Date: Mon, 14 Apr 2003 23:03:09 +0800 From: paul sung Subject: The New Year 3 DISCLAIMER ========== This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2003 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males: - if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON. And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002 It was easy to see why I hated the man. Even just out of bed, James Sung looked good enough to eat. Glossy black hair tousled from sleep, his thickly lashed, dark brown eyes heavy-lidded, a shadow of stubble dusting his squared jaw and a hard, tight body that was a wondrous distillation of muscle, sinew and testosterone. Framed artistically against the plain white sheets of my bed with the early morning sunlight coming through my front windows, he looked like one of those impossibly good-looking men who belonged in sexy cologne ads and underwear catalogs. It wouldn't be the first time I felt like punching that stubbled jaw. Despite my protests, the bastard had seduced me, plied me with wine and fucked me against my office desk. Sure, I could have made a louder protest but then again I, John Sung, am a weak man. Faced with such temptation - and months of celibacy, how could I possibly resist? The first time had been brutal, almost animalistic and primeval as we fought and tangled our way through the remains of what used to be my office. After the initial fuck, I certainly couldn't be held responsible for what happened on the living room sofa, on my dining table and then twice on my bed. It was a wonder that we even made it back home. It was still early by his standards. James wasn't even half-awake yet and I could take my time to ogle his perfect physique without inviting comment. Lying facedown on one of my pillows, he lay prone giving me a great view of his magnificent bare back. His skin glowed like highly polished wood, smooth and unblemished except for a couple of red imprints held high on his sculpted shoulder where I'd put my mark on him the night before. His butt was a masterpiece all on its own and I ran my fingers down over it possessively, marvelling at the smooth, petal-soft skin overlying the hard curve of muscle. My roving fingers ventured down the deep, hairless seam separating the sweat-slicked globes and the tight gluts flexed in response. "Well, well, look who's up." One dark eye slid open and the man gave me a salacious wink. "I think I've unleashed a bloody monster." Frowning, I gave his tight behind a swat. "You're a bastard, James." "Bitch all you like, lil Johnny." His reply was a half-smirk that dared me to deny his words. "You enjoyed it all the same." It was one thing to sleep with a man who knew you - and another to be with a man who knew you - well, inside and out. I didn't need to explain exactly what I meant since he understood perfectly. This was a guy who'd been in my life since... forever and it was almost scary sometimes how James could predict my reactions. Even so, I felt that I had to explain my reactions. "I was drunk." "Yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge." Turning over on his side of the bed, he raised himself up on his elbows and faced me fully. His eyes were still held at half-mast and I realized what they actually meant by bedroom eyes. Even satiated and hazy with sleep, they smoldered with fire, those dark chocolate-brown eyes. "But let me remind you, you were not drunk. You only had that one teensy glass." It would be too easy to blame that one glass of wine but I knew logically that couldn't have caused it. It was his damned irresistible pheromones and that incredible body staring me in the face that brought me down - in more ways than one. Even now, the sheer perfection of his torso drew my attention and I found it almost impossible to keep my hands to myself. "Well, it can't happen again at any rate." "Not this soon, that's for sure." Seeing the expression on my face made him laugh. "James." Giving him a darkling look, I muttered quietly. "You know what I mean." "Please!" Groaning, he dropped facedown onto the bed and chuckled softly into his pillow. His voice came out muffled but still decipherable. "Don't say that, please. The last time you said that I had to prove it to you on the dining table. I think I bumped my knee on that damned chair." "And broke my lamp, mind you," I reminded him. Sure, I hated the damned lamp - grotesquely made out of seashells and other assorted paraphernalia that I didn't quite recognize. It had never occurred to me why anyone in their right mind would spend money on such a hideous gift. And yet it stood on my dining table as an intriguing conversation piece, its peculiar brand of monstrosity somehow inviting all sorts of comments. Never one to hold back, James was as usual ever ready with his appraisals. "It was stinkin ugly." "Fourth Aunt bought it in Taiwan," I reminded him. "Damn. She always had bad taste." I couldn't argue with that and decided to keep my comments to myself. It was a universally known fact that my Fourth Aunt was not only colour-blind, she was also totally fashion blind and wouldn't be expected to differentiate a pashmina from a Persian rug. And frequently wore then together. But my aunt's lack of style and colour coordination didn't matter right now. What mattered was the naked man in my bed. "Look, damn the lamp. What happens now?" "Fuck." The corners of his lips curved up in a singularly wolfish smile as his left hand dove between the sheets and crept up my naked thigh. It would have been so easy to respond in kind and follow his lead, bringing my hand up to the hard nine inches of uncut meat that I now knew lay between his thighs. Bring his undeniably delicious cock to my lips and tease the plum-sized head till sweet, pungent honey oozed from the slit. "No." Catching his hand midway up my thigh in a steel grip, I eyed him coolly. My cock throbbed with need, bombarded with images of the night before but I resisted my baser urges. "We're not doing that again." "Great. You've thought about it." The man let out a sigh. "Do you seriously want to talk about this right now? It's not even 7 yet." "Seven is already late." "Shit, you sound like grandpa," he muttered. Lately, I had been barraged with the unwelcome news that I was becoming an old stick-in-the-mud, reminiscent of my cantankerous grandfather. Honesty, the very thought of it was appalling and if only James' mother had voiced the opinion, I could have handled it better but when even June and my brother Jonathan said the same, it scared me to the bone. Was I 27 going on 80? It was something that I didn't need reminding and that earned him another swat on the butt. "Take that back." "Ouch." This time the man flinched and an interesting play of muscles rippled through his naked back. An inspiring act that managed to draw an enthusiastic response from my dick. "You sure do like my butt, don't you?" My dark brows flew up. "I'm not going to stroke your ego with a reply." It was an innuendo-laden reply and I winced painfully almost as soon as I said it. It was like dangling a carrot in front of an ass, albeit a great-looking one. However the man thankfully made no comment and drew himself up to a sitting position instead. Before I knew what he was about, he shifted forward and drew me into a kiss. His lips were just as I remembered, hot, wet and absolutely irresistible. As I tried to move away, his hands snaked around down my back and pulled me close. "Sorry, John. No talking. I don't function before my first cup of coffee." "Wait.. I.." His hot hands ran up the length of my back. It was at the tip of my tongue to make a protest but I found that I couldn't since his tongue had taken possession of my mouth. "This doesn't solve anything." "But it feels great." If it was one thing I should have learnt through the years, it was never argue with James Sung. It certainly wasn't worth it. I finally surfaced again an hour later with only one thought in my head. "James. I think.." "God." The hot, sweaty man above me let out a soft groan. "Not another word, please." As he shifted above me, his muscular thigh brushed against mine and I had to resist an urge to groan. "I just wanted to say.." "Wait, don't say anything yet." The man shut me up with another kiss, teasing mine with his firm lips. He tasted of heat, musk and testosterone. Even as the thoughts in my head drifted slowly away, I melted beneath him and wondered what it was that I wanted to tell him. "James.." Easing away with a final quick bite at the edge of my jaw, James turned his head up to smile at me. "You're determined to kill me, aren't you?" Taking pity on me, he pulled away from me and returned to his side of the bed. For a moment, I couldn't imagine what he was talking about but as my senses cleared, I remembered what I meant to say earlier. "I just wanted to tell you that you're.. incredible. You definitely don't need that cup of coffee to function." His smile widened. "You're welcome." "John. James." Since we were kids, my mum had done the same every morning giving us a last wake-up call before school. It was a voice I'd heard so often that I could imagine it in my sleep but it had never occurred to me that it would come now. The familiar voice drifted upstairs and my heart stilled. "Damn. Fuck." Recognizing the voice, James just laughed. "Relax, I think it's only your mum." "Fuck," I breathed out slowly. "Two fucks in a day." Propping his dark head up on his arm, he chuckled. "That's the most times I've seen you swear in a day." As my mother called out to us again, my mind was in a turmoil with only two thoughts rattling in my head. My mother was downstairs. James was lying naked in my bed. It had to be a sign. The very idea of my mother coming up the stairs to find me in bed with James was far too horrifying to be thought of. It was time for action. Disregarding the half-smirk on his handsome face, I leapt off the bed and threw our clothes on the bed. Thank God, I'd had the foresight to bring the clothes up this morning.