Free The Pillar by Kim Fielding Page A

so tender there, so vulnerable—such a contrast to the wide shoulders and broad back. Boro made soft noises, and this time he didn’t go tense when Faris ventured a finger against the even more sensitive skin behind his balls.
    “Faris,” Boro rasped. “That’s— Oh.” He gasped when the slick digit slipped inside him.
    “It hurts?” Faris asked him with concern.
    “Good God, no.”
    Faris spent a few minutes gently moving his finger, feeling the muscles gradually loosen. He moved slightly away to apply more oil to his fingers, smiling at Boro’s grumbled complaint. Boro took two fingers easily. But when Faris crooked those fingers just so , Boro jerked and cried out.
    Faris froze. “It hurts?” he asked again.
    “Don’t… don’t stop. What did you— More of that!”
    Although he grinned at Boro’s incoherent demands and desperate squirming, Faris couldn’t help but worry a little. Whoever had fucked Boro in the past, the man—or men—certainly hadn’t seemed to care about Boro’s pleasure. Even the casual partners Faris had coupled with in Tuchenik had made at least some effort to ensure the enjoyment was mutual, whether they were on the giving or receiving end.
    Now wasn’t the time for pondering, however. Boro was breathing harshly and writhing against Faris’s fingers, and Faris was fairly positive that if he didn’t sink into that hot, grasping channel very soon his head was going to explode—and there was no herbal remedy for that. So he withdrew his fingers from Boro, this time eliciting an even louder protest. He slicked some oil over his iron-hard cock. And then, more slowly than either of them would have liked, he pressed the head of his cock deep inside.
    “Holy mother of God,” Boro whispered. And then he repeated it even more hoarsely: “Holy mother of God.”
    Faris couldn’t speak at all. In fact, he almost forgot how to breathe. He’d been inside men before—not often, but a few times—but never had it felt so good. Never before had he wanted to draw things out, to taste salty skin and suck lightly on an earlobe, to press his lips against a pounding pulse.
    “I’m going to move,” he warned Boro.
    “Yes. M-move. God, please move.”
    Faris did. The angle was a little awkward in this position, but he didn’t care. He just tried to keep his movements steady, tried to keep from biting through his lip. He mustered enough coordination to reach around and grasp Boro’s damp cock, and that really was it for both of them: Boro let out a steady stream of expletives and groans as he rocked his hips back and forth. Faris matched his rhythm and muffled his own cries against Boro’s shoulder.
    Boro came first. He shuddered, he made Faris’s hand slick with his hot semen, and his inner muscles clenched almost hard enough to hurt. He was still whimpering with the aftershocks when Faris fell apart, like a stone falling off a cliff and shattering to dust, and every particle of that dust reveling in its freedom.
    They separated quite slowly and rearranged themselves. Somehow they ended up with Faris half-draped over Boro’s larger frame and cradled in one of Boro’s arms. They fit together as naturally as if they’d been sleeping together for years.
    “Your shoulder is going to be sore,” Faris pointed out through a yawn.
    “I don’t care. I am incapable of feeling anything but good right now.” Boro kissed the top of Faris’s head, then rumpled his curls. “I wish I could tell you how much…. Well, that was very good. You were very good. Thank you.”
    Faris chuckled. “It wasn’t exactly a selfless act.”
    “I didn’t think it would feel so… I need to rest. But in the morning, you won’t have changed your mind, will you? You won’t want me gone?”
    “I won’t,” Faris said. No lie.

Chapter Five
     
    F ARIS WOKE   up several times during the night. That was normal; he’d never quite outgrown his boyhood habit of light sleeping. What was unusual, however, was