Free The Pillar by Kim Fielding Page B

that tonight he woke up in someone’s arms, with a large, warm body wrapped protectively around him like the shell of a snail. Each time he awoke, Boro would stir and mumble something incoherent. Sometimes he snuffled at Faris’s neck. It was nice. It made Faris feel pampered, maybe even a bit spoiled.
    But when dawn broke and Faris woke again, Boro was lying on his stomach, one arm flung over his head and the other tucked under his body. The blankets had been scrunched down a little already, making Faris shiver, yet he slowly drew them back even farther so as to reveal more of Boro’s body. Enough daylight stole in through the shutters’ cracks and gaps for Faris to get a good look at him, and for the first time, Faris truly gazed on Boro with the eyes of a lover rather than those of a healer.
    The stripes on the pale skin were still red and vivid. A few were scabbed. Here and there, a small spot of mottled yellowish green revealed a lingering bruise. Faris turned his head this way and that, studying the marks as if they were a map of some distant land—a land he had visited in his dreams. He’d always been ashamed of his scars. They were like brands, visible and tangible reminders of what he was. But as he gazed at Boro, he realized that scars might also be badges of honor. Scars might say to the world, Look what was done to me. And yet I am strong—I survived.
    Faris didn’t yet feel that strength within himself, but someday he might.
    “You can touch too.” Boro’s voice was thick with sleep yet tinged with amusement.
    “We didn’t clean up last night. We’re a mess.”
    Boro rolled over, revealing a wide smile and an impressive erection. “If I tell you I’m weak and sore, will you bathe me?”
    Faris frowned. “ Are you sore?”
    “No. But you can still bathe me.”
    Giving in to temptation, Faris soothed a palm over the point of Boro’s hip. “I know a place high in the hills, far from any villages, where a stream widens out to form a sort of pool. It’s nice on a hot day. Next summer, we can—” He stopped so suddenly he almost bit his tongue. Boro would likely be long gone by summer. “I’ll go warm some water.”
    He stood, but Boro grabbed his arm to keep him from going. “The bath can wait. I was only joking.”
    “Wait for what?”
    Boro gave his own groin a significant look, then looked back at Faris, eyebrow cocked suggestively. “For that?”
    Faris’s previous lovers had never been playful. He found himself grinning and climbing back onto the mattress. On a whim, he straddled Boro’s body and sucked at one tempting nipple, making Boro gasp and arch his back. “Or that,” Boro said. “I can wait for that too.”
    Who knew you could laugh and be incredibly aroused at the same time? After a while, Faris turned his attention to the other nipple. He liked the taste of Boro’s skin: salt, plus a hint of olive oil and lavender from the soap. He liked pressing his ear to Boro’s chest and listening to his heartbeat. He liked slowly moving his head down Boro’s torso, allowing his overlong curls to brush against Boro’s belly, learning that his lover was delightfully ticklish. But even more, he liked licking the damp head of Boro’s cock before allowing the rigid flesh to slip between his lips.
    Boro was generously endowed. Faris couldn’t take him all in, but he wrapped his hand around the base and managed the rest in his mouth. Within a very short time, Boro was tugging gently at Faris’s hair and bucking up slightly with his hips. The smell of him was intoxicating, especially since part of that scent was Faris’s own spend from the night before.
    “F-Far— Oh, God! I’m not going to…. G-God!”
    Faris looked up and watched Boro toss his head from side to side on the pillow. Boro’s eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open, his chest heaving with jagged breaths. He was beautiful. Although Faris’s own cock remained untouched, he wondered if he could climax from