Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma, Consensual, Romantic, Gay, Light Bond, First, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Slow, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Thrown together by their parents' marriage, Adrian and Drake find that there's more than just family feeling between them.
Drake stared into the sullen embers of the hearth, his fingers drumming out a slow, measured rhythm on the arm of the sofa. One, two, three. One, two, three. It was an echo of his irritation. The formal dinner with his stepmother and her children had been a nightmare, a lavish affair that his mother would have hated. Despite the fact that it was her money that had built his father's empire, she had never given a good goddamn about the trappings of wealth. From the amount of jewelry dripping from Clarissa's angular form tonight, she did. Her two daughters, at fourteen and sixteen, were annoying little copies of their pretentious mother. Her son, Adrian, was an entirely different story.
Ah yes, Adrian. Therein lay the crux of Drake's frustration. Clarissa's oldest child had the golden good looks of a fallen angel, and the charm to match. Like Drake, he had ignored the heavy hints from his mother and Drake's father about tonight's dinner being a formal occasion, showing up in jeans that hugged his body like a lover's gaze and a grey silk shirt that made his remarkable storm-colored eyes even more striking. Beneath a careless, wavy mass of golden hair, his not-so-innocent eyes had followed Drake's every move, filled with uncertain attraction.
It was an unusual feeling for Drake to be uncomfortable around a young, available, obviously attracted man, but Adrian unnerved him. Something in those deep grey eyes spoke directly to his soul of depthless, frightening passion, but also of complete loss of self-control. Most of the men he'd flirted, or done more, with were every bit as cynical and jaded as himself, accustomed to coaxing a standard response out of his body and their own. Adrian had the untried look of a great racehorse going down to start his first race, the explosive power and stamina there, but banked until it could flare into flame. Uncomfortably, Drake shifted and reached for the wineglass on the side table. The tawny port burned a sweet, smoky trail down his throat as he swallowed.
A light, staccato tap drew his eyes to the door. As though summoned by his thoughts, Adrian leaned against the door jamb, a crooked smile on his lips.
"What do you want?" Drake grumbled. Adrian laughed, the sound as rich and dark as the port in Drake's glass.
"I thought I'd come talk to you, get to know you better, seeing as how we're practically related now," he drawled. "And I really hate drinking alone." He moved his hand out from his side, revealing the bottle of Ballantine's he'd been carrying. Drake scowled, even as his irritation gave way to grudging amusement, and motioned the other young man further into the bedroom.
"Well, don't stand there lurking," he said. "Come in and close the door. I don't bite." He stopped, considering for the moment it took Adrian to close the door, and then smiled wolfishly. "Unless you ask me to, of course."
Adrian glanced over his shoulder before crossing the room to take a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, his clear gaze coming back to Drake's amused countenance.
"You know, I almost believe you would," he joked nervously. Drake merely smiled more widely and stretched lazily, curling his bare toes into the thick pile of the rug.
"Mmm, of course I would. Isn't that why you followed me upstairs?" Smirking, Drake watched the boy to see if he would run or brave it out.
"Maybe," Adrian said, his eyes sliding away from Drake to the fireplace. "But I thought it would be kind of ridiculous to come upstairs and just jump you." Drake chuckled and passed a cut glass tumbler from the table to Adrian, and poured more port in his own glass. With the warmth from the fire without and the warmth from the alcohol within, he felt relaxed and just a little reckless.
"Well, in the interest of strengthening family ties," he said suggestively. "Consider me your willing servant." Adrian laughed again and shook his head, sipping his Scotch.
"Since I don't really have any family ties in the first place, that is quite an offer," he said somberly.
"I see. Another black sheep?" Adrian shrugged, nodding his acquiesiance with a wry smile. "Well, I guess we have to stick together," Drake continued, picking up his wineglass. They sat quietly, watching the fire and making idle comparisons of the newly blended family for a few minutes longer, while Drake waited impatiently for Adrian to make a move. Finally, he stood up in frustration, stripping off his lightweight linen shirt and tossing it over the back of a nearby chair.
"You know, Adrian, I was eventually planning on going to bed. Why don't you just come on out and say whatever it is you wanted when you came up here?"
Adrian stared at Drake's bare chest, his eyes slightly unfocused from the Scotch, and smiled lazily, tossing back a heavy sheaf of wheat-gold hair.
"Well, what did you have in mind, Drake?" he asked softly. He was staring, and knew it, but didn't much care. Drake's half-naked body was tall and slender, like a finely tempered tool. It was his fantasies come to life; with shoulders almost too broad for such a narrow body, and a chest sheathed in the kind of hard, flat muscle that only comes from heavy physical labor. The black leather pants he had appeared in had scandalized his mother, but they framed the long legs and narrow hips perfectly, to Adrian's way of thinking. With his thick, blue-black hair pulled back into a ponytail and his arms folded over his magnificent chest, Drake looked like a romance novel pirate come to life.
"Christ. You really can't say it, can you?" With a wry chuckle, Adrian shook his head and looked away. With a muttered curse, Drake moved back to the couch and straddled his lap, placing a knee to either side of his hips and settling his weight comfortably on the other man's lap. He rested his wrists lightly on Adrian's shoulders, his long, work-calloused fingers playing with the strands of blond hair that fell down Adrian's back.
"Well?" he asked mockingly. "Is this what you wanted?" Carefully, Adrian reached out to set his Scotch glass on the table and brought his hands down to rest lightly on Drake's hips. This close, he could see the metallic golden flecks in Drake's amber eyes, and the resemblance to the beautiful black-haired woman in the portraits downstairs. He wasted a few moments just absorbing the look of the man in his lap. His face, despite the sharp planes and angles, was almost too pretty to be masculine. His lips were too shapely, the lower lip just a little too full, his eyes too wide and framed in impossibly long, thick black eyelashes. Only the fact that his tall, slender body was so blatantly male saved him from being effeminate.
"It's closer," he admitted softly. His fingers tightened on the slick, fragrant leather and pulled Drake more firmly against his body. "But this is even better." Drake's lips quirked into that wicked, knowing smile as he dipped his head to lay a light kiss on Adrian's lips.
"And that?" he teased. Adrian shook his head at the sudden playful turn this encounter had taken. Sliding his palms carefully up the hard, smooth flesh of Drake's ribcage and back, he found the band holding that silky black hair back and pulled. It tumbled free with a sound like softly falling rain and a wave of sandalwood scent. Greedily, he buried his fingers in the thick, heavy strands, his fingers massaging Drake's scalp lightly.
"It could be better," he murmured, using his grip of Drake's head to tug his head down. He slanted his mouth across those pretty lips and kissed him, slowly, exploring and savoring the taste of port and Drake's lust. His hands slid down to cradle the other man's face, and he could feel the faint scratchiness of beard growth. Part of his brain, the part not completely lost in the simple pleasure of a really good kiss, wondered what it would feel like against his skin. Reluctantly, he pulled back and looked at Drake, who smiled back at him, his eyes filled with lazy warmth.
"Hmmm. I think you were right, Adrian. That was better." His voice had taken on a sleepy, sensual purr, and his body settled more comfortably into the curve of Adrian's. With a soft chuckle, Adrian ran his hand up Drake's back and shook his head.
"Much better. Unfortunately, that's about as far as my experience goes."
Drake raised an eyebrow and shook his head.
"I find that very hard to believe. Virgins don't kiss like that."
Adrian smirked and shrugged.
"Then I must be something special," he replied, smugly. "Because the most I've ever done is a little kissing and groping." Mischievously, he moved his hands lower, kneading the firm backside planted so comfortably in his lap, molding it against him, putting pressure on his rising cock. "Although I'd be more than happy to rectify that problem," he grinned.
Laughing, Drake moved back, off his lap. Looking the blond over, he smiled to himself. The little voice in the back of his head, the one with the pitchfork and the barbed tail was jumping up and down, shouting "mine, all mine!" with glee. Even his much-abused and often-ignored conscience was agreeing with that sentiment, although he doubted it was his guardian angel feeding him those mental pictures of Adrian's naked body sprawled across the bearskin rug in the downstairs study.
He kept his eyes on Adrian's face as he knelt between his legs, laying his cheek down against the denim-covered thigh and looking up the line of that well-built, muscled body into those cloudy eyes. His smile was a blend of sweetness, joy, and a dark knowledge he hadn't quite earned yet. His warm breath fanned lightly along Adrian's hip through the material, his hands running idly up and down the muscled calves. He curved his fingers around those long legs, feeling the softness of the jeans, washed thin from being worn so often, and the tiny, involuntary spasms that followed his fingers when they touched a particularly erogenous spot.
Adrian let his head fall back against the sofa, his eyes, under heavy lids, watching the dark boy with a feverish glitter. A delicate flush rose along his cheekbones, beneath the healthy tan that came from being young and outdoors. Drake suddenly remembered his father telling him that Adrian had been quarterback for his varsity team at St. Francis. The thought of Adrian in the locker room showers, trying to keep his gaze off the other players lest his traitorous body give away his secret, made him smile a little wistfully. He'd been that way once, trying to keep his reputation, his family's reputation, impeccable, dating girls, pretending he wasn't left entirely cold by their kisses and caresses. Then his mother had died, and image suddenly didn't mean a thing.
As though sensing his sudden mood swing, Adrian reached for him, smoothing the tangle of dark hair that had fallen over his eyes out of the way. Those long, blunt-tipped fingers that close to his mouth were just too tempting, and Drake caught his hand, stroking his own fingers over the palm, around the fingers, tracing the lines on the firm, resilient skin. When Adrian's attention was firmly focused on his hands, which were beginning to tingle with the unusual amount of attention bestowed upon them, he leaned forward and slid his tongue along the underside of the thumb. With a gasped curse, Adrian spasmed against the cushions, missing the blatantly evil grin that crossed Drake's lips, before he opened them and sucked the finger into his mouth.
His eyes on Adrian's face, Drake commenced a slow, languorous exploration of the ball of his thumb, using his tongue and teeth, nibbling and licking and stroking, mimicking what he planned to do to other parts of Adrian's body later. When Adrian was gasping, his jeans straining over the bulge at the crotch, Drake pulled back, kissing the tip of the thumb lightly. Adrian collapsed with a sigh of relief, only to stifle a scream when Drake unhurriedly moved on to his index finger.
"God, Drake, stop!" Adrian's free hand came up and fisted painfully in Drake's hair. Purring in satisfaction, Drake let go of the digit and set back on his heels, turning his face back against Adrian's thigh with a self-satisfied smile, his eyes shining with laughter.
"Was it that bad?" he asked innocently. Adrian looked at him, open-mouthed and panting, his eyes shimmering with jewel tones and lust. Still breathless, he managed a shaky laugh and shook his head wordlessly. Drake's smile widened and he turned his head just a fraction, setting his teeth into the firm flesh of Adrian's thigh through the jeans. His back bowed and he groaned in reaction. Slowly, Drake pulled back again, drawing his teeth along the fabric in a slow, agonizing slide, avidly noting every helpless writhe and whimper the action elicited.
"Well, what a pleasant surprise," he said softly. Golden eyes met smoky grey and he smirked. "You've got a bit of a pain slut in you somewhere, boy." Adrian's voice was husky from a lack of breath when he replied.
"Took you long enough to figure that out."
Drake moved up in a liquid spill of movement to settle himself back on Adrian's lap, giving his hips a wicked little twist. Adrian's eyes squeezed closed and he gritted his teeth against the friction. He wasn't quite sure yet whether he was in pain or experiencing a rare pleasure. When he opened his eyes Drake was watching him, that wicked smile still on his lips and the firelight making golden ripples on his disheveled hair.
"It didn't take me that long, you know," he stated calmly. "I haven't gotten you out of your clothes yet." He chuckled when Adrian's erection twitched and throbbed beneath him. Adrian looked Drake up and down and smiled, spreading his arms across the back of the couch in a gesture of helpless surrender.
"You've got me pinned. Do as you like." Drake just smiled and began opening the buttons on the grey dress shirt. Pinned, well, no; for sheer size and weight, Adrian had him outclassed. But nicely compromised, he'd admit to. He trailed his fingers carefully through the patch of golden hair that showed through the half-unbuttoned shirt. It felt crisp, the curls springy under his touch. He had to slide back a bit to finish unbuttoning the shirt over the flat, muscled stomach, savoring Adrian's inarticulate whimper when the movement increased the friction over his groin again. He leaned forward to peel the shirt off the broad, tanned shoulders.
Adrian took advantage of the movement to nibble lightly along the cord of his neck, and Drake drew in a hissing breath, freezing in place. Adrian's laughter rumbled against his skin, sending a line of gooseflesh down his spine. Reluctantly, the blond drew back and allowed Drake to slide the silk off his shoulders. With complete disregard for the fine fabric, Drake threw it across the room and ran his hands down the smooth skin of his arms. Impatiently, Adrian slid his own hands around Drake's back and pulled him down for a long, deep kiss.
Damn, but the boy could kiss. Drake could feel the edges of the world blurring into a soft, furry haze from the sheer thrill of being kissed this way, like he was rare, and precious, worth taking the time to savor. The moment narrowed and crystallized into the slick play of tongue against tongue, and the unhurried exploration of each other's mouths. Before there had been urgency, but now it felt like time would stand still for as long as they liked, as long as they kept kissing. When they finally did pull back, Adrian took a deep breath and laughed.
"That..." his voice trailed off huskily, and Drake chuckled himself.
"Was incredible? Yeah, I agree."
Adrian just smiled and leaned his forehead into Drake's shoulder. He fit there, between the delicate curve and sweep of collarbone and the swell of muscles in chest and shoulder, like he had been carved to match. The whisper of stubble on his cheek drew an unfamiliar ripple of sensation along the skin and Drake shivered lightly. Adrian shifted slightly underneath him and made a small sound.
The sound was irresistible. He bent far enough to put his lips against Adrian's neck. At first he just breathed against the bare skin, inhaling the scent of soap and some sweet, woodsy cologne, and the sunshine and fresh air scent that was only Adrian's. When that pulled a sigh from him, he opened his mouth and began to taste him, carefully, light flickering kisses, slow, barely-there sweeps of the tongue. Adrian twisted and struggled beneath him, not to get away, just to expose more of his throat to Drake's tongue and lips. Drake smiled against his skin, and felt Adrian swallow a curse. He sank his teeth into the firm, tanned flesh, feeling it bunch and give beneath his grip as Adrian's body thrashed beneath him. He pulled back, soothing the abused skin with gentle, open-mouthed kisses.
"Drake..." There was a thread of hesitancy in his voice, the lightest shading of panic. He fisted his hands in that thick golden hair and tugged the other boy's face up to look him in the eyes. Those smoky blue-grey eyes were wide and shell-shocked, glazed with lust and fear. It softened him, made him speak more gently than he might have.
"I'll only go as far as you want to," he promised. Adrian laughed, a strangled, desperate sound, and his hands tightened on Drake's leather clad hips. He shook his head and cleared his throat before he could speak.
"I don't want to stop," he began. "But if you keep doing that..." He paused, swallowed, and averted his gaze. Drake frowned at the almost inaudible murmur.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't hear that, and I think I needed to." Adrian flushed beautifully, a rush of dull color turning his cheekbones bronze in the firelight.
"I should go," Adrian gasped, suddenly panicked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
"It's all right," Drake said smoothly, his face transitioning from amused lust to pleasant neutrality in an instant. He slipped out of Adrian's reach with a graceful shrug and smiled with empty eyes. "Things can get out of hand when you're drinking. I already told you, I'm not in the business of throwing myself at someone who doesn't want me."
That wasn't the problem, Adrian thought miserably as he fumbled to his feet and towards the door. The problem is I don't think I could ever stop wanting you.
"Well, this sucks," Drake said to the empty room. He stripped out of the remainder of his clothes with efficient motions and tossed them in a heap at the foot of the bed. The empty expanse of blue and gold damask seemed to mock him, and he swore softly, stalking naked and still aroused into the bathroom. He didn't bother with the light as he closed the door, reaching through the inky gloom to flip the shower on.
He stepped into the lukewarm water with a shudder and reached for the tap, turning up the heat. He had no intention of reducing himself to cold showers over beautiful cockteases when he could just as easily take care of things himself. He leaned on his hands into the spray, letting the hot water sluice over his head and down his back in the dark, his prick aching and throbbing with every heartbeat. The body wash felt cool against his palm, filling the steamy air with a rich, spicy scent that pleased his senses as his slippery hands slowly traveled over his own skin. His fingers wrapped tightly around his erection, squeezing impatiently against the straining flesh. He circled the base with the forefinger and thumb of one hand, holding the skin taut as he stroked with the other hand. Brisk, almost painful strokes, torturing the sensitive flesh with the calloused pads of his fingers, the roughness of his palm. It almost hurt, and he took a deep breath, forced himself to slow down.
He let go of his cock with the circling fingers and used his hand to brace himself against the wall again, fondling himself gently. He stroked his thumb across the engorged head and thought of how Adrian's mouth would look wrapped around it, those pink lips wet and swollen from kisses, gleaming with the first pearly drops of come and his own saliva- a shudder ran through him that had nothing to do with the water and he slid his hand along himself, squeezing and slipping on the soapy skin.
A low groan found its way from his lips as he thought about his beautiful new obsession, stretched wanton and willing on his sheets, of the sweet scent of his hair and the smooth, warm skin of his shoulders and chest. He wondered what his dick would taste like, nestled in his mouth, how it would feel plunging down his throat, if his come would be salty and bitter or sweet and thick. His balls tightened and tingled and he gasped as his climax spilled in a scalding wave over his fingers, onto the porcelain to be rinsed away down the drain. His hand moved half-heartedly as his cock as it softened, milking the last dregs of the fantasy into an empty void of exhaustion.
He finished his shower quickly and padded back to his lonely bed, determined not to dream of golden hair and tanned skin.