Page 17 of Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined
“Joe. Fuck.”
Joe quickened his hand, wrapped the other around Percy’s ribcage, and fucked him a little harder. It was too much. Too good. And Joe could feel the next orgasm about to let go. And he was going to be mortified if he didn’t satisfy Percy. But just as he clamped down on Percy’s cock, Percy shot a bold ribbon of hot cum across his chest, shuddering on a cry of ecstasy, as Joe did the same, coming inside Percy, in the most viciously exquisite moment of his entire life.
He collapsed onto Percy, whose fingers dug into his back, as another jolt of ecstasy smashed through him. Joe bent his neck, shifting his head into the comfort of Percy’s neck, his whole body shuddering, and Percy dropped a kiss on his hair.
He lay in the warmth of Percy’s arms and Percy’s bed for a few glorious moments, before realising he was covered in Percy’s cum, and had covered Percy in it when he lay down on him. “Shit.” He looked down. “Sorry.”
“Stay right here.” Percy shifted slightly, Joe pulled out, andwas settled firmly into the nook of Percy’s arm, his body humming, post-sex, something that twelve hours earlier, was as remote a possibility as touching the stars.
He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he should leave soon, because ‘no sleepovers’, ‘no cuddling’, but there they were, wrapped up together, and Percy was holding him so close against his own dear skin. And that felt right. More right than anything Joe could remember feeling before.
They remained silent, the beat of Joe’s heart amplified by the press against Percy, until Percy said, “Was that okay?”
Joe laughed. “That was amazing. That was… I can see why people do that.”
Joe felt Percy’s smile against his hair. Another soft kiss. “Good.”
He waited for Percy to say more, but when he didn’t, the quiet turned cool. For Joe. “Was that… Um… For you?—”
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Joe scoffed a full breath of adoring laughter. Percy was undoubtedly lying, but it was a very welcome lie.
“I think this is your true calling,” Percy reflected, his languid hand stroking Joe’s naked hip. “Fucking me.”
Joe tsked softly, burying his face a little deeper in Percy’s chest.
So Percy added, “You’re like the St Matthew of fucking.”
Joe slapped a hand down on Percy’s chest, recoiling in mild shock. “You can’t say that!”
“Ow!” Percy passed his own hand over the pleasantly slapped area. “What? It’s true. I’m telling you.”
“Called forth by you? Does that make you the Jesus of fucking?”
With a shrug and a captivating smirk, “You tell me.”
Joe tried and failed to choke the laugh that crept up his throat. “I can’t. I can’t have this conversation. That’s a step too far. In fact…” This was it. The perfect time to call it a night. Leave on a good note. As friends. Like Percy would have wanted. Joe’s words were laced with regret, but he said them anyway. “I guess I should let you sleep.”
A stillness fell over Percy, all but his lips drawing tight, then, “The wine!” he ejaculated. “We’ve barely touched it. We can’t waste it.”
“It’s probably morning outside,” Joe argued, searching the windowless room for any indication of the time.
“So what? And your clothes won’t be dry. What if we just clean up, finish what’s now breakfast, and then…” He gave pause, raising a casual shoulder. “Then if you want to go, you can.”
‘If…’
Joe never wanted to leave his side again. So he accepted the flippant-sounding invitation, and he stayed on. They did exactly as Percy had suggested. They ate expensive cheese for ‘breakfast’, drank expensive wine to wash it down, and some hours later, when the rest of the world was drenched in bright daylight, they finally nodded off, side by side, in Percy’s painstakingly curated bedroom.
CHAPTER NINE
POST-FUCK CLARITY
Percy woke well before he opened his eyes. He woke to a full-body, magnificent sense of wellbeing like he hadn’t experienced in years. The temperature was just right. The sheets were soft and luxurious against his skin. But his body… His bodysang. It sang a melody of Joe’s kisses along his arms and chest. It played a symphony of legs and fingers and sheets entangled. Every pitch was in perfect harmony, and the only thing lacking was a repeat performance.
Percy rolled over, flung an arm across the mattress, and met… nothing.
He sat up, scanned the bed, the dark room.
