Page 37 of The Missing Ingredient

“Fuck, Tom,” he gasped. “What did you just do?”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry—”

“No. Fuck. Do it again.”

Tom obeyed instantly, bucked his hips, and once again the lightning bolt of pleasure fizzled through Marcus’s body. Not only that, but suddenly his cock had started to awaken.

“Work with me, Tom. As I lift off you and come back down, meet me halfway.”

Each time they did this, moving to a mutual rhythm, the pleasure became almost unbearable. Marcus’s cock grew painfully erect.

“Swap places, Tom. Can you get me under you?”

Tom, brought out from his own carnal trance, needed no prompting. With ease, and without even pulling out, Tom lifted Marcus and deposited him on his back on the mattress. As Marcus wrapped his legs around Tom’s back, Tom moved in for a kiss before starting the solid rhythm again.

“Harder, Tom,” cried Marcus. “Give me as much as you’ve got.”

But this time Tom ignored him and took complete control, alternating strokes between short and long, driving Marcus crazy. To get better access, Tom pulled Marcus’s ankles onto his shoulders. When Tom finally started to build to orgasm, pounding Marcus long and hard, Marcus lost control and, without even touching himself, shot a huge load between them. Not far behind, Tom growled long and loud, eventually collapsing on top of Marcus.

They stayed that way for a few minutes until Marcus could barely breathe under the weight. Tom must have realized instinctively, because he leaned up on his elbows, slowly and carefully withdrawing his cock from inside Marcus, and then rolled to one side. In the past, partners had mentioned the loss of having someone inside being worse than the initial pain of entry. For the first time in his life, Marcus understood what they had meant.

“Are you okay, Tom?”

When Marcus looked over, Tom was smiling contentedly at the ceiling, like a lion that had just feasted on a kill. “More than,” he said. “How about you?”

“Totally confused. I think I must have been doing something wrong all these years,” said Marcus, almost a whisper.

Next to him, Tom turned his head to gaze at Marcus. “How so?”

“Let’s just say that I’ve always thought of myself as the top. I’m usually the one doing the fucking. The few times anyone has fucked me, I’ve never really felt anything.”

Tom’s face turned thoughtful then. “You didn’t enjoy that?”

“Are you kidding me? Were you even watching? You and your magic cock have just turned me into a bottom. I fucking loved what we just did. That was, without doubt, the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. Hands-free too. Just one thing, as long as you’re up for it.”

“What’s that?” said Tom, his brow crinkling.

“We’ll need to try that at least a couple more times tonight. Just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”

Marcus’s heart warmed at the lustful smile that transformed Tom’s face. “Count me in.”

That night, as they prepared to sleep in the same bed, Marcus marveled at how relaxed Tom had become. Marcus donned his dressing gown and purposely took his time switching off lights in the apartment to allow Tom to pick the side of the bed he was most comfortable with. Marcus didn’t have a preference; he often ended up sleeping on the couch after a late night. And when he returned, as he had hoped, Tom sat up in bed on the right side. Marcus smiled, undressed, and climbed in next to him. When they both settled in to sleep, Tom pulled Marcus into him and spooned him into his body, an arm around his waist.

“Night, Marcus,” he said, his warm breath on Marcus’s neck.

“Back at you,” said Marcus.

Just before he dropped off to sleep, feeling cradled, safe, and cared for, a little thought popped into his head.

He could get used to this.

“I’Dforgotten you have that huge cast-iron bath.”

That morning, Marcus had woken to someone nibbling his earlobe and something hot and hard nudging his backside. When his hand went behind him, he found that Tom had already slipped on a condom and smothered the whole thing in lube. What a way to wake up, and once again Tom managed to wring an earth-shattering orgasm out of him. When Tom had wandered into the bathroom to get a cloth to clean up with, Marcus had followed and now stood behind him.

“It’s a claw-foot vintage tub. You want me to run you a bath?”

Marcus enjoyed an occasional soak in the tub, especially after being on his feet all day in the kitchen. With the chrome taps, faucet, and showerhead attachment fitted along the wall side, the tub allowed Marcus to sit at either end of the tub or for two people to sit comfortably facing each other. Not that he had ever had anyone else in there with him.

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