Airie

Reijo stopped a hand’s length away from Dusan, looking him over.

“You do remember,” Reijo said, “that you promised to never try to hurt me?”

“Yes,” said Dusan, his uneasiness growing. “Do you remember that you promised the same thing?”

“Yes,” Reijo said, his eyes traveling along the lines of Dusan’s naked chest, then sliding lower, prompting Dusan to cover up with his pants that he still held in his hands. He reached out and brushed his knuckles against Dusan’s shoulder.

“Did you feel that?”

“Your touch? Of course,” Dusan said. “What’re you doing?”

“Do you feel… this?”

Reijo touched his arm, with an open palm this time, and Dusan felt a strange sensation shoot through his body. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the surprise and the unfamiliarity of it made him startle and step back.

“What’re you doing?” he repeated.

Not bothering with an answer, Reijo took another step, and placed his hand on Dusan’s naked chest.

“Just trying things,” he said.

Dusan’s body shuddered as the sensation spread outwards from where Reijo’s fingers touched his skin. He wasn’t sure what he felt, but his heart was suddenly beating harder, and his breathing was getting fast and shallow. He tried to back away from the touch again, but was stopped by the cold, hard surface of the boulder on top of which most of his clothes still lay.

“What’re you…”

“Should I stop?” said Reijo.

Stop what? Reijo wasn’t even doing anything, just keeping his hand on Dusan’s chest, and yet he had to be doing something, for Dusan could feel his whole body react in a range of ways. He felt hot, then cold, then hot again. A pleasurable feeling was beginning to fill him, a strange burning sensation, like the heat of a fever, only in a good way.

Reijo ran his fingers across Dusan’s chest—the briefest of contacts, yet the feeling of pleasure suddenly intensified. Dusan groaned, leaning with his back on the boulder, his knees suddenly weak.

“Should I stop?” Reijo said again.

“No. What’re you doing? Don’t stop.”

“Thought so,” Reijo said, his gaze sliding down, and when Dusan followed it, he was shocked at the sight of his own member standing hard and proud.

“As I said,” Reijo remarked, “it reacts to everything.”

Reijo seemed mesmerized, his lips slightly parted, his expression making Dusan wonder if he was, too, feeling some of it. His fingers moved again, brushing lightly against Dusan’s nipple. Dusan moaned as the tangle of sensations shifted down to his dick. He wasn’t sure for how long he could remain on his feet in such state, but he had to maintain the contact with Reijo, because it felt amazing. He was so hard it almost hurt, and he reached down instinctively, seeking release.

“No,” said Reijo, and Dusan’s hand stopped.

“Could you,” Dusan said, his voice coming out raspy, “could you touch me there?”

“There?” Reijo raised an eyebrow, glancing down. “No, that would be too much for you to handle. It’s for your own good, you see?”

“I must… I want to…” Dusan muttered, losing the last traces of thoughts in the rising heat of extasy filling his body and mind. He couldn’t take it any longer. He couldn’t let it stop. He would explode and die if it continued, and he would do that gladly, for right now, it seemed like it was worth it. He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Poor thing,” Reijo said. “That would be enough.”

He pressed his palm briefly to Dusan’s chest, and then removed it in a swift motion. Immediately, the release hit Dusan, making him arch his back against the stone and growl, before sliding down to the ground. He sat there, dumbfounded, his head empty, his body weak. He was only vaguely aware of Reijo crouching in front of him, eyeing him curiously.

“You’re quite sensitive,” Reijo said, “for someone who looks so tough.”

Dusan nodded, still not having quite recovered his power of speech.

“I hope I haven’t damaged you,” Reijo said, and Dusan shook his head violently in denial.

“Was this,” he managed at last, “that pleasure touch you mentioned?”

“A variation of it, yes,” said Reijo, sounding calculatedly bored.

“You mean, there’re other… variations?”

“A few.” Reijo smiled a bit. “I’m not sure you can handle them, though.”

“Could we… try?”

Reijo’s smile widened. “Perhaps some other time. Now, you’ll have to wash again. You’re sitting naked on the ground.”

“That’s fine,” said Dusan. “What… should I do in return? Could I… please you, somehow?”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” Reijo laughed, throwing his head back. “I appreciate the sentiment, but let’s just say that I only did that for the fun of seeing you lose your head like this.”

“How about… this?” Dusan leaned forward and, making use of Reijo sitting right in front of him, pecked him on the lips. When he retreated, Reijo remained in place, his eyebrows raised.

“What was that for?” he said. “That was gross.”

“That’s what we do after lovemaking,” Dusan said.

“We didn’t make love.”

“It felt like that to me.”

“Grosser still.” Slowly, Reijo wiped at his lips with the back of his hand. Now that Dusan could focus a little better, he could see that Reijo’s usual paleness was replaced by a slight blush. Whether it was the kiss or what he had done to Dusan earlier, Reijo had been affected by what had happened, even if he didn’t want to admit that.

“A kiss is just my way to show that I…” Dusan began, then paused in a search for an appropriate word. “That I like you,” he finished, awkwardly.

“I never saw you do this to that Mirche friend of yours. I bet you like him, too.”

“I…” He began, then paused. “Wait, does that mean that you’ve been watching me?”

“Sometimes.”

“It’s different with me and Mirche,” Dusan said. “He’s my friend, but…” He paused. “I just like you in a different way, all right?”

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