THE BLINDFOLD IS a long strip of black silk, knotted tight behind Arthur’s head. He can’t see anything, and it leaves him acutely aware of every sound: the soft scratch of Kit’s fingers trailing along the fabric, the release of his breath as he reaches around Arthur, the drag of his arm on Arthur’s sleeve. He unbuttons his shirt, inch by inch. His breath is hot on Arthur’s neck.
“You have goose bumps,” Kit whispers. He runs a finger along the line of Arthur’s throat. Arthur swallows, and it seems loud in his head.
“Hm, it’s your breath.”
“So bad it makes you shiver?”
“It’s warm.”
Kit breathes against his skin. “I see,” he says, and Arthur shakes. Kit pulls apart the lapels of his shirt and slides it from his shoulders and down his arms. It gets caught at his wrists, and he giggles before unbuttoning the cuffs. “Like that Brad Pitt movie where he plays Death.”
“Meet Joe Black.”
“Right. You’re a lot more attractive than Death.”
“More attractive than Brad Pitt?”
“By far.” He reaches back around him and digs his fingers through Arthur’s chest hair. “For more reasons than one.”
“Hmm.”
Kit’s hands drift down, sliding over his heated skin. Arthur feels like each touch is amplified by his blindness. Kit’s hands send shock waves coursing through him. He lets his chest rumble with the pleasure of it, and Kit rewards him by unzipping his fly. “Now,” Kit says, “you’ve seen me strung up and fucked raw, put on display—”
“Yes.”
“I know, you like it. But tonight—tonight I get to see you.” He’s smiling. Arthur can’t see it, but it’s clear in his voice.
Arthur hears the soft swish of Kit pulling his own shirt over his head; then he is overwhelmed by the press of his chest against his back. His lips return to Arthur’s neck, and he mouths against him as if he’s trying to devour. Arthur tilts his head to offer more real estate, and Kit hums in approval. The noise rumbles through Arthur’s chest and warms him. He presses his shoulder blades into Kit’s chest.
Kit’s hands stroke down each side of his chest, and he trails his fingers around Arthur’s waistband. “Yes,” Arthur whispers, encouraging the exploration.
Kit’s lips find the top of his shoulder and he nips at the ridge of bone, eliciting a quick little hiss. His fingers are nimble. He unbuttons with purpose, and every movement sends waves of sensation through Arthur’s nervous system. Kit’s breath speeds as he reveals more and more skin. He thinks if he tried hard enough, he could hear his pulse.
Arthur rolls his shoulders forward so Kit’s chest is pressed flat against him. His pulse is quick. His body is warm. Arthur’s trousers slide to the floor, and his boxers follow.
Kit is dressed on the bottom, and the texture of denim leaves Arthur breathless. Something about being exposed like this, without being able to see and knowing Kit is still covered, at least somewhat, electrifies him.
“Mmm,” Kit murmurs, “you like this. You like putting yourself in my hands.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Walk forward for me. Wait—first—” He kisses him. Arthur loses himself in the slide of lips and tongue. He lets Kit control it; he nibbles Arthur’s lip and sucks it into his mouth before delving back in with a lick and a slow, tender slide. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Arthur’s mouth and moves himself back behind him. “Now, a step forward. Feel the bed? Right there.” He places a firm hand on Arthur’s back and pushes. “Get on your hands and knees.”
Kit’s duvet is soft cotton. His bed is firm beneath Arthur’s knees, and he barely sinks in.
“Perfect,” Kit praises him, sliding his hand down Arthur’s flank. He caresses his thigh with his other hand, and Arthur can’t know where he looks or what he sees. He shivers, and Kit kisses the right side of the dip of his lower back.
“God,” Arthur whispers. Kit slides in behind him. His denim-clad legs tickle the inside of Arthur’s spread thighs. Kit leans down so his chest caresses Arthur’s back, and he strokes up his legs with his fingertips. “Touch me. Please.”
“Of course.” Kit’s hands leisurely make their way to his cock. One grips his length, and the other, below. He moves achingly slowly, in tandem with the kisses he presses down Arthur’s back.
When his mouth reaches the base of Arthur’s spine, he releases his cock and brings them back. “Oh God,” Arthur whispers. “Christopher, fuck.” His breath is hot on his skin, and his fingers are tight where they find position on each side of his ass. “Oh, fuck…”
Kit spreads him apart.
His breath is on Arthur’s skin again. It moves down and up, as if he’s inspecting him close. “What are you—”
“Shh. Easy, my love.”
Arthur’s whole body shakes.
“Oh. Oops.”
“Chri—” Kit’s tongue licks a stripe up his ass. He hums in approval and licks at his rim. “Fuck, Christ!”
Kit’s laugh is husky and low. “You’ve been neglected.” He licks him again and flutters his tongue. “Mmm, you should see how gorgeous this looks.” He does wicked things, and Arthur’s body quakes. “You’re so perfectly pink.” He holds him apart with one hand and gently prods him with the other. “I wonder…” He rubs a finger—his thumb?—against the furl of muscle, and Arthur moans. “So responsive for me. Good.” Arthur’s legs feel weak. His cock throbs.
Kit’s tongue returns, firmer and sure. He laps at Arthur until he relaxes beneath him, then prods with his tongue until Arthur gasps and his body lets him in. Sweat dampens the edges of the blindfold. Kit makes filthy noises as he fucks him with his tongue.
“Christopher…” Arthur whispers, like a prayer.
Kit pulls back, panting. “Okay. Okay.” Arthur hears the rasp of a zipper and shuffling, and Kit finishes undressing. He knows his body so well he pictures him—flushed rosy and eager. He hears the plastic click of a bottle, then feels the cool drizzle of lube against his skin. He sucks in a breath, and Kit chuckles. He rubs it around Arthur’s rim, and Arthur groans as he pushes in.
Kit starts with his hand, a finger, then two. He works him open gently, patiently, until Arthur is close to tears.
“More,” he growls. “I need more.”
Kit’s hands leave him, and Arthur waits. Seconds pass, and he feels like he’s falling apart. “Ready?” Kit asks.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Kit presses his cock head into Arthur’s body. They both make a sound like a gasp and a grunt. Arthur is overcome with the intrusion and stretch. His fingers tingle. He curls his toes. His chest feels tight and absent of air. He sucks in a breath, and Kit pushes forward. He rocks forward and back, and Arthur accommodates him. Each motion of Kit’s cock sends a wave running through him, until every inch of his skin feels alive.
As he opens to Kit’s cock, his body relaxes into the pleasure. His testes tighten, and the sensation radiates through him until he feels set aflame. Kit works him open until he’s completely in, and he stops, hips flush against Arthur’s rear. He runs his hands up and down Arthur’s back, then grips his hips and squeezes. Arthur can only release a small moan. He’s weak, like Kit has fractured his surface and he’s waiting to be split apart—it’s the build of a wave before it crests, more and more, and he needs it to go. “Christopher?”
“Just a second—I just need a second.” His breath is labored. “You feel—fuck, Arthur, you feel so incredible, and I want—”
“Maybe this first time, we’ll—”
Kit pulls back and thrusts. They both groan, and their voices are guttural and raw. “It’s so intense.” He thrusts again, and Arthur hears him suck in a breath. “I’ve never had…hnnn…it be like this…” His breath comes hard with every thrust.
Arthur arches his back to meet him, curving his spine so he’s lined up smooth. He feels Kit deep, and it’s a slick glide of fullness with every move. He bends his elbows, shifting the angle further, and Kit’s cock hits a sweet spot that makes him keen.
They don’t last long this time. Neither of them lasts long. Kit lets go of his control and fucks him, hips stuttering until he comes apart. His unrehearsed, broken words send Arthur after him, careering over the edge with a violent cry.
As soon as they stop throbbing together, Kit pulls off the blindfold. He stares at Arthur and kisses his mouth. He lies back on the bedding and pulls Arthur after him, watching him and stroking his hair. He nestles Arthur’s head onto his chest and holds him there, and they ride through the afterglow together.
The warmth grows, this time, from Arthur’s chest. He looks up at Kit and feels it tighten. He’s okay. We’re okay. For now.
They watch each other in silence until they both fall asleep.