Boots in a Flowerbed

23. Morning Glory

The stripe of sky visible between elaborately draped curtains is very blue, almost blindingly clear. The sun must be high already.

Deep blue eyes blink a couple of times, squint disapprovingly at the brightness, and an arm rises to shade them. Kim sighs, wondering why his every muscle feels somehow sluggish, then turns his head and can't help chuckling as he sees the man beside him.

Chaim is sound asleep, face lax, ash-blonde hair mussed on the pillow. He's thrown one arm up to rest above his head. Kim lets a finger trace the underside of that arm, from elbow to wrist to palm. The things those elegant hands can do... Kim feels a blush creep on his face at the heated memory.

Was that really what he's been so afraid of?

No, Kim decides. Not really; he was afraid of something he didn't know. And now he's ashamed. Hasn't he always known that he can trust Chaim? Why hasn't he trusted Chaim in this, too? That Chaim wouldn't do anything Kim doesn't like?

Kim looks at the calm profile. He thinks back to last night. How Chaim literally trembled with need and still somehow forced himself under enough control to take things slow, to ask for permission, to make sure Kim enjoys himself... and how he enjoyed it!

He swallows as he notices the bruised scratch on Chaim's shoulder - made by his nails when Chaim's lips were grazing on his lower belly and... Kim fights another blush and rolls over, presses his lips on the hurt, licks it gently. The skin is warm, a little salty. It tastes good. Kim rubs his nose on Chaim's cheek and grins, feeling the slight stubble.

The man shifts in his sleep. Kim waits patiently, watches long lashes flutter. At last Chaim opens his eyes, frowns sleepily and looks at Kim. His smile is drowsy.

"Good morning," Kim whispers, suddenly breathless. What are they now? How to behave, what to do, what to say?

"The best morning of my life," Chaim mumbles, then Kim gasps as a long arm snakes around him and pulls him close. Their bodies mold together, as if made for each other, and Kim shivers with pleasure when Chaim laughs, that deep purr that goes straight through him. "Kim," Chaim sighs, kisses him on the nose. "My Kim." On the lips. "My own Kim..." On the throat.

Kim laughs, now he can't get close enough, and Chaim certainly doesn't resist as Kim crawls on top of him. He wedges his body between Chaim's legs, wanting to feel again that hardness against his own, and Chaim grins when he finds the right position.

"My Kim wants more," he teases, voice husky. "Oh yes, and he'll get more. Anything my Kim wants, he'll have."

"I - want - more," Kim pants, intoxicated by his own daring, overwhelmed by the surge of sheer need coursing through him. Chaim kisses him again, long and profoundly. It feels so good that it's almost scary; nothing can possibly feel this good. Kim closes his eyes, tastes the kiss, feels Chaim's tongue and the hands that stray elsewhere for a while and then return to roam all over him, on his buttocks, on his back, slipping between them... to do what?

His eyes fly open when a strangely slippery palm engulfs his erection. Chaim just shushes him and begins to stroke him slowly, up and down. His hand is warm, wet, oily, Kim nearly sobs and tries to push into that hand, and still Chaim is holding him back, telling him to wait. Kim doesn't understand why he should, but then his breath catches as he feels how Chaim flexes under him, thighs spreading to grasp Kim between them, that knowing hand guiding him gently but firmly to the right spot. Encouraging him.

Kim never turns his gaze from Chaim's eyes as he pushes in, hesitant at first. He almost cries when he feels the tightness, the heat, and then he does cry out when Chaim moans and bends nearly double, pulls him deep, begins to pump himself with one hand. Kim doesn't know that a tear is rolling down his face. Chaim is yielding to him, showing once and for all that this is about trust, urging him to go on, and he does. He tries to keep his eyes open, despite sweat and stray hairs and effort, he wants to see Chaim's rapturous, concentrated face. Brown eyes fall out of focus, then they close slowly and Chaim moans again as if in pain, creamy white spurting on them both.

The incredible flood of liquid heat leaves Kim panting and exhausted. He feels only dimly that Chaim's arms rise to embrace him, and lets himself collapse on top of the man. He shudders when he realizes that he's still deep inside his lover, pulls slowly out, tries to catch his breath.

"Chaim," he whispers at last. "Chaim, I've been so stupid."

"Hush," Chaim hums, voice deep and sated. "You were scared. You didn't know. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Kim kisses him, lips roaming along sweaty face, kisses again. His hands glide into blonde hair, he pulls the head closer and nibbles Chaim's jaw, looks at the big, sensuous mouth, and an irresistible laughter tickles his lips. He chuckles, then giggles and kisses the man once more, demanding and voracious.

"Good heavens," Chaim mumbles into the kiss, "what's this? Trying to eat me?"

"No." Kim shakes his head. "I was just thinking... that if Toni had known what his taunting would cause... he'd probably rather have bitten his tongue off."

Chaim sighs and rubs their noses together, but his eyes go dark.

"Toni..." His arms tighten around Kim. "Let's not talk about Toni. I can't help thinking of the sweet boy he once was, and it makes me so sad."

Jealousy stabs Kim but he just nods and kisses Chaim, kisses until the man forgets all about his dark-haired friend.