed. He touched Clay's face gently, smoothing blond locks out of his eyes. "You are so beautiful..," his voice thick with emotion. He leaned down and kissed him slowly, passionately, lingering.
Clay moaned, pressing up against him tightly. "Grant..." he whispered, breathlessly. "... what are you doing to me?" His heart was racing, his pulse erratic, a shiver wracked his body, and he swallowed with difficulty against the lump in his throat. "I can't think." He pressed his erection against Grant. "Help me?"
Grant took Clay's hands into his own and walked him around to the side of the bed. He didn't know what he was doing, just there was a deep need to be with this kid who seemed to need him just as badly. He sat back into the bed, leading Clay to do the same. "I'm not sure what to do..." He was kissing him again, sliding his hands up his lover's shirt, lifting it over his head. He moaned at the softness of his skin. There was no way he was ever going to get enough.
"Well... this is a start..." he whispered with need as Grant brushed against his nipples. Clay had never known his body to be so sensitive. Clay kissed him again, tiny, worshipping kisses. "I knew there was something about you when I saw you get out of your car," he continued to whisper. He wrapped his arms around Grant's neck and laid down, pulling his love down on top of him.
"Mmm," Grant hummed in the back of his throat. He bent his head to place a soft kiss on each of Clay's peaked nipples. "You saw me arrive here?" he asked in a low murmur. Gliding his hand down to work the fastner of the blond's belt, he timidly licked at the rosey buds he'd been kissing; first one then the other. He looked up to gauge Clay's reaction.
He hissed almost painfully, arching his back into the touch. Moaning, he tightened his hold on Grant's shoulders. "You were... hard to miss..." he gasped out. His whole body vibrated with need. "...please..."
Grant smiled as he opened the flap of his lover's skin tight pants to reveal he didn't wear any underwear; his cock sprung free. "Tell me," he said as he touched the silken shaft timorously. Closing his fingers around the moderate length; he moaned, desire choking him. He kissed his way back up to those addictive lips, stroking Clay's dick in a slow rhythm.
He let out a throaty groan, shivering. "You were tall... almost majestic in the way you held yourself... as if the world was nothing but your empire..." He arched his back, holding onto him tightly. "I couldn't look away... you were- are... beautiful to behold," he gasped out, opening his navy blue eyes.
"Then you threw yourself into traffic to get my attention." The older man chuckled. He stared into those silently pleading eyes, so full of passion. "And now you're here with me," he murmured, continuing to stroke Clay's cock reverantly. "So lovely," Grant sighed, his own cock beginning to stir again.
"...Please... I need..." he gasped out. "...I need you... in me. Please?" Clay pleaded desperately, spreading his legs wantonly.
"Oh, god," Grant gasped, his cock filled completely at those words. "I... I'm not, um, prepared. I don't even know how to..." He pressed his forehead against Clay's shoulder, somewhat embarrassed. His hair fell across his face. "Clay... show me. Show me how to make you feel good," he panted out.
Clay took Grant's hand into his own. Staring up into his eyes, he turned the hand over and kissed his open palm. Slowly, he took Grant's forefinger into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. He guided the hand down his body and to his entrance. "It's pretty self explanatory..." he whisped seductively.
Grant slowly pushed his wet finger to the first knuckle. "So hot..." He pressed deeper into Clay's waiting body and moaned into his neck as he felt his finger be drawn in. "Oh, fuck..," he gasped. He fingered the boy's ass with slow steady strokes, relishing the tight heat. "I need you..," he rasped out, the burning in his groin agonizing.
"More... give me more..." he panted out. "You don't have to be gentle..." He wrapped his slim legs around Grant's waist. "Wait..." he gasped, moaning in disappointment. "One sec..." He moved till he was able to reach his shoes on the ground. He rummaged around till he produced four small plastic packets.
"Good thinking," Grant grunted as Clay squirmed beneath him. He tore a foil open with his teeth, his eyes devouring the young man as he did so. He pressed the rubber tube over his shaft as he bent to taste his lover's lips again. He felt trim legs wrap back around his waist, pulling him eagerly downward.
"Do it... please...?" he begged, against his lips.
Obligingly, Grant fisted his cock and clumsily found that sweet entrance. "Uuuhh!" he gritted out as he pressed the head in. "Oh sweet fuck..." He bowed his head again, back arching as he steadily pressed in. "Clay..," he gasped, completely sheathed in Clay's ass. The world pinpointed to the feel of that tight heat around his cock, squeezing him, and angelic body moving beneath him.
His mouth fell open as his lover finally pushed in. "Oh... my...." he moaned, tightening his legs around his waist. "You're so... big...." he moaned appreciatively. He had said those words before... over and over in fact, but never once had he meant them. He'd never been so filled.
Grant moved, then. Pulling back with grim determination, he paused for a second before thrusting back in. His hips jerking forward of their own volition. It'd been so long since he'd felt this good. He found his rhythm, like the beating of their hearts. He caught Clay's eyes and lost himself completely as he fucked the boy thoroughly.
Clay gasped, losing himself in the pleasures his lover was bestowing on him. He reached between their bodies and grasped his own cock. He began fisting his cock in time with the powerful thrusts.
"Ahh... so fucking... tight... S'good. Clay... uhh... come for me. I can't... take much more," Grant panted out, his balls slapping his lover's smooth ass as he drove forward hard and deep; trying to hold out for him.
He began fisting his cock faster as he tightened his spincter around Grant's cock. He threw his head back in a silent yell, coming violently.
Grant very nearly shouted as Clay tightened around his thrusting cock. Tightened hard. A long moan errupted from between his parted lips. Clay shuddering under him, he bent to capture those full lips again. Mouths moving brutally against each other, hot with unbridled lust, Grant wrapped his arms fully around his lover, slammed hard into him twice more and came. His orgasm nearly blacking him out. He threw his head back, gasping for breath as his cock continued to pulse. "Holy shit...," he groaned.
Clay moaned, a little disappointed. He wanted to feel Grant bathing his insides with his hot seed. He held onto the older man on top of him and kissed him deeply.
The older man reluctantly broke the kiss and rolled slightly off the boy. Head propped up on his hand, he smiled softly at his beautiful lover. "Clay... I..." He felt he should say something. There was no denying the physical attraction that fired sparks between them. "...thank you," he finished lamely. Brackwood's top negotiator and he was at a loss for words. He cupped Clay's face gently, wishing he could articulate feelings he himself couldn't fully identify.
He nodded wordlessly. And indeed, no words were really needed. Clay curled up on his side, facing Grant. Nuzzling his head against Grant's chest, he took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of his lover. "No...," he murmured finding his voice, "thank you."
Grant pulled him in the circle of his arms more tightly and kissed the top of his head. So many years alone. And a boy whore to show him, again, how to feel. "Stay...," he whispered. "Stay with me always."
Clay went still. Several seconds passed before he nodded. "I'll try. It's all I can promise...," he whispered.
It was no more than anyone could do, Grant supposed. Two strangers, each carrying their own burdens, tossed together by chance. "It's all any of us can do," he said speaking his thoughts aloud. He smiled, then. "I'd say these negotiations are complete."
He grinned into Grant's sexy chest. "Maybe we should seal the deal...," he said as he climbed on top of his lover and kissed him soundly.
The End
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