Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. The characters herein are based on real people, but the words and events are completely made up. They are not intended to be mistaken for fact, and no libel is intended.
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It was their last night together, and they had spent the evening dancing shirtless in the middle of a crowd. Pietro had been drunk, wild and uncoordinated, moving like a whirl in the crowd, who parted for him like water.
The end of the holiday was at hand. With it, the end of the bright Mediterranean Sea blazing blue against the whitewashed walls of his bungalow. With it also came the end of them, whatever they were. He had lost track of the definition after a week. Were they short term lovers? Buddies? A teacher and a student?
Ryan ruminated on it as he shouldered Pietro across the narrow streets of Santorini. He guessed he been a teacher of sorts. He had taught the man how to be... How to be made love to in a different way than he was accustomed to.
And much to his chagrin what he had done throughout the week was making love, rather than just fucking.
Ryan did not usually have time for making love. He was man who fucked, effectively and hard. Who played with the body of his willing partners and brought them to unexpected heights of pleasure.
But with Pietro... He hadn't just bent him over and railed him like a slut, despite wanting to do so. He hadn't slapped that patrician face with his hard dick dripping in spit and slime after hours of sensual, forceful, throat fucking. The powerplay of domination and submission that made Ryan's dick hard, that turned him from a man into a sinewy predator in the bars and clubs he stalked for prey had vanished as if by magic, with only one of Pietro's well-placed smiles.
Ryan had, instead, adored him.
From Pietro's well-turned ankle, to the fleshy rise of the nipples. From the smooth skin of his testicles to the delicate shell of his ear. Ryan had explored his alabaster skin. Watched it grow golden as they made love in his tiny patio, when the sun was brightest - heedless of potential onlookers and passers-by.
Ryan had committed all details to memory. He had made a three-dimensional map of memories of that perfect body, from tongue feeling alone.
He had also humbled Pietro. But -- and he realised with a certain dread -- not to cater to his own pleasure. To cater to his. Only by breaking his pride, could he have been disarmed to enjoy pleasure he was receiving in its entirety. If he had been a poet, he would have said that he was breaking the god to bring forward the human. That pleasure always tastes better when it's something that is sought, rather than just received.
But he wasn't, so he didn't.
Ryan could remember that moment. It was day 3. Pietro was seated in his chair naked. The shadow of slats in the window criss-crossed his sweaty body. He had opened his legs languorously, looking at him under heavy lashes.
He had been servicing Pietro for two full days by then. And servicing had been the word for it. Servicing and worship. Reading the lowering of lashes. The movement of his hands. The swelling of his cock and the twitch of the round mounds of his ass. He could recognize when he was asking for more. Wordlessly. Always wordlessly.
As Pietro shifted under the sun, Ryan noticed that his dick had hardened. It was still coated with remnants of dry spit and pre-cum. His hole, which he displayed without shame, was still slightly gaped. Glazed with lube and Ryan's come. It twitched.
Ryan had used every single trick in his arsenal - his mouth, his ass, his cock, his hands - to see Pietro's face contorted in ecstasy. To see his marble body flushed, his nipples perked up, his muscles glistening with sweat as he shot milky loads in every available surface. To make him moan. Not just lie there and take it but push back. Take more dick in.
Before he even realised what he was doing, Ryan had asked it.
- What do want?
Pietro's face was puzzled for a second and Ryan understood why. It's hard for a god to understand petty mortal concerns such as asking.
As a way of answering he had licked his lips. He had smiled. He opened his legs even further, wincing, He must have been sore after the previous night's fuck, in the floor next to the bed. And the one in the morning standing in the shower... And the lazy make out session that followed in which they have shared Pietro's creamy load in a sticky kiss, as Ryan fingered him lazily. Ryan had kept his focus. There was an important lesson to be learned there.
- Use your words Pietro...
Pietro just flashed him a pearly smile and started flipping his dick. Picking up a bit of that tasty pre-cum and rubbing it on his own lips. He as a quick learner.
But Ryan was a teacher, and in his attitude Pietro, for all his god like demeanour was no different from the countless parade of beautiful men he had bedded. Men whose good looks had shielded them from having to be anything but receivers of the desire of others.
Picking up Pietro's briefs from the floor he threw them at him. He caught them in the air. Ryan looked him up and down leaning against the door frame. It was time enough to see him get regain his balance and cover the cock he had been feasting on and still made his mouth water.
He turned around and headed to the kitchen counting his paces. At the third, his voice stopped him.
- Fuck me...
Ryan turned around.
- What Pietro?
He let the underwear drop on the floor and slid down on the chair. His legs flexed, spread wide. He was displaying himself wantonly, like a man who wanted and needed to be taken. The sparse hairs on his body were on end, his eyes slightly fevered.
- Fuck me... Please... I need more.
Pietro blushed as each word spilled from his lips. Ryan's cock grew so fast that he almost went dizzy. He would never remember how he many steps he had taken from the door to the chair. He just remembered being there in a blink, his eyes locked in Pietro's. His mouth hungrily biting his plump lips. His arms lifting the strong muscles of his thighs back, until one of them was over his shoulder and the other circled loosely around his waist.
He slid in with sigh, as Pietro trembled under him. There was still lube there, there was still cum, but the skin was sensitised and raw. He had gasped in discomfort, but when Ryan tried to reach for the lube laying close by, the leg around his waist just wrapped around him firmly and pulled him in even deeper. Pietro's back arched like a cat', his eyes closed, his lips caught in his teeth.
The memory of that frenzied afternoon made him hard even now, as both hobbled back from a night of drinking
Yes, he had been his teacher. He had taught him to lick the ridge of Ryan's cock. To crave doing it. To ask for it. To open his ass to his cock without shame of his desire. To ride him with muscles straining. To ask the same of his teacher.
As the moon rose in the dark sky and he carried Pietro's inebriated body down the winding steps, to the small terraced house that had been home for a week, he wondered. That chance encounter between two people from such different universes couldn't possibly ever repeat itself. This was a possibly once in a lifetime chance. And the knowledge of that was like a dull ache.
He grabbed the smiling, loose body close to him and huddled him to a dark corner of the road. Ryan smelled his skin, his hair deeply. There was sweat and tequila, mixed with the salt of the sea.
Pietro opened his eyes and looked at him for a long moment. He then kissed him, opening himself up to him as he had been taught. Loose hipped and open shouldered. One leg snaking over Ryan's calf one, hand loosely in his hair.
His eyes were dark with desire.
Ryan knew the days they had together would become a blur, and a memory that would fade. The equivalent of walking into a church made of stained glass and filled with hypnotic clouds of incense: colourful, confusing, a never-ending treat to the senses.
But he would always remember this feeling.
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