Stadium of the Gods (2)

We must have lain in the close gloom of our room for at least half an hour, but time seemed motionless. Only the flicker of neon lights outside and the rattling of traffic below seemed to change around us.
Clive had drifted into a light sleep, resting uneasily on my arm. When he stirred and smiled up at me, I tried to make a convincing smile. ‘I’ll just nip in and take a shower,’ I said, easing away from him. ‘You doze away, if your tired.’

With hot water cascading across my back, I flexed my muscles, watching steam from the shower blot out the small cubicle room. Suddenly the long nagging awareness of shame and guilt swamped me, and I let a cry curl out through water-white mist. Even under the trickling jet of water, I could feel tears well then trickle from my eyes. I turned to face the spurt of water, to wash it all away.
I rubbed squirts of dribbling shampoo over the tightness at my throat, and smoothed it downward, mingling it with the shower water holding fast to the hairs on my chest.
I stood there, watching it travel down across my belly and thighs, cascading around my groin, then forming a river of foam pooling by my feet.
Scrubbing hard at my body, I longed for all feeling to drift away like the scum swirling slow down the drain. But it wouldn’t, instead the tight grip at my throat grew firmer and extended to my chest. I tried to concentrate on the sound of the gurgling water, or the steam patterns dancing above. None of it worked.

This was down to me. I bashed a fist against the tiled shower cubicle wall, sending bottles of stuff flying of little shelves; it was me yet again, my fault. I had a history of creating quagmires like this. Always ready to swallow me, and all around me, whole.

Shrugging, I tried to control my breathing so I could have a slash. With only the sound of running water to disturb me, it should’ve been easy. But like life, it wasn’t.
Liz, my ex-girlfriend pounced in on me, grinning her naughtiest fallen-angel smile from behind the shower screen. That face brought a further twinge of sorrow; the passion in her gleaming eyes relishing the undeniable joy of a naked man. Especially one squirming in total embarrassment.

This memory made me laugh aloud as I recalled the fun we shared. I loved Eliza, really, not just as a friend, but for her sweetly seductive body and that blissful happiness that shone out of her as full contentment whenever she got what she wanted.

But I couldn’t live a lie; nor would Eliza continue to ignore it for long - she knew me too well. And sadly, I knew her too. That wasn’t the life either of us wanted; not then. I went to her wedding; the best man for a mate I only knew as a school friend and a college drinking buddy. Alone with her in a wedding reception waltz, I wished her the perfect marriage for the perfect girl; and when they made lots of perfect children to name one for me. She laughed at me, placing one of my hands to her belly. Clasped there she whispered, ‘It should be this one.’
I’d looked at her, a quiz buzzing through my brain, ‘But you were on..’

That sultry look she gave when it suited, teased into a smile. ‘Oh! I decided I wanted a baby, so I stopped.’
I almost tripped over my own feet, searching her face for answers to questions I hardly knew how to frame. ‘Does Justin know?’ I allowed my question to trailed off, knowing that it was none of my business, even if it had been me that created the mess.

‘See here, Ronan Smyth, I love you dearly. But you want,’ Eliza held a look in my eyes, ‘you need something else. We both know that. If things were different, great. But I can’t do it like this.’ Eliza slipped away from my arms to press down her dress and tighten her perfect French braids, ‘I need and want something else too.’
I let Justin cut in, and she whisked off in her husband’s arms.

Clive looked at me, bemused. He was smirking at me, his tongue clacking in disapproval at the hot yellow stream of piss bursting from my dick. ‘Ok then, mate?’ He smirked.
I can’t tell if I intended sharing my doubts with Clive just then. But as he stood there, naked, reaching out toward my lips, I forgot all other thoughts or sensations - only Clive was real. And I felt something deep inside melt as he touched me.
‘Kismet.’ Is all he said as he eased into the cubicle beside me.
I stood motionless for the moment, then I let my forehead slump onto his shoulder, and allowed him to embrace me. Thumping pounded in my ears, as my heart seemed to leap from its moorings. It wasn’t just my heart that beat wild either. Echoing mine, I could feel the blood pulsing fast in the veins at his neck.

Then a natural stillness blotted out everything else but the sensation of Clive so near, flesh to flesh; even the pumping water that beat around us evaporated from view.
‘Do you feel OK about all of..’ Before I could finish my sentence, Clive took hold of the hair on my head and gently tugged it back so he could kiss me.
The kiss lasted. Both of us swaying with the renewed flow of water, our eyes closed but our mouths open and searching.
When I opened my eyes, realising Clive had stopped giving himself, I couldn’t hide my disappointment. Still, I said nothing, I just gave Clive some soap and the two of us showered off the foam, no longer touching in any meaningful way.

Clive turned off the water, when I stepped out to reach the towels. And he ran his hands through the streaks of his blond hair, combing it back sensually with his fingers.
I grabbed the towels and tossed one over to Clive as I dried off. Pausing, I looked into the steamed-over bathroom mirror. My eyes were the same Irish green as ever, my face the same pale freckled-milk. None of it showed how close I was to tears.

My fears were broken by the soft touch of Clive’s wet lips on my back. I couldn’t help a shudder, but apologised and let myself be drawn round to face him. Clicking his tongue, he answered my brief ’Sorry’ by leaning in to me and breathing in the soft baby scent from the shampoo I’d pinched off my sister. ‘I am sorry..’ I started to say, but Clive placed a finger over my mouth to stop me.
‘Shut up Ronan!’ He mumbled through a lust-filled smile. ‘Look,’ he said angling my head toward him, ‘I have something I want say to you..’ Clive stopped as though struggling to find the right words. ‘There’s no other way to say it,’ he told himself first, and only then could he speak his chosen words to me, ‘I want you to be the one.’
My brow furrowed instantly as I wasn’t too sure what he really intended.

‘To be my..’ Clive’s confidence was sagging. ‘At least to take my virginity.’
Waves of emotions mixed and flowed through me, their contradictions mounting and leaving me dazed. Confused, I sort of just shrugged with a smile, instead of doing what I really wanted: taking him in my arms and squeezing the love out of him.
‘No more chat, Ro. Don’t ask if I’m sure,’ Clive’s eyelids drew closed as he came in for another kiss. Whispering at my ear he sighed, ‘Just be with me, if only this one night. Be with me.’
I nodded.
Clive drew away from me as I move in on him, but he looked at me with a grin. ‘If we’re going to do it, I think I’d better have a dump and a clean up first.’
Again I nodded.
Clive gave me a quizzical look, and stood with his hands on his hips.
‘Er,’ I think I managed to say, before I nodded at the door. ‘You’ll ehm? Yes.’

I stood at one of the room’s windows, as I heard the loo flush and Clive start to open the cubicle door. I opened the window suddenly desperate for some air.
When I had left him to do his stuff, I’d gone to cover our bed with some towels, look out some lube, and sort a condom from Johnny’s little pile. Most of them were his own snug-fits, but some I knew where big fellas because he used them as party props. While I was looking for them I came across some of Clive’s property that made me stop and think. Looking at his Daily Light and Bible, I knew why I had felt so uneasy about getting anything started with him.

Clive was what many people call ‘clean living’ at home. I had no desire to make him roll in the mire of life, he had a wife, whom he loved, and a career in medicine that he was dedicated to. Could I really put all that at risk just because I felt so good having him in my arms? I knew I could, but whether I should nagged at me.
‘Hey! big man, how’s you hangin’?’ Clive giggled as he cuddled into my back.
‘What’s up, Doc?’ I countered without taking my gaze from the street below. ‘I can see Johnny over there.’ I pointed to a huddle of fun tripping along the boulevard. He had found a couple of girls to sort out his wee man and his massive black satyr friend. But they struggled on passed the hotel and went off into the bustle of Saturday night.

‘Are you worried?’ Clive asked me after laying a bite on my shoulder. He’d picked up his Christian meditation booklet, then he wrapped his arms around me. ‘I know. It just seems so odd to me too.’
‘But you have so much to consider, Clive.’ I gripped the window frame to stop myself from facing him. ‘Your dad said he expects you to follow him into lay ministry.’
‘He also expects me to sit in Parliament,’ Clive laughed.
I’d had enough, I snapped and turned on him. ‘But this could pull all that down around your ears! I could be a disaster!’
‘It could,’ Clive accepted humbly.
‘I wouldn’t hurt you, Clive. You know that,’ I said taking him by the arms and shaking him hard. ‘But can you really be sure this would be the last?’
Clive hung his head, stung by the outpouring of my anger. It was more than my flesh was capable of resisting, I pulled him to me with a hug.
‘I only wanted to be with you,’ Clive sulked like a little boy scolded.
‘And I want to be with you,’ I sighed into his ear. I wanted that so much.

Raising an eyebrow, Clive looked into my face and asked, ‘Ready to do it then?’
There wasn’t a sound in the room and it felt like he spoke really loud, so I pulled him even closer as though the few people near us might hear anything he said.
A sour look on Clive’s face faded when he snuggled into my chest. His head cocked to the side, it was like he was checking my heart - or checking that I had one. And once satisfied I did, he ran a teasing thumb around my nipples.
His hair still felt damp, but silky soft to my touch. ‘Don’t go to sleep down there,’ I said tugging at him playfully. ‘We have things to do before Johnny gets back.’
‘Go on,’ Clive gave me a sarky come back, ‘you don’t say!’
I ran my hand across Clive’s chest, circling around the manly tufts of springy hair. Then I traced the firm lines of his abdomen with my index fingers. ‘Will you make it up with Jennifer?’ I asked after I’d put a hand behind his neck to hold him tight.

‘I’ll try again for sure, but who knows,’ Clive answered honestly.
We allowed silence to take hold once more, and we rolled on top of the single bed I had shared with Clive already for one very long, lonely, agonising night.
I pinned my arms up behind my head so that Clive could move around my body easily, and he did. He started to lick the side of my neck. ‘You don’t know how I’ve longed for this with you, Ro,’ he whispered very gently.
He seemed to savour every inch of my body, as though he wanted to map it fully with his tongue, or record each individual scent.
When he finally took my cock into his mouth, and I felt its wonderful, total warmth enveloping me, the sheer pleasure of hearing his heavy breathing drove my body into an almost uncontrollable quaking.

I released my hands from pillowing my head, and brought them both to the back of his head. Guiding him as he struggled to master the knack of giving joy to a cock, I manoeuvred him around so that he lay on his back allowing me to rock in and out of his mouth. Careful not to make him gag, I straddled over him, letting him take my cock in his hands and relish as much of it as he liked.
Clive pulled himself away from enjoying my cock and balls to speak to me. ‘I want to feel you inside me,’ he said drawing down to his groin.
Taking hold of his hamstrings, I pushed his legs into the air, then licked over his chest, down to his navel, and, with a look to see he was enjoying it, on to his engorged cock. Very gently I ran my lips up and down the shaft, and each time I reached the knob I took it all in, allowing it to touch the back of my throat.

He raised his legs more so that his buttcrack would open and let me get to his hole all the easier. I found the sweet little pucker and licked his ass until the hole quivered with each swipe.
Clive twisted, turning in different directions trying to get my face closer in. With his legs still splayed in the air, and looking down at me in the gloomy shadows, he groaned as I started to finger him.
First one finger worked spit in gently, then long and deep inside. Perhaps Clive hadn’t expected two fingers so soon, but instinctively he clenched his ring around them. Yet when he got used to the feeling he relaxed, and I began slowly to stick more fingers into his cunt, lubing each go carefully with spittle, until Clive cried out.
We both knew that he was itching for me to ease the real thing in. Clive wrapped his legs around the small of my back and searched the bed for the condom I said was near his head.
As he searched, I pulled Johnny’s KY lube to me and told Clive to take deep breaths as I smeared the ooze into him. The touch of my sticky finger massaging his prostate brought me a fresh stream of satisfying moans from the back of Clive’s throat.

Clive felt my knob poking over his crack. So, searching out his own asshole with one hand, he took my cock and lead it in toward him with the other.
When I found his hole, tight but ready, he gave a gasping in-take of breath. But his breathing soon turned to whimpers as I opened the resisting clench of his rectum. I kissed him once more, gently, until he got used to the feeling of a man inside him, then I drove my dick further into his ass.

Clive gripped at my thighs, digging his fingers into the flesh to stop me. Gladly I did as he wanted, moderating my penetration in line with the pressure of his fingers.
With a jerk he looked up from his writhing to look direct into my eyes. There was an inconceivable craze staring back at me. ’Take me, Ronan,’ he cried. ‘Please, do it, take me!’ The heels of Clive’s cold feet kneaded into my ass, demanding I drive my dick deeper and deeper into his ass.

Grimaces and little screams came thick and quick when I fucked him harder and faster. I pressed him to turn on his side so I could fuck him from behind, and allow him a bit more comfort.
‘Is that better for you?’ I asked.
‘Having you is, anyhow. That’s all I want.’ Clive mumbled as much to himself as to me, between grasping at the bedclothes and biting them.
The bedstead was rattling against the wall and it’s legs wobbling around floor, but Clive demanded that I fuck him more while he wanked his knob. The intensity in his cries grew with every thrust until he growled that he was going to cum.

With sweat pouring down my forehead, and bathing his whole body, I gave him another series of banging thrusts. This time he arched his spine to meet me, the muscles of his back tensed and rippling almost in time to the squelching pops of my cock in his hole. A sudden sigh pierced the air and Clive rolled back his head to look at me, then he dropped back swiftly as a loud lasting moan came out of his chest, and wave on wave of his seed seemed to shoot out across the bed.
A few moments later, I felt my balls erupt spewing out a fearsome orgasmic load inside his ass.

I collapsed beside Clive after he expelled my dick from his ass, and I had grabbed at the condom to make sure it wasn’t left behind. We were both panting heavily, but we found time to draw together in an embrace. Once more, Clive started to drift into a light dozing snore, but not before he said very quietly, ‘Thank you.’

Stadium of the Gods (3) to follow: Johnny brings his new-found Black mate back to the hotel room.