Originally posted on Fiction with Friction in 2009.
NOT SAFE FOR WORK
©2009 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved
The mouthwatering scent of traditional Thanksgiving fare mingled with the moist, fruity scent from his shower as Ferris emerged from the bathroom. Hesitant, he stepped into Max’s bedroom, letting his eyes adjust to the darker room as he draped his towel over the back of a cushiony indigo settee. “Sir, aren’t we going out?”
“We are. Later.” His master set a small platter of turkey meat amidst the array of the food dishes that sat at one end of the long, sturdy table Max usually used for drafting or cutting fabric. The table had once been a fine, dark wood dining table and this afternoon its normal covering was gone so it could serve as one as well, although the setting was noticeably lopsided with all the food at one end and just a single, incomplete place setting at the other. “But first, you and I must eat.” Max busied himself with lighting the candelabra set in the center. “You know how those people are. The food there will be scarce if present at all.”
True. They were due to have Thanksgiving with a group of friends from work, most of whom were militantly image-conscious. Ferris had worried what might be served for dinner, sure that the normal fattening foods would be out. Leave it to Max to take care of him.
Ferris smiled, enjoying Max’s good mood. They had been dating just a little under a month, almost inseparable since Ferris had proclaimed himself on Halloween. It had taken a lot of nerve and some help from a friend, but Ferris considered the night he’d worn that sexy white rabbit costume and opened up to Max, who had been dressed as the Queen of Hearts, the best night of his life. Although, many of his nights with Max since had been the stuff of his fantasies as well. He’d discovered that the man with whom he’d been obsessed for three years had turned out to not only be sexy as hell and an astoundingly inventive lover, but he was also personable and surprisingly down-to-earth. Strange to find in a man who was a star designer of clothing and more. He looked so exotic with brown slanted eyes, slim, androgynous face and an abundant cascade of rich raven hair, but he had a wicked sense of humor and something about him just made you trust him. Well, made Ferris trust him, at any rate.
Ferris waited while Max finished what he was doing, completely comfortable with being naked. It’s how Max preferred him and Ferris couldn’t deny the thrill he got when those dark eyes watched him. The only ‘clothing’ Max insisted on was the fitted white collar Ferris now wore to show the world who he belonged to, which Ferris wore with pride. Truthfully, he preferred Max to be naked as well, but he didn’t mind the shimmery black silk drawstring pants that Max now wore. Besides, he wore nothing else, his slim, toned torso gleaming in the light from perhaps two dozen candles lit about the periphery of the room. His long hair was pulled into a loose tail that banded between his sharp shoulder blades and his face was bare of the cosmetics he would apply for going out into the public. The setting was intimate. Cherished. Ferris felt that he belonged.
Max finished lighting the candles and set down the Zippo. He poured a glass of red wine, sipped from it, then set it beside the plate-less place setting at the end of the table with the chair. Smiling, he held out a hand to Ferris. “Come, bunny.”
Ferris went gladly, taking the extended hand and stepping into the warmth of his master’s personal space.
Max smiled down at him, gazing lovingly at his face. “Hungry?”
“Yes.” Ferris let his gaze tell Max that he was hungry for more than just food.
Chuckling softly, Max brushed his lips over Ferris’s brow, the tip of his nose, then his lips but that was all. He stepped toward the table and patted the plate-less setting. “Up you go.”
Ferris’s cock had begun to fill when he stepped out of the bathroom to see Max’s preparations. It swelled even more as he started to get an inkling of what Max had in mind. Max helped hoist him up until his butt sat in the middle of the placemat. “Good.” Max picked up a pair of heavy, gilded candlesticks and held them out to Ferris. “Here.”
Curious but willing, Ferris took them.
“Now.” Max picked up his engraved Zippo and used it to light the red candles stuck in the holders. “You will hold these and you will not let the flames go out. Understand?”
Ferris eyed the thick tapers and tested the weight of the candlesticks. Each one of them had to be a good pound. “Yes, sir.”
Max set the Zippo down. “Yes?”
He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to his question but it didn’t hurt to get confirmation. Max rarely discouraged questions. “How will I eat?”
Max smiled, reaching up to cup Ferris’s jaw to tilt his head back. “I will feed you.”
Ferris whimpered as Max took his lips in a deliciously involved kiss. He clutched the candlesticks, thankful they were so thick and heavy that they wouldn’t bend in his grip. He drank in Max’s taste, a little frustrated that he couldn’t touch his master’s skin. But he knew Max would make it worth it. Not once had he left Ferris remotely unsatisfied. When Max drew his lips away, Ferris left his head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted, knowing that this look often encouraged Max into more kissing.
But this time a thumb swiped over his lower lip. “I could eat you up.” He laughed softly as he stepped back. “But, perhaps, we should try some of the excellent fare I’ve ordered.” He took a sip of wine, offered one to Ferris, then set the glass down and headed for the food at the other end of the table. “You may set the candles down if you wish. Just don’t let go and don’t let the flames go out.”
Thankful, Ferris let the wide, solid bases clunk on the tabletop to either side of the placemat, wary of the flickering flames at the tips of the tapers. He glanced over his shoulder and watched Max fill a small plate with bites of food. He used his fingers rather than the utensils that sat among the platters. Ferris shivered in anticipation every time Max sucked his fingers clean.
“We won’t get anything like this tonight,” Max mused as he made his selections. “I imagine there’ll be an overabundance of tofu and raw vegetables.” He rolled his eyes. “Not that both don’t have their place, but this is Thanksgiving.”
Ferris smiled, relieved to hear it. Max was just as body conscious as any of his co-workers, but daily, rigorous morning workouts and a natural high metabolism kept him sleek and toned.
“Do you like dark meat, Ferris?” Max purred, returning to his place between Ferris’s knees.
Ferris focused on the long, elegant fingers that dunked a juicy bit of turkey into thick, dark gravy. “It’s my favorite, sir.”
“Me too.” He lifted the bite to Ferris’s lips and slid it in when Ferris opened up. “Although, there is something to be said for white meat.”
Ferris grinned, chewing as Max fed himself a bite of turkey, getting the dark versus white meat reference. He had decided that Max was at least partially East Indian, his skin tone well beyond olive and approaching mahogany brown. Ferris himself could not be more pure, Nordic white from the pale pink tips of his toes to the natural platinum blond of his hair. The two of them were a study in opposites, a fact that Ferris treasured. Max seemed to appreciate it as well.
Meat grease and gravy covered Max’s fingers as he fed Ferris another bite. This time, he let the tips of his fingers linger, allowing Ferris to lap at them. “I happen to enjoy traditional Thanksgiving fare. My mother used to love cooking Thanksgiving dinner and it was the one time she allowed us to help.”
Ferris lit up. “You helped cook?”
Max chuckled, licking his fingers clean. “I did.” He picked up the glass of wine that sat by Ferris’s hip. “I was in charge of mashing potatoes and making pies.”
Delighted at this peek into Max’s past, Ferris sipped the wine he was offered. “How old were you?”
Bemused, Max set down the glass after Ferris declined a sip and scooped up fluffy, garlic-scented mashed potatoes onto three fingers. “Oh, that was from about the time I was six until I was twelve.” He offered the fingers and potatoes to Ferris and watched as it disappeared into his mouth. “Do you like?”
Ferris let his eyes roll and hummed. “Very much. Did you make this?”
“Oh no.” It looked like real regret in those dark eyes. “You know very well I don’t have time to cook.”
“I could cook for you.”
Max considered him as he had some potatoes himself. “Could you now?”
They continued eating, talking of favorite Thanksgivings gone by. Ferris brimmed with joy at being allowed to see this personal side of his lover. In the few weeks they’d been dating, most of their relationship had consisted of seduction, sex and pillow talk. Max was usually too busy for much else. Ferris understood but it made this leisure time all the more special.
He almost forgot he was naked. Until Max dropped a greasy tidbit of meat into his lap. They both looked down at it, a small scrap of brown that left an oil and gravy trail over the pale skin of Ferris’s belly and landed on his thigh, right by his cock.
Max grinned as he put aside his small plate of food. “Oops.” He planted a hand in the center of Ferris’s chest and nudged him back.
Swallowing, Ferris leaned back until his was propped on his elbows, fists tight around the candlesticks he faithfully held. Now he knew why Max had left this half of the table devoid of food. Meantime, Max placed his hands on Ferris’s thighs and leaned in to pick up the turkey with his teeth. Ferris could no more help the whimper that bled from his throat than he could the jump of his cock at the nearness of its master.
“Mmmm.” Max licked up the gravy trail beside Ferris’s navel. “It tastes better this way.”
With a wicked smile, he rounded the table to procure another handful of turkey. He set most of the warm meat on Ferris’s belly. After feeding Ferris a tidbit, he trailed another bite toward Ferris’s groin, very careful to avoid the filling red cock. Ferris tried to watch, tried not to squirm, tried to be a good plate as Max alternately nipped up pieces of turkey and lapped at his skin. He obediently opened his mouth when Max offered him a bite but he didn’t really taste anything, far too focused on the attention Max lavished on him. Mashed potatoes came next, piled at the apex of his groin so Max had to nuzzle in to get his freshly trimmed pubic hair clean. Grease, gravy and butter got all over Max’s cheeks and chin but he didn’t seem to mind. Ferris would never look at a green bean the same way again after the way Max used them to trace patterns on his belly, thigh and even his balls.
“Are you full yet, bunny?” Max asked, voice muffled as he lapped the stalk of Ferris’s cock. He’d yet to touch the tip in anyway but his wayward attentions had brought Ferris full to bursting.
Max suckled one of his testicles. “Don’t you have room for dessert?”
Ferris’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know.”
“Mmm, we’ll see about that.”
Ferris groaned, willingly bending his knee at Max’s prompting so his heel rested on the edge of the table. It opened his crotch more, allowing Max better access to that sensitive space behind his balls and the greedy little pucker beneath. Max lapped and suckled him, driving him crazy. Ferris cried out, giving his master his voice, knowing that Max needed to hear his enjoyment. He only barely remembered to keep a death grip on the candlesticks.
“Don’t move,” Max advised, standing.
Ferris watched him round the table, glad to see that the black silk pants were tented. At least he wasn’t the only one on edge.
Max returned with a pumpkin pie.
Max chuckled, picked up the dinner knife and set the pie tin on Ferris’s belly. Ferris hissed at the jolt of cool metal but it warmed almost instantly. He watched Max slice the pie completely, then set the knife aside. He picked up a slice and the canister of whipped cream Ferris hadn’t seen him place.
Cream fizzed out onto creamy orange brown goodness. “Do you like pumpkin pie, bunny?”
“You’re not just saying that to make me happy?”
“Good boy.” Max brought the pie to Ferris’s lips, leaving him no choice but to take a bite.
Spicy sweet exploded on his tongue. He groaned, chewing as Max took a bite himself.
“Oh yes, that’s delicious.” He shared the slice with Ferris, bite after bite, until that first piece was gone. He waited until Ferris swallowed before picking up the second slice. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m going to have to eat this one by myself.”
Eyes wide, mouth open in shock, Ferris watched Max upend the slice and smear it over his cock. The pie itself was just a little colder than room temperature but it might as well have been ice for the jolt it sent through Ferris. Creamy custard coated his shaft and a patch of his belly as well. Some even melded onto his balls. Max took a moment to admire the mess, then he added a healthy dose of whipped cream up the line of Ferris’s cock.
“Mmmm.” He set aside the whipped cream. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen pie look more scrumptious.” Calmly, he reached behind him to pull the chair up to the table. “I’ll bet it tastes even better.”
Ferris’s leg fell to the side, his heel still on the edge of the table, as Max dove in. He took his time lapping at every bit of the mess he’d made. Finally, the tip of Ferris’s cock found its way into the heat of Max’s mouth, mixed in amongst fluffy pie and melting cream. Ferris held on, held back. The solid bases of the candlesticks rattled in his shaky grip. He never wanted this to end but knew that he wouldn’t last much longer. Especially not when Max’s slick fingers toyed with his anus then boldly slid home.
Ferris’s head fell back. “Ungh! Max? I’m… can I…?”
Max had one hand wrapped around the base of Ferris’s cock while the fingers of the other toyed with that spot inside his body that was guaranteed to melt his brain. “Come for me, bunny.”
Ferris was nothing if not obedient. No sooner had Max’s lips closed around his tip than his body convulsed, his balls drew up and hot cum rushed out of him. Max kept his lips open, catching most of it but allowing a good amount to dribble back down Ferris’s shaft to mingle with the other stickiness that coated the younger man’s skin. Then, just to extend Ferris’s exquisite torture, he slowly lapped at cock, belly and groin until he’d cleaned most of the mess. By then, Ferris’s back was flush on the table, candlesticks held in a loose grip as he stared dazedly at the ceiling.
“Mmmm. A most excellent dessert,” Max declared, standing.
Ferris glanced down and his attention snared on Max’s hands as they drew the tie of his drawstring pants. Max’s cock emerged, full and flush, and like Pavlov’s dog, Ferris salivated.
Max let the pants fall and reached for the bottle of wine. “Well, done, bunny. You even managed to keep hold of the candlesticks.” Unconcerned with his hard on, he poured the rest of the liquid into the glass and drank. “You may let them go now, bunny.” Max held the half empty glass over Ferris’s chest. “Have a drink.”
Slowly, still dazed from his orgasm, Ferris pried his fingers from the candlesticks and sat up. Rather than reach for the glass, he braced on his arms and parted his lips. Max’s dark smile was worth the submission. He placed the rim of the glass at Ferris’s lips and tilted the liquid into his mouth.
“You are perfection, my sweet,” he murmured as Ferris drank. “What did I do to deserve you?”
Ferris licked his lips as Max drew the glass away. His attention immediately fell to Max’s upthrust cock. “I don’t’ I’m not?”
Max’s hands came up to cup his head, tilting his face up. “Shhh.” Lips pressed to lips, parted to allow tongues to play. “And now,” Max murmured over Ferris’s lips, “for the digestif.”
Ferris asked before he could think to stop. “A what?”
“You’ve heard of an ap’ritif? A drink before dinner?” Max took a step back, holding out his hand and nodding to indicate Ferris should hop down.
Ferris obeyed. “Yes.”
Max sat on the wide, solid chair, still holding Ferris’s hand. “A digestif is a drink after dinner. Or –” he tugged Ferris’s hand and guided him to kneel on the chair, straddling his lap, “– in this case, an after dinner treat.”
Ferris was all for that. He willingly adjusted under Max’s guidance until he was exactly where Max wanted him. The same place he wanted to be: with Max’s cock bumping hard and promising against the crack of his ass. He clutched the sturdy back of the chair as Max used one of his hands to spread Ferris’s cheeks while the other pressed his cock to Ferris’s entrance.
Max kissed at his neck as his fingers tested Ferris’s hole. “Let me in, bunny?” Max murmured right above Ferris’s white collar.
“Always,” Ferris sighed, amazing Max even felt the need to ask.
His entrance stretched and squeezed, taking Max in one slow glide. Once Max’s cock was fully seated, Max’s hands began to roam, stroking Ferris’s back and buttocks. Ferris knew that sign. He was to take over. Clutching the back of the chair, he made good use of his thigh muscles to pull himself up and mostly off Max’s cock before sliding back down. Soon enough, he got used to the position and found a groove, fucking himself on Max’s cock, with Max’s murmured encouragement. His own cock was spent but tried to rally as he worked Max toward orgasm. He adored the way Max groaned, how he grew louder, how his caresses grew rough and his nails scraped the skin of Ferris’s back. Ferris whimpered, striving to move faster, wanting Max to tumble over that brink into ecstasy and know that he took him there.
When Max stopped him he obeyed but cried out in dismay. Not wanting to lose that heated warmth inside him.
“Shhh, bunny, stand up.”
No sooner was he on his feet than Max spun him around, bending him over the edge of the table. They both cried out as Max shoved back in, nailing Ferris’s g-spot with a force to send tingles racing through his limbs. The table was a little too tall for Ferris. His toes barely touched the carpet as Max pinned him to the table and began to truly fuck him. Crying in gorgeous agony, Ferris clutched the sides of the table and begged his master for more. Max draped his heated body over Ferris’s back, tangling fingers in his hair to pull his head aside. Ferris adored the clamp of lips and teeth to his neck, wishing Max were a vampire so he could drink Ferris dry. Ferris was quite sure he could die happily on the spot.
The table shook, platters bouncing as Max pounded into him. The wine glass tipped, rolled and toppled to the floor. One of Ferris’s candlesticks fell over into the remains of the turkey platter. Neither man could have cared less.
“God. Ferris.” Ferris knew that sound, knew Max was close.
“Yours. Always. Max.”
The words might have done it. Or it might have been coincidence. Regardless, Max grunted, keened softly, then tensed as he came deep inside Ferris’s body.
Ferris slumped on the table, spent, wrecked and ecstatic. Max braced on elbows above him, breathing heavily, the weight of his tail of hair draping his arm, Ferris’s arm and the table. He kissed the back of Ferris’s neck, shoulder, ear.
“Are you all right, bunny?”
“Mmm. You need another shower. And so do I.”
Max twined his fingers with Ferris’s. “Up.”
It took a little time, but soon Ferris was standing on wobbly legs, arms wrapped around Max’s slim waist.
Max stroked white hair back from his face. “I’m thankful for you this year, bunny. You are the light of my life.”
A grin split Ferris’s face. “I’m very thankful for you too, sir.” Before he could add an “I love you” Max’s mouth closed on his. Max was not yet comfortable with the words. He thought it too soon. But Ferris knew. This thing between them could be nothing other than love.