Free Dulce Et Decorum Est (Naughty or Nice) by J. L. Merrow

pressed more kisses to Matthew’s hand, his neck, then, daringly, to his lips. Matthew tasted of sweet sherry and cinnamon, and George felt like he would burst with the maelstrom of emotions that coursed through him as their bodies pressed together, arousal clearly evident on both sides. To be known—fully known—and not rejected was something for which he’d never dared hope.
    “I need—oh, God, George, I need you.” Matthew’s voice was hoarse, his breath tickling George’s ear as his words came between kisses.
    “Have you—I’ve never….” George struggled to form a sentence, his mind fogged with happiness.
    “It’s all right. I have. But we won’t do anything you don’t want to—”
    “Anything. Anything you want.”
    “Let me touch you.” Matthew ran his hand jerkily down George’s side, squeezing tightly when he reached George’s hips. Dimly, George understood what he was asking and allowed his hold on his friend to slacken, making space between them.
    When Matthew’s hand reached his groin, George gasped aloud. He felt like he was on fire, and Matthew’s touch on his most sensitive part only served to fan the flames. “Yes…,” he hissed.
    “Let me—” Matthew had already started to work on George’s trouser buttons, and his nimble fingers had them open in short order.
    George recollected himself enough to tear off his jacket and wrench his braces off his shoulders, allowing his trousers to fall to the floor.
    “Oh, yes,” Matthew breathed, his hand slipping into George’s underwear and closing around his heated erection. George bit back a moan. “Now you take my things off,” Matthew panted, moving his hand slowly up and down.
    Wondering how on earth he was supposed to have any coordination while Matthew was stroking him so deliciously, George fumbled at the fastenings of his friend’s clothes, succeeding in undoing them more by luck than judgment. Having finally bared Matthew’s chest, George bent to press frantic kisses to it, but the angle was awkward, so he finally settled for pressing their torsos together and nuzzling into Matthew’s neck. His hands carried on working at Matthew’s trousers and were shaking by the time they finally gained access.
    It didn’t seem to bother Matthew. He let out a hoarse groan as George finally grabbed hold of his cock, and his own hand sped up on George’s erection. “Lord, George….”
    George couldn’t wait any longer. With a cry, fortunately muffled by Matthew’s neck, he spilled himself over his friend’s hand, his whole body juddering with the ecstasy of it. Barely leaving time for his vision to clear, George dropped to his knees. He might not have had any experience of it, but he’d heard the other boys talking at school, and he had a fair idea what to do. Still reeling from his climax, George plunged his mouth over Matthew’s cock.
    Matthew arched convulsively, and George was forced to grab his hips with both hands to hold him still. The hard flesh in George’s mouth felt strange, too large, but the taste was salty and musky, and the thrill of it coursed through his veins. As he moved his head up and down, he chanced looking up—and was mesmerized by the sight of Matthew with his eyes screwed up as if in pain, and his hand stuffed into his mouth to muffle his cries.
    Then Matthew looked down—and as their eyes met, George felt the flesh between his lips pulse, and suddenly his mouth was filled with jet after jet of viscous, salty liquid. For a moment George thought he would gag—but really, it was no worse than swallowing oysters, and George felt absurdly pleased with himself as he saw Matthew looking at him with awe.
    “George….” Matthew reached down to urge him up. As George stood, Matthew pressed their bodies together and kissed him fiercely. The thought of him tasting his own seed in their kiss made George shiver. “That was wonderful, George. You’re wonderful.”
    “No, you were,” George said,