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Anthony scanned the crowded bar for any sign of his quarry. Why were they meeting in such a noisy place, anyway? It wasn’t at all what he’d expected when he answered the email from his old uni pal saying he was in town and would Anthony like to meet and catch up. A far cry indeed from the rather sedate local they’d shared pints in during those years, or the occasional trip to an unbearably posh lounge where they’d sniggered over overpriced cocktails. Then— he caught sight of a tuft of pale hair just as an arm raised to wave him over, and Anthony’s stomach did a casual backflip as his eyes made contact with those of the man who was standing to greet him.
“Anthony! So good to see you.”
“Ezra! You as well, it’s been too long.”
They shook hands in that firm-but-awkward sort of way that people who used to be close and now didn’t know what they were to each other often did, and Ezra took his seat. Anthony slid into the booth across from him, pulling the dark glasses from his face, and tucking one arm into the neck of his henley to hang them there.
“Still sporting the old shades, eh?” Ezra gestured towards his own eyes. Anthony snorted, and mimicked the gesture flippantly.
“Haven’t gotten any less sun-blind recently, so yeah.”
“Of course, of course. I was hoping the conditions here would be alright for you.”
Anthony blinked, then nodded, as he really took in his surroundings for the first time. The lighting was low, and amber; fixtures scattered here and there to give the place a soft glow, and plenty of interesting shadows. Too, while it was loud, the booth they were seated in had a high surround, dampening the noise so they need not shout. It was, all things considered, quite cozy; a strangely private bubble within the public crowd. Ezra nudged a squat glass across the table.
“Still Talisker, I hope?”
“Spot on, thank you.” Anthony accepted the offering, and took up the glass. It was heavy and cold, settling nicely on his tongue as he sipped the amber liquid within, and studied Ezra. His old friend looked much the same: his attempt to comb back the white-blond curls, as always, was thwarted by them springing back here and there– charmingly enough that Anthony was now quite sure he’d embraced the effect deliberately. The clothes were the same too; and yet not quite. The mixed beige-and-brown shades were the same, but the fabrics were finer, the garments more well made, and they sat more comfortably on a frame that had thickened a little since they last met. Stubble ghosted Ezra’s cheeks, and there was a mischief lingering behind the familiar twinkle of his eyes. Anthony lowered his glass, suddenly aware of the beating of his heart.
“Anyway, how are you?” he asked, “What brings you back to London?”
“Ah, well,” Ezra fiddled with his own glass. “I’ve actually been back for a while, just couldn’t think what else to say to ask you to meet up. I’ve been frightfully busy getting the bookshop sorted out and time just got away from me.”
“The bookshop? Not—”
“Oh yes! The old git finally died and I inherited it.”
“Not your uncle A— what was his name?”
“Nevermind, he’ll forever be a set of initials now. But yes, he popped his clogs and the shop finally came to me. So I’ve been doing all sorts of—”
“Hang on, that means you’ve been what, fifteen minutes away for how long?”
“If you must know, I wasn’t entirely sure you’d want to see me.”
“What?” Anthony sat back, brows pinching. “Why not?”
“Well, we didn’t exactly leave with things clear between us.”
“Well, yeah, I suppose— I mean, that was— I—” Anthony gabbled silently for a further moment before his hand shot across the table to grasp Ezra’s wrist. “I’m always happy to see you, Ez.”
“Oh, good.” Ezra’s lips split into a smile, and even in the low light, it was dazzling. He patted the back of Anthony’s hand. “Good, I was hoping! So now you know I’ve been spending my time sorting out a musty old bookshop, catch me up on what you’re doing these days.”
This had the potential to be a huge mistake, as there was nothing Anthony liked to rant about more than his work. Ezra, however, seemed to be genuinely interested and alternately laughed and groaned along as Anthony laid out the sorry state of the advertising industry and his company in particular, where he was certain his creative talents were being tragically wasted. More drinks were summoned as Anthony convinced Ezra to tell him about the progress with the bookshop, and they reminisced on the time that Ezra’s horrible uncle had found them looking at certain questionable materials during a holiday trip to the city and accused them of gross impropriety among his stacks. This led into a general picking over of what each of them had been doing since their graduation, parting, and broken promises to keep in touch. And at some point, Ezra gently guided the conversation around to their romantic lives.
“Dating’s such a crock, innit?” Anthony said with an amused moroseness, running a finger around the rim of his current glass. “Especially these days, all these apps and stuff, I just can’t with it.” He mimed swiping over and over.
“I don’t especially appreciate them either, truth to tell,” Ezra agreed, “So, not seeing anyone at the moment?”
“Nah. You?”
“Nor I. Just haven’t found the right person to settle down with, I suppose.”
“Well that’s the thing, right?” Anthony jerked upright, jostled his glass, then paused to take a sip after recovering it. “I do want to settle down, eventually, you know, find someone to share it all with. But even if you just want a nice fuck these days you have to put your whole damn cv on whatsit— dumble or tumblr or—”
“Maybe not tumblr.”
“Whatever, I can’t keep track of them all. It’s exhausting, I wish it wasn’t so complicated.”
Ezra opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if thinking better of what he’d been about to say. Anthony, staring moodily into his glass, did not notice.
“You know,” Ezra began again, and this time Anthony did notice, brows arching as Ezra leaned conspiratorially across the table, and his slouch straightened to match. “If you want something less… complicated, I know somewhere that’ll do the trick.”
“Oh yeah?” Anthony leaned in, folding his arms on the table.
“Yes. There’s a, ah, club I discovered here in town before I went away, and was pleased to discover on returning is alive and well. It’s for people like us who… well, just want to enjoy themselves sometimes, without all the faff. No expectations, anonymity, everyone goes away happy.”
“A sex club?” Anthony hissed, “You go to a sex club?”
“Hush, dear. And, well, yes.” Ezra, rather than blushing as Anthony had half expected him to, leaned a little closer. At this proximity, the faint, familiar, bergamot scent of him penetrated Anthony’s slightly drunken senses. “Shall I tell you more?”
“Go on then.”
“So, like I say, it’s all anonymous—”
“How’s that supposed to work?”
“Shut up and I’ll tell you.” The steel that lined Ezra’s words and the lift of his brow sent a shiver down Anthony’s spine. He shut up. “Thank you. So, it’s not your ordinary sex club, if you can call any of them ordinary. This one is all about anonymity, and making that part of the fun. Once you apply to join and are approved —yes, there’s quite the rigorous vetting process— all encounters are strictly anonymous. They deal in one-to-one liaisons, with both parties blindfolded. The restrained party—”
“The what?!”
“Oh yes, apologies.” Ezra’s eyes danced, and Anthony was quite certain he’d done that on purpose. “The real twist here is that liaisons are arranged through bidding. Once you’re in the system, you can decide each time you go if you’d like to bid on someone, or be bid on yourself. If you choose to be bid upon, your experience begins with being secured by the hands,” Ezra crossed his wrists, and indicated lifting them above his head, “to— well, usually to a bedframe, but there are options, and blindfolded. Meanwhile, the auction is being carried out. Those who choose to bid are given descriptions of the people they’re bidding on; no photos, just words. And of course your list of likes and dislikes, what gender or genders you’re open to, et cetera. Then the highest bidder for each goes to their prize, and,” here Ezra wiggled his fingers at Anthony, “has their way with them. Oh, and all the cash goes to the bid-ee, after the club takes their operational cut, so it can be quite a fun way to make some pocket money.”
Anthony was not quite sure whether he was fully conscious. He’d abandoned his drink entirely and was openly staring at Ezra, who seemed to have gotten even closer— or maybe he’d leaned in himself? The bar was suddenly too warm, and the noise all around had become as the low hum of bees. The only focused thing in the world was the face of the man in front of him.
“So… at this club, you’re telling me, they take you into a backroom—”
“A lounge.”
“Right. A lounge. Blindfold you and truss you up like a turkey then let whomever—”
“The highest bidder.”
“Yeah. Whoever, come in and suck you off—”
“Among other things. And they’re blindfolded too. No one knows. And you,” Beneath the table, where his legs had slowly sprawled out over the course of the evening, Anthony felt Ezra’s shift, one elegantly booted foot gliding along his own calf. “get to keep all the bids. And all the pleasure.”
With a sudden wink, Ezra sat back.
“Goodness, would you look at the time! It’s been so lovely to catch up Anthony, but I really must be getting home. Oh, here.” He pulled a slim wallet from his pocket and worked out a card. Anthony wasn’t quite sure where the pen came from, but then Ezra was scribbling on the back of it and handing it over. “My mobile number. Yes, I know, finally with the times. See you again soon, I hope?” He reached out to squeeze Anthony’s arm as he stood.
“Yeah.” Anthony responded vaguely, and Ezra was gone before he could form more coherent thoughts, swallowed up by the crowd. He looked down at the card, white stock with plain black printing, that read A.Z. Fell Antiquarian and Unusual Books, followed by the shop details. He turned it over, to see Ezra’s number written in blue ink. And also: Earthly Delights — if you’re interested.
*
The next day, considerably more sober, Anthony found himself seated in front of his laptop, jiggling his chair back and forth, staring at the card. Of all the things that he might've expected to come of the previous night’s meeting, this was not one of them. The Ezra he’d known had been shy and quiet for the most part— reserved until you really got to know him, and even then he’d never been forthright about, well, sex. Ezra had confided in Anthony quite early on that he was gay, but he also hadn’t been shouting about it. Quiet, shy, reserved, and it always seemed just a little bit afraid. Anthony, meanwhile, had just been discovering his sexuality, finding uni an excellent place to work out whether he really did like blokes as well as girls, which, as it turned out, he did. Brash, loud, and willing to shout insults back at the odd bigot, he was the one who’d gotten chucked out by his parents for his “loose morals”.
Something had changed in Ezra since that time in the bookshop when they’d been leering at pornographic woodcuts, and he’d looked up to see a spark of desire in his friend’s eyes as they looked at each other, breathing over the yellowing pages, before the horrible uncle had come barging in and declared that only queers looked at that sort of thing— nevermind that he had it in his bookshop. Something had changed since Anthony had sent Ezra off on what seemed like a promising date, only to have to comfort him on his return when the American exchange student had tried to go to far. Something had changed, since Ezra had told him he didn’t know how he felt about Anthony anymore, and they’d promised to talk about it, and never had; since he’d held onto Ezra’s hand a little too long when they’d said goodbye at the station after graduation, and failed to work up the nerve to seize him and kiss him and never let him go.
Anthony slapped the card down on his desk. Maybe he should just call Ezra, finally have it all out with him. He hadn’t gotten drunk enough to forget how he’d reacted to the man; his presence, his touch, his eyes, all the things that Anthony had only realised too late before called out to him in yearning. Something stirred in his groin as he recalled the brief command in Ezra’s voice, and the gentle, heavy warmth of his hand. Anthony pressed a palm to it in a misguided attempt to make it calm down, then sighed and scooted his chair to the desk. He just needed a good fuck, a nice casual fuck and then maybe his brain would be clear enough to deal with the sudden return of Ezra into his life. His eyes drifted to the card.
Several hours later, after reading every word of the simple, classy website that was the digital representation of Earthly Delights, Anthony hit submit on the application form. It had indeed been exhaustive, asking all sorts of specifics about his personal details, history, likes and dislikes, preferences; requiring several forms of ID, proof of income, consent to conduct background and credit checks, and sexual health reports. It seemed like an awful lot to trust a website that was, to him, entirely unknown. But Ezra had recommended it, and not enough had changed between them for him to distrust that.
Given the extent of the application, Anthony hadn’t exactly been expecting an instant turnaround, but he was still on tenterhooks for the several days it took to be approved. When his phone rang with an unknown number, his heart went into his throat, and he answered at once.
“He- hello?” he croaked, and a cool, feminine voice replied.
“Hello, may I speak to Anthony Crowley?”
“This is he.”
“Wonderful. Mister Crowley, I’m delighted to inform you that your application to join the Garden of Earthly Delights has been accepted.”
“Oh that’s- that’s great news, thank you.”
“We always look forward to welcoming new members, and hope to see you soon. You’ll be receiving an email shortly with instructions on how to set up your account on the website, which will allow you to set your preferences and book in for sessions, including which role you would like to take on a given day. You’ll also be asked to enter your bank details, so you can be credit or debited, as appropriate. Any debit will of course require an individual authorisation at the time. Do you have any questions at the moment?”
“Not, er, not just now, thanks.”
“Lovely. If anything comes up, do give us a ring or drop us an email, all the contact information will be available to you once your register online. Welcome to the Garden!”
She rang off, and Anthony slowly lowered the phone from his ear. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but it was long enough that a ping came from his computer signalling the arrival of the promised email. He collapsed into his chair and opened it, skimming the contents and their repeated assurances of discretion with the information he would shortly be inputting to his profile. He glanced down at the phone still in his hand.
Since sending in his application he’d made contact with Ezra by text, thanking him for a lovely evening and hoping to do it again soon, all the usual, and they’d been casually messaging back and forth as renewed acquaintances, trading stupid memes, and generally easing back into knowing each other. Anthony’s thumb had tapped his chat with Ezra without even thinking about it, and he abruptly flung his phone away, then cringing at the clattering sound it made on the floor. No, he wasn’t quite ready to share this news.
*
He was nervous. There was no denying it, but Anthony had turned up to the club with its discreet, black-painted entry and doorman whose uniform wouldn’t have been out of place at any other private club, after parking several blocks away. Much as he loved the indulgence that was his vintage Bentley, it was a very distinctive car. He presented his (digital) card to the doorman, who nodded politely and opened the door without comment, and stepped into the Garden of Earthly Delights for the first time.
The lighting of this entry corridor was low, but he kept his glasses on, not quite ready to surrender the armour they provided. There was a door at the end of the corridor, and he pushed through it to find himself in a reception area, complete with desk and attendant.
“Hello,” the crisp young man behind the desk greeted Anthony with a gracious smile, “and welcome to the Garden. Your card, please?” Silently Anthony presented it again, and the attendant nodded. “Your first visit, I see! You’re most welcome, Mr. Crowley.”
“Thanks.”
“I can take your coat and check it here, then you’ll just go through that door to the right.” Anthony followed the direction of the attendant’s gesture as he shrugged off his coat.
“What’s what way?” he asked, handing over the garment and jerking his head to the left.
“Oh, that’s the bidders’ lounge. To keep things as anonymous as possible, each of the roles has a separate section of the club at the start of the night. Don’t worry, you’ll be terribly well looked after and walked through everything prior to going to your private lounge to await the lucky bidder. Do you have any questions?”
“Not that I can think of right now.” Anthony managed to squeeze out a laugh, and the attendant smiled kindly.
“It’s okay if you’re nervous, most people are on their first visit. Hopefully tonight will help soothe those nerves!” Anthony laughed again, nodded his thanks, and made for the right-hand door before he decided to turn and run instead.
In a moment of feverish boldness— or cowardice, or both, he wasn’t quite sure— he’d booked in for tonight’s session to be bid upon. As much as he kept telling himself just wanted a nice fuck, Anthony really wasn’t sure what it was he was looking for now. He kept thinking of Ezra, and all the potential complications he brought with him, but also the potential, and god the way his eyes had looked in that amber light and the stretch of the fabric across his thighs as he’d stood up from the table— At some point, Anthony had decided that he wanted this kind of anonymous release, and that he didn’t want to be responsible for making it happen, that he wanted someone else to take the initiative; and behind his blindfold, he could imagine whatever he wanted.
Now he was stepping into another room, and it too was lit dimly, with dark amber fixtures above and deep purple strips lining the top of the wainscoting around the walls. There was a bar at one end, and another uniformed attendant approached him as he entered, smiling.
“Mister Crowley, welcome.” He was sure by the voice that this was the same woman he’d spoken to on the phone, and somehow that reassured him. He nodded.
“Hullo.”
“I understand it’s your first evening with us, may I show you around before it’s time to prepare for your liaison?”
“Er, sure.”
“Wonderful, follow me.”
He did so, looking around the room as they passed through it. There were a good number of people in it, either seated in the various chair as couches, or standing in small groups, or at tall tables. He received a number of welcoming nods and waves, and did his best to return them as he and his guide passed the bar.
“Softs, mixers, and virgin only, here,” she said, indicating the bar, “we want everyone to be clear headed. It’s the same on the bidders’ side.” She held open the door at the far side of the room, ushering Anthony though it. The corridor they entered was narrower than the others, and similarly dark, and its walls were dotted with a series of doors.
“Each of these leads to one of the private lounges, which are quite soundproof, I assure you,” his guide explained, “and can only be accessed by members by scanning your card on the assigned door— and the same for the bidder entering from the other side. Staff are also able to access the rooms in case of emergency. Ah, here we are,” she halted before a door at the far end of the corridor. “Scan your card here, please.” Anthony lifted his phone and held the pass with its little QR code to the scanner, and the door’s lock promptly clicked. His guide stepped through, and beckoned him inside.
The theme of low light continued here and, starting to feel slightly less tense, Anthony slipped off his glasses to take in the room. It wasn’t huge, but plenty large enough for the lush-looking king-sized bed that was set with its head against one wall, and the nightstand on either side of it. The lighting was soft and welcoming, and the bed looked the same, deep and spacious and comfortable. The room was warm— just on the edge of too warm at the moment, but Anthony had a feeling that as soon as his layers came off, it would be perfect.
“The loo’s through here,” his guide indicated a door next to the bed, “and there’s a cubby there for your clothes and things as well. The nightstands should have whatever you may need in terms of supplies, and you’re welcome to peruse them beforehand. That light there,” she pointed to a small, green dot Anthony had not yet noticed, glowing above another door that faced the bed, “will indicate the status of the room. It’s green now because we’re in the waiting phase, while the auction’s going on next door.”
Anthony’s stomach clenched, but not in a fearful way. At some point anticipation had crept in, and now flooded his legs. His guide went on.
“Soon it’ll go to amber, meaning the auction is finished. At that point you should be getting ready, and when you are, I’ll come back in and secure and blindfold you. Once that’s done and you’re happy, we’ll set it to red, and your bidder’s door will unlock to let them in from where they’ve been getting ready on the other side. Now,” her tone was businesslike as she crossed to the bed, sitting on the edge and patting it for Anthony to join her. “While, as you know, we are extremely scrupulous in who we allow to join the Garden, we do have measures in place for your safety and security. If you would just lie here for a moment?” Anthony had sat, and now rolled up onto the bed, stretching out in the centre, head on the pillows.
“Now, reach up here please.” He did as he was bidden, putting his hands over his head between the sturdy bars at the head of the bed. “You’ll be bound, as you’re aware, but not tightly to the bars, and there’s a panic button just here— can you reach?” Anthony slipped his hands through the bars, and felt the large button on the wall behind the bed. He nodded. “Good. Press that in case of any misconduct by your bidder, and security will come in at once. There is also a small microphone next to it, so you can also shout the safeword your input into your profile, and security will be alerted in the same manner. Alright?”
Anthony nodded, and the light above the door flicked to amber.
“Oh, looks like things are moving fast on the other side!” His guide stood and gestured for him to do the same. “Not to worry though, you take all the time you need to have a nosey around the room and get yourself ready. Press the button when you’re ready for me to come back— it only becomes a panic after we open the door to the bidder. Alright?”
“Yes, thank you.” She slipped from the room, and he was alone. Slowly Anthony circled the space, pausing to rifle through the nightstands and their truly astounding array of supplies— all of which, he noted, had options in the scents or flavours he had indicated he preferred. He pushed open the door and stepped into the loo, where soft lighting activated automatically. This room was nearly half the size of the other, with a large sink, plenty of counterspace, a well-supplied linen closet, a shower of truly decadent proportions, a freestanding bath, and a very nice cubby with several small shelves. Trying not to be too impressed or overwhelmed at the scale of the operation, Anthony began to disrobe.
In for a penny, in for a pound: he had already decided there was no point in trying to preserve any modesty, given what he was here for. The staff were obviously well used to their role in all this, and probably didn’t bat an eye at anybody’s bits. Piece by piece his clothing came off, neatly folded into the cubby along with the personal effects from his pockets, until he stood naked on the tile, skin prickling into gooseflesh despite the warmth. He didn’t stop to examine himself in the mirror: Anthony was neither especially vain nor especially self-critical, but any time spent ruminating on what might be considered his flaws was hardly going to serve him well just now. He went back into the main room, climbed up onto the bed, and pressed the button.
Only a moment later his guide (he would have to get her name eventually) returned, carrying a selection of short ropes. As he had expected, she was eminently professional, merely offering him his choice of restraint, and ensuring he was in a comfortable position before looping the soft, wide rope around his wrists in a practised fashion. She showed him to knot she would use to tie the rope to the bars above his head, and how it could be quickly released, as every bidder was trained to do should an emergency arise. Satisfied by his nods of understanding, she gently guided his arms over his head, and secured the rope. Anthony gave an experimental tug, and felt the friction of the rope against his skin, the pressure and resistance from its anchor. His guide smiled, and produced the blindfold.
“I’m going to tie this nice and snug, but not too tight. Now remember,” and for the first time, a cheeky note crept into her voice as she plunged him into darkness, “no peeking!”
Anthony was alone again. He’d heard the door click shut and lock behind his guide when she left, which must mean that the light above the other door was now red. If its lock had clicked, he hadn’t heard it; maybe it’d happened at the same time as his entrance had secured itself. He squirmed, still adjusting to the feeling of his arms being pulled above his head. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a novel tension in his shoulders that seemed to spread itself to the rest of his body. His breathing had quickened, and he was certain the thrumming of his pulse must be audible in the room.
So intent was Anthony on the prevarications of his own body, that he almost missed the opening of the door. His breath caught as he realised the new, soft click must have been it swinging open; then in the quiet he heard the tentative pad of footsteps, by someone who must have been as blind as he. Then there was the soft thump of what he imagined must be a leg coming into contact with the foot of the bed. He couldn’t see, could barely hear the other person; but it was as if he could feel them, the buffeting waves of their presence as they approached. He bit his lip.
Then there was a slight dip in the bed, under the pressure of someone else putting weight on it. A searching hand found and grasped his ankle. Anthony gasped and flinched. The hand withdrew sharply. Then, after a pause, returned, settling slowly onto his ankle in a gentle apology. This time Anthony merely breathed deep, willing himself to relax as the hand began to slide up his leg. It was warm and broad, firm and weighty as it stirred up the hairs on his calf with its passage, and set every nerve in Anthony’s body afire.
The man (Anthony had requested to be paired with a man tonight, for no particular reason of course) climbed up onto the bed as his reach seemed to come to its limit, just below Anthony’s hip. He could feel the heat of the other now, as the stranger’s legs straddled one of his own, free hand dimpling the bed at Anthony’s side, aiding his climb up the mattress. Only the one hand still touched him, continuing its journey upwards; over his hip, his waist, up through the thin trail of ginger curls that pointed the way from his groin, and finally to his chest, where it bumped over a tight-strung nipple.
“Ah!” Anthony inhaled sharply, but his body jerked towards the hand, not away from it. He’d been so focused on the hand’s progress that he hadn’t realised the reactions of his own body, and now he trembled as the hand paused, laying firmly across one side of his chest. Then the thumb swept back and forth over his nipple again like the string of a guitar, sending electric shocks straight to his groin and pulling a nasal whine from his throat. The man above him gave a low, pleased sort of hum. Anthony felt him shifting, the hand came off his chest, and he imagined that the stranger was lowering himself to a forearm as the bed on that side dipped slightly, and he heat of his body grew nearer. The other hand touched him now, running up the side of his neck and into his hair as a mouth closed around his nipple.
Anthony’s hands jerked at his bonds, reflexively trying to go to his partner, but the knots held and prevented him, leaving him only to mewl and squirm as the hot, wet tongue alternately flicked and laved at the sensitive peak. The hand in his hair tightened, and Anthony became aware of what felt like every drop of blood in his body rushing to his cock. His hips jerked, and for the first time he touched the stranger, turgid flesh brushing against the hovering belly.
Teeth grazed Anthony’s nipple, then the mouth removed itself, exposing the skin to air. The belly retreated, as did the hand in his hair. Anthony’s lips parted in protest, but before he could decide whether or not to speak, both strange hands were on him; roaming his body, exploring his skin, seeming to desire to map every inch of him. And in their wake came lips, searing kisses planted all over his body, mingled here and there with sucking teeth and tongue that pulled and teased at every sensitive place, those he’d known he had and otherwise.
They lingered on his neck, causing Anthony to groan and pull against the restraints as his partner sucked thin skin into his mouth over and over. Anthony rutted against the air, trying to reach him, until at last the stranger lowered himself. Their bodies pressed together with impossible heat, trapping Anthony’s swollen cock and what he could now feel was the stranger’s equally hard one between them. One hand came down on Anthony’s wrists, gripping them tight below the knots and held him fast, pressing them demandingly into the bed as the mouth once again worried the well of his throat, and the stranger’s free hand explored the outside of Anthony’s leg, where a ropy scar lanced.
He couldn’t say how long this had gone on, time seemed to have utterly dissolved, but the grip around his wrists turned Anthony into a slithering, panting mess. He’d never thought of himself as especially kinky in the past, but there was something about this situation, this person that sent his brain and body into overdrive. He turned his head towards his partner, suddenly his face was full of curls, and he smelt hair and skin and sweat and a thread of citrus. A jolt went through Anthony’s already keyed-up body, and his eyes screwed tight shut under the blindfold as he wheezed,
“Please.”
At once the stranger released him, and Anthony almost cried out— but he was forestalled by the man slithering down his frame, pushing himself lower on the bed until he settled between Anthony’s legs. Then Anthony did cry out, tight, overheated flesh of his cock suddenly exposed to air again unbearable as his partner’s arm’s settled over his thighs. He should have known better, should have expected what was to come, but so distracted was Anthony that he couldn’t think a second ahead.
Behind the blindfold his vision whited out as, with indulgent deliberation, a broad, flat tongue, licked slowly up the underside of his cock from root to tip. The noise that escaped Anthony could only have been described as a howl. Firm hands gripped his hips to stop their writhing, pressing him into the bed with a strength that was likely to bruise, but only sent additional bolts of pleasure through Anthony’s spine as the tongue repeated its motion, just as deliberately. He could feel the precum oozing from his tip and sliding down the head of his cock, but no sooner had he felt it than the tongue was there, swirling around the head to lap it up.
It was a good thing the stranger’s grip was so strong, for when his mouth closed over the head of Anthony’s cock he lost control of himself completely, pushing back against the hands that pinioned him, yanking at his bonds with a strangled cry. The stranger made that satisfied hum again, but this time it was muffled by Anthony’s cock, and its vibrations rippled through him with a shiver. The the stranger worked his was steadily down Anthony’s length, bobbing his head with the same leisurely deliberation with which he’d begun; up, then then down, over and over, taking just a bit more the cock into his mouth each time.
Anthony could only pant and groan, fingers gripping and clenching on nothing, feeling the inexorable slide of his partner’s tongue down the underside of his cock as the mouth enveloped him bit by bit, sucking and swallowing the precum and drool that mingled there, the tongue undulating with each breathe its owner drew. Anthony felt the head of his cock bump against the back of the stranger’s throat, and the fingers on his hip tightened. The lips too tightened, forming a seal that drew a keen from Anthony as they withdrew, back up the length of his shaft until only the head remained inside his partner’s mouth. There it lingered for a moment, and the man’s tongue circled the head almost lazily, teasing the opening. Then, all at once, the stranger plunged down, engulfing the entirety of Anthony’s cock into his mouth and throat, nose buried in the coarse curls at its base.
Anthony yelped in a shock that quickly faded into delirious pleasure as he felt the mouth and tongue and throat working around his cock; sucking and licking and swallowing in a feat of coordination that he would no doubt appreciate more fully later. His partner’s head only moved in short, intent strokes now, and one hand released from Anthony’s hip. It slid up his body, pausing only to pinch and roll a nipple in passing, before the heel of it settled in the hollow of his throat. His partner clearly couldn’t reach quite far enough to squeeze, but nevertheless Anthony felt the weight of that hand and its purposeful fingers on his neck, tips pressing into the bruise the mouth had left. His breath and pulse raced beneath the thin pale skin that separated them from the heel of the stranger’s hand, and he thought he might simply combust. In fact—
“Ah! Ahh!” Anthony gasped, every bit of him straining, and his voice squeezed out high and breathless, “I’m— I’m gonna—”
The hand that still dug into his hip released to wrap around his thin waist, holding him tight and altering his partner’s angle of attack so that he could take Anthony still deeper if that were possible into his throat, and gaining the last inch required for his fingers to wrap firmly around his neck. Anthony screamed, body arching off the bed as his release wracked him with spasm after spasm of incomprehensible pleasure. The mouth around him contorted, working to swallow its new contents and keep a steady pressure around Anthony’s cock, and he was vaguely aware of the muffled noises his partner was making.
When the contractions finally eased and he relaxed enough to begin sucking in air again, still shuddering and shaking in the aftermath of his climax, Anthony felt the mouth carefully disengage from his softening cock, his partner letting it slip from his lips gently. Then the bed dipped and shifted, and Anthony was aware of the stranger now straddling him, and the wet sounds of what must’ve been a mix of his own saliva and Anthony’s spend in one of those broad hands moving up and down an unseen cock.
Anthony laughed breathlessly and pushed his chest forward, throwing his head back in invitation. He could hear the stranger’s heavy breathing, turning into bitten-off groans and pants as the speed of his motions increased until he came with a shout, painting hot stripes across Anthony’s chest. Anthony felt the other man sit back on his heels, and for a long moment they breathed together in the haze of their sex, recovering breath and focus, the stranger’s clean hand resting on Anthony’s belly.
Anthony shivered slightly, whether from lingering sensation or cooling sweat he did not know, but it was enough to send his partner into action. The stranger crouched close again and applied his tongue to Anthony’s chest, cleaning up his own spend in long, sweeping licks. Then he kissed upwards, across Anthony’s chest and neck, planting a gentle and appreciative kiss in the hollow of his jaw as he felt upwards for the ropes, and pulled the quick-release knot. Keeping a light pressure on Anthony’s now-free wrists, the stranger pressed a last, lingering kiss to the place on his neck that his teeth had worried, pulling a soft sigh from Anthony. The lips against Anthony’s neck formed into a smile.
Then the stranger rolled off the bed, and almost before he’d realised his partner had gone, Anthony heard the click and bolt of the door opposite the bed, signalling his exit. Slowly, Anthony sat up. He pulled the rope the rest of the way from his wrists and rubbed them mindlessly, until he realised he was still wearing the blindfold. He pulled it from his head easily, blinking against even the room’s dim lighting until his eyes adjusted. He rolled to the side of the bed, swung his legs off it, and stood unsteadily for a moment, then made his way to the bathroom.
In the shower his skin shrivelled beneath the water, shying away from its pressure until the warmth seeped in, and with it a bone-deep relaxation. Anthony sagged against one of the warm tile walls and allowed the water to run over him, reliving what he’d just experienced in his mind, still hardly believing he’d done it. Straightening, he turned, and caught sight of himself in the mirror through the shower’s glass doors. This time he did linger, examining himself through the steam as he washed, picking out each mark and un-faded patch of redness the encounter had left on his body.
Yet somehow, despite having just had what was absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent the best blowjob of his life, he was unsatisfied.
*
An hour later, Anthony stood outside a dark shop door in SoHo and pounded on it until a lamp flicked on behind the shades. He stepped back slightly, and the door was wrenched open.
“I’m afraid we are most certainly cl— Anthony! What on earth are you doing here, it’s the middle of the n—”
Anthony lunged forward, cutting off Ezra’s exclamation by crushing their mouths together as he forced them back through the entrance. He kicked the door shut with his heel, swallowing Ezra’s startled gasp and turning them both on the spot, one arm around Ezra’s waist, other hand clenched in his hair, and slammed him back against the wall. Relief and lust flooded Anthony in equal measure as Ezra clutched him back, pushing into the kiss, shifting and renewing it as he pressed his hips into Anthony’s and grazed his lips with a curious tongue. Anthony pulled back with a sharp exhalation, just enough to growl into the suddenly scorching space between them,
“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m never going to get up the courage to ask you again.”
Ezra’s grin flashed out, and there was a hunger in his voice Anthony had never heard before.
“You’d better come upstairs.”
How they navigated the narrow staircase to the flat above the shop Anthony wasn’t quite sure, but he found himself being pulled bodily through a door at the top of it, shoved against it as soon as it had closed, and being devoured in a reversal of his entrance below. Ezra crowded into him, holding him pressed against the door with his broad chest, one leg thrust between Anthony’s and one hand tangling in his hair as they kissed; hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses full of panting breaths and uncoordinated teeth snagging on lips and tongues, shifting heads and the desire for more.
Ezra’s hands dropped to Anthony’s waist, pulling the shirt insistently up and over his head. Anthony obliged, and when his hands were free the dropped to squeeze between their bodies, working frenziedly to undo the buttons of Ezra’s shirt. As he fumbled at his task, Ezra’s hands were at more expert work undoing Anthony’s fly, but he gave a growl of frustration when he tried to slip his hands in the sides of the trousers. Seizing Anthony by one wrist and the waist, he spun him about and pushed him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and collapsed.
“Why you insist on wearing these ridiculous—” Ezra muttered, taking a firm grip on the seams on Anthony’s thighs and giving a sharp tug. Anthony set his hands on the bed behind him and lifted his hips, staring dumbstruck at the figure of Ezra before him, barrel chest bare beneath the open shirt, eyes dark and intent as they reflected the fire that was the room’s only light. A second yank did the trick, and then Ezra was pawing the trousers the rest of the way from Anthony’s legs and ripping his own shirt the rest of the way off to fling into the darkness.
Anthony reached out to him, and Ezra vaulted up onto the bed, scrambling up over Anthony even as he pressed him down into the pillows with an urgent kiss. Anthony’s arms wrapped around Ezra, feeling the breadth and latent power of him as his body shifted. Ezra separated his face from Anthony’s with a pull of lip between his teeth, and at once lowered his head to Anthony’s neck, attacking it with sucking kisses as one hand went between them to undo his own trousers. Anthony sucked in a sharp breath as Ezra’s mouth found the place where the stranger had earlier lingered with such devotion. Ezra started to pull back, but one of Anthony’s hands smacked down on the back of his head and pressed him into the spot. Ezra needed no further telling, licking and sucking with abandon.
When Ezra pulled away it was only to sit back and shuck off his own trousers and underwear in one, releasing his rigid cock from its confines. Anthony propped himself up on his elbows, eyes lingering there greedily. Again he reached out to Ezra, who obeyed his summons, shuffling closer again, and his cock settled into Anthony’s outstretched hand as he leaned over him, lowering his hands to the bed again. Ezra groaned softly as Anthony stroked him, head hanging to rest on Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony turned his head to bite lightly at Ezra’s ear, and suddenly found himself forced back down into the mattress and Ezra’s hands ripping off the underpants that were the last layer between them. Anthony’s cock lolled heavy against his belly, and he moaned as Ezra’s fingers wrapped around it, giving it a firm stroke as he leaned forward to nip at Anthony’s nipples.
“Need you now,” he breathed as he mouthed at the taut skin.
“Please, Ezra, please, I want—” Ezra sealed his mouth over Anthony’s, and Anthony could feel the dip of the bed and hear a clattering sound as Ezra fiddled about in the nightstand. A moment later he pulled away, sitting back to his heels a packet and a bottle in his hand. In a trice he’d ripped open the packet and rolled the condom down his cock— but then he paused, and Anthony saw an achingly familiar tentative expression come over Ezra’s face as he rested a hand on Anthony’s hip.
“Anthony, are you sure—”
“Jesus fuck, Ez, in me, now!”
Ezra grinned wolfishly, laughing between his teeth as he squeezed the bottle into his hand and rubbed it up and down his cock to coat it liberally. Anthony’s planted his feet on the bed outside Ezra’s hips and let his knees fall apart. Ezra wrapped one arm around Anthony’s folded leg and hugged it too him as his lubed hand slipped between Anthony’s cheeks, seeking and finding his entrance, slowly circling and covering it with the slippery gel. Then he took hold of his cock again, and pressed the head to Anthony’s entrance. Anthony took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, willing himself to relax.
Both men groaned as Ezra’s cockhead breached Anthony and slipped inside, gripped tight by a ring of muscle.
“Fuck,” Ezra panted, “fuck. Okay?”
“Yeah,” Anthony said hoarsely, fingers clutching at Ezra’s arm where it wrapped around his leg, “More, more!”
Ezra pressed forward slowly, working back and forth with shallow thrusts of his hips until finally they pressed against Anthony’s arse, their ecstatic sounds mingling as he bottomed out. Ezra bent forward and pressed his chest to Anthony’s as he began to thrust anew, shifting his grip on Anthony’s leg. Anthony arched up to meet him, hips hiking up as one of his hands snaked up the back of Ezra’s neck to sink into his hair. He turned his face to bury it in those curls and breathed deep. The citrusy-bergamot scent of him struck Anthony’s sinuses at the same time as Ezra’s fingers fell to the scar on Anthony’s leg. Both of them froze suddenly, and Ezra jerked back.
“Anthony,” Ezra breathed, a look of horrified realisation creeping across his face in the firelight, “Oh, Anthony, I—”
“Fuck,” Anthony hissed, “fuck!” Then he was pushing at Ezra’s chest, abdomen flexing as he reared up and against him. Off-balance, Ezra toppled over onto his back and, still connected, Anthony came with him. Now straddling Ezra from above, Anthony planted on hand on his chest and began to work his hips up and down. “Of course it was you,” he panted, “Oh, fuck—”
“Anthony, I didn’t know, I—”
“I know,” Anthony tossed his head back, eyes closed as he leaned against Ezra’s knees, still fucking him feverishly, “I didn’t either. But I imagined— god— wanted it to be you—"
“Then you’re not—”
“No, Christ, no.” Anthony yelped as a pinching thumb and finger came around one of his nipples and a mouth around the other as Ezra sat up, wrapping his arms around Anthony to hold them together as Anthony ground his hips down.
“And did you like it,” Ezra breathed, releasing the nipple in his mouth, pinching the other still harder, “Did you like it when I teased you, when I marked you, oh, darling—” With Anthony now facing the fire, the mottled colours and teeth marks Ezra had left on his neck earlier that night were now clearly visible. “When I bruised you—”
“Yes, Ez—” Ezra’s mouth and tongue pressed once again to the tender crook of Anthony’s neck and he whined.
“Did you like it,” Ezra hummed against Anthony’s neck, “when I held you down, when I made you hold still for me so I could worship your cock the way you deserve—”
“Yes, fuck, yes!”
Before he knew what was happening Anthony was on his back again, his wrists held above his head in the crushing grip of one of Ezra’s broad hands while his other forearm braced itself against the bed, and he pounded into Anthony with ruthless abandon. Anthony howled, surrendering utterly to Ezra’s treatment, unable to do anything but writhe and twist and try to press his hips up to meet the hammering thrusts.
“Won't. Last.” Ezra grunted into Anthony’s ear, and Anthony turned his head to scrape his teeth against the straining neck that was just within his reach.
“Yes, yes, yes!” The pressure on his wrists increased as Ezra squeezed his free hand between their sweating bodies, and pausing only to collect the precum from its head, wrapped his fingers around Anthony’s cock between them. His firm grip and a few more thrusts was all it took to push Anthony over the edge, and the clenching spasms of his climax dragged Ezra over it with him, both of them crying out with hoarse ecstasy. Once their shudders had faded to trembling and calmer breath, Ezra extricated his sticky hand from between them and gently collapsed onto Anthony. Anthony raised his head and Ezra turned to meet it, and this kiss was slow and soft and gentle. Anthony grinned into it, and Ezra chuckled.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
One long, hot shower and much tousling of hair in towels later, they stripped the bed and remade it together, before climbing in in a tangle of limbs.
“I suppose we have a lot to talk about,” Ezra murmured, and the rumble of his voice reverberated into Anthony from where his head was tucked into the crook of Ezra’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” he replied, snuggling closer, tightening his arms around Ezra, and receiving an answering squeeze in turn. “Yeah, but it can wait until morning.”
“Technically it’s morning now.”
“Shaddup.”
“Later in the morning, then.”
“Yeah.”
Anthony let his eyes fall closed, meaning only to rest them a moment, sure they weren’t actually done talking yet, but he was asleep at once. Ezra followed, and they breathed quietly as a single entwined being for some time, cozy in the crackling light. Then as always happens, one or the other of them moved in his sleep, and then the other, and they gradually separated. Dawn crept up behind the curtains, but they slept on, sated and warm. Neither had to work that day and Someone only knew where their phones had gone, so they slept undisturbed for quite an impressive time.
Eventually Anthony stirred. He was first aware of an aching, bone-deep satisfaction in his body, and then a light happiness in his mind. Stretching languidly on his side, he opened his eyes, to find Ezra watching him, clearly also recently awakened. Anthony smiled. Ezra smiled back.
“I’ve loved you since the moment we met.”