Date: Thu, 07 Aug 2008 16:51:42 -0400
From: montrealormolu@aol.com
Subject: The Glance - chapter 4

The house was quiet, elegant, old. Wooden floors gleamed, peeking out from
under scattered antique throw rugs. The walls were a soft off-white,
forming an unobtrusive background for the artwork that hung on them.
Watercolors, textiles, masks, flutes covered each wall, each one carefully
arranged to work with the others surrounding it. Clearly, John had both
very eclectic and very modern tastes. There were sculptures on the
fireplace mantel, in the corners of the rooms, on antique tables and
chests. Beautiful ceramics were featured everywhere; and there were baskets
and baskets and baskets, some antique, some ethnic, some artisanal. The
front rooms gave off a sense of creativity and somehow, a down-home kind of
elegance. Things were rustic, and yet, somehow, sophisticated.

Ever the solicitous host, John turned to Chuck, "Can I hang up your coat?"
Chuck just smiled at him, took off his coat and, as John reached for it,
captured his hands. Chuck quickly pulled John into a hug, reaching around
him with both arms. "I've wanted to do this since I first saw you, up at
the altar." And he kissed him.

John froze. It had been a long, long time. He was used to being in charge,
and this, this guy was was ... Chuck leaned into him, pulling him tight
into the embrace, lips covering his, tongue flicking along his lips.
Suddenly John's arms lifted of themselves. He put his hand on Chuck's neck
and pulled him down. His mouth opened and he kissed Chuck fiercely, his
barriers going down as Chuck's tongue thrust deeply into his own mouth.
Their erections pushed against each other through their pants, their bodies
bearing witness to what was going on in their souls.

Chuck pulled back, John's lips chasing him, reluctant to let go. "So, are
you going to show me the rest of the house?" John took his hand, and led
him deeper into the old house. "This is the master bedroom," he said as
opened a door at the back of the house. Light flooded the room filtered
through softly draped windows on three sides, the dark iron of the old
frames giving the whole room a wonderful, antique feel. More antiques stood
around the room, an old pine dresser and mirror, a pine Windsor chair, a
bedside table in Birdseye Maple, and a large, raised canopy bed centered on
one wall between two windows. Chuck drank it all in, pausing in the
doorway. "What a wonderful room!"

"Yes. I fell in love with the house when I moved here. But, until now, it's
also been pretty lonely."

Claws suddenly dug into Chuck's leg. "Ouch!" He looked down to see a Maine
Coon Cat, luxurious tail straight up in the air, rub itself around his
legs, demanding the attention to which royalty were due.

"Stop that, Joe." John quickly picked up the cat, draping him across his
arms. "I'm sorry, Chuck. He can be pretty demanding. But he's been my major
company for the past few years and I've spoilt him rotten." The cat butted
his head against John's chin, demanding more attention, completely
oblivious to the fact that John didn't have three arms -- two to hold him
and an extra to scratch.  Chuck reached out for him, "What a gorgeous
cat. Let me hold him, please." John let Chuck lift the cat out of his
arms. Chuck settled him into his arms, able to hold him like a baby with
one arm and scratch him with the other hand. The cat butted his head up
against Chuck's hand, purring the whole while. "What an amazing cat!" John
looked at the two, the cat seeming so comfortable in the man's arms. He
smiled, at peace with the scene before him. "Hey, I thought you were going
to do that with me," he teased Chuck. Chuck quickly looked up at him, a big
smile creasing his face, "Oh, I will, I will." He laughed at John, enjoying
the teasing. Then he set the cat down, and reached for John. "Come here,
big guy, let me rub your tummy." John melted into arms, wrapping his own
arms around Chuck, leaning up for a kiss.

And kiss they did, mouths melting into each other, tongues caressing,
thrusting, battling. Every now and then they stopped for oxygen, their
lungs forcing them to break apart. John found himself backed up to the bed
with no memory of them moving across the room. His knees buckled and they
fell back on the bed, bouncing on the mattress. Chuck laughed. He forced
himself up on one elbow, shifting off to the side, his other hand caressing
John, slowly working its way under the shirt, stroking his tummy -- just
as he had promised, moving up to slowly tweak a nipple. John's breath
caught and his body arched up to meet Chuck's fingers. Chuck slowly opened
each button, drawing the shirt aside so he could see the body his hands had
been feeling. His eyes drank it in and he leaned over John, tongue flicking
one nipple, teeth slowly teasing. John jerked back, moaning deep in his
throat, his hands reached up and tangled themselves in Chuck's hair as he
brought the head up to his mouth again. And he kissed Chuck with every
fiber of his being, trying to drink him in, to make his soul one with his
own. "Let me see you. I need to see you," he breathed into Chuck's mouth.

Chuck drew back, kneeling on the bed, slowly pulling his mussed up shirt
out of his pants, pausing as he opened each button and then drawing the
shirt off over his shoulders and down his arms. His chest, lightly fuzzed
with hair, a trail accentuating his abs, gleamed with sweat. John reached
up one hand, drawing it up through the hair, turning it so that his fingers
could lightly graze Chuck's erect nipple. He sat up suddenly and began to
lick Chuck's chest, first one nipple then the other, then running his lips
down the fur trail to bury his tongue in the "innie" which peeked out from
the hair. He pulled Chuck to him, and then gently flipped him so that he
landed on top this time. He stood, bending over to undo Chuck's belt
buckle, gently easing the zipper down, letting his hands move down the legs
and slipping off the shoes and socks. He tugged on the pants and Chuck
lifted his body so that the pants could slip off. Unconsciously, he folded
the pants neatly and set them aside.

He turned back and let his hands drift up Chuck's legs, enjoying the rasp
of leg hairs against his palms. What a sight lay before him -- a man,
muscled, hairy, no extra weight on the length of his lean body, a mouth
which smiled all the time, eyes which twinkled, a strong, rough face --
all man right down to the cock which throbbed and fought to be free of his
underwear. It took but a moment for John to step out of his own shoes, slip
off his socks, let his shirt drop on top of Chuck's carefully folded pants,
unzip his own pants letting them slide down his legs and fold them on top
of Chuck's. As he reached for his shorts, Chuck said, "No. Let me."

Chuck sat up and scooted over to the edge of the bed. He reached for John
and brought him forward, his hands reaching around to massage John's
ass. He bent his head and began to trace John's straining cock with his
tongue. He sucked on it until the front of John's shorts were no longer
opaque, all the while letting his hands knead John's glutes. He stuck one
hand underneath and caressed them, slowly letting his middle finger graze
over John's pucker.  He slipped his other hand under the waistband, and
lifted the shorts over John's dripping erection and lowered them down his
legs. He leaned forward, opening his mouth to gently begin tonguing the
underside, working his way towards the top where he could lick off the
precum. John's hips jerked forward and then Chuck quickly swallowed the
whole thing. John bucked again, his hands clutching in Chuck's hair.

"John, I'm sorry. It's been too long. I'm going to cum."

"It's OK, let yourself go." Chuck began to move up and down John's length,
using all the suction he could manage, using one hand to piston the bottom
length. John's began to move, in, out, in, out and then he lost rhythm, his
hips jerking spasmodically, his body arching, everything focused on the
gush. Grunts forced themselves out of his belly and through his lips. He
froze for an instant and then began to fold in, everything going soft.

Chuck gathered him in, bringing his arms up to cradle him as he turned,
guiding John into his lap where John leaned against his chest, head cradled
in his shoulder, aftershocks still coursing through his body. Chuck
caressed him, using his hands as a father soothes a son to communicate
safety, warmth, acceptance, love. John melted into Chuck.

Chuck stood up, turning to place John on the bed, and then crawled in
beside him, spooning him so that his body cradled John along his whole
length. "Shhh. Shhh." He held John close. John began to move, trying to
wriggle around. Chuck loosened his embrace, and John turned to face
him. "You haven't come yet. Let me ..."

"Shhh. Shhh. This was for you. Just cuddle in and relax."

"But ..."

"Shhh. Relax." Chuck began to stroke John again, bringing his hand down
along John's side from shoulder to hip, over and over again. John let
himself be soothed, nestling in and beginning to doze. Chuck pulled up a
light comforter from the bottom of the bed and covered them both. And they
fell asleep.