Rowan '04: Calma!

Lying along the length of Buck's long, strong body, he knew he'd finally found a place to be safe, loved. The big gunman's hands played gently with his body, touching with a delicacy and sureness that spoke his love without words. Ezra arched into the stroke that ran from his neck, down his spine and into the narrow crease between his cheeks. The fingers, slick with massage oil, slipped inside him easily, lifting up and closer by their very prodding. And then the pace quickened, the temper changed, became jagged, hard --- savage in possessiveness, enveloping him in a crest of need. Buck's need of him, totally, completely.

Ezra's shoulders sagged back away from Buck as his body was pressed upward and closer, hips nearly driven into the bigger man's abdomen as Buck seared hot, wet kisses across the under-chin part of Ezra's fine, soft, fragile neck.

Mouth swinging open in response to his head's tilt, Ezra felt his pulse throbbing just within the jacket of his skin, beating rhythmically and always faster, just there, at his exposed, offered throat. Saliva gathered and dribbled down his jaw, out of his slack, open mouth, tongue lolled back within as if trying to taste himself. The rough muscle of Buck's tongue lapped up the spill and then laved the parted lips, swiping teeth within, tracing deeper. With a fierceness that seemed alien, Wilmington's mouth closed hard over Ezra's slack one, teeth clicking and scraping as Buck twisted his head to better clamp down and swallow Ezra whole, suck the innards out of him. Devour him.

By now, Buck had surged his hips upward against Ezra's belly, the hard baton of his flesh pounding against Ezra, demanding yield where none could be tendered. Gasping for breath that would not come, Ezra lay pliant within his lover's onslaught. Thick, stiff fingers plunged up and inside him from beneath, pressing in, touching his core and reaping spasms of response. Ezra shook and jerked, moaned and clutched hard at Buck's biceps, fingers talon-like in their grips. His knees rose up the long, long flanks of the man, until he was riding those hands and holding himself against the trunk of the man, rocking in time with the erratic pressure of fingers jerking within him.

Then the storm passed, Buck's mouth closed, dragging Ezra's lips back together, a deep, heavy groan seeped from the man's soul and spoke more eloquently than any words. Ezra's eyelids, so weighted that they moved only with great effort, sluggishly raised over dazed, passion black eyes rimmed in emerald fire.

Wilmington kept lifting, pulling at Ezra, both hands still cupping buttocks spread so widely that Ezra felt as if he were splitting. Drawn up the larger man's body, skin dragged against flesh and hair, nipples and rippling ribs. Ezra felt raw, revealed, pierced even though Buck had not penetrated him with his shaft.

The deep breathing from Buck found echo in the smaller man whose thready sounds now edged on hoarseness. One long arm freed from below, wrapped tightly around Ezra's back and pulled him snug against Buck. Breath sawing now, Ezra gulped in air and lavished wet, biting kisses against the man's shoulder ridge. "My place-"

"Yes?" Buck's low, uneven utterance was pressed behind Ezra's ear, directly into his skull.

"-with you."

"That's right. Me, Ez, no one else. Never." Buck stood up abruptly, the smaller man held easily in his tight embrace, one hand still holding him up by his ass, middle finger deeply sunk in Ezra's center. He moved slowly around the room, as if pacing their shared space. Gradually, both men's breathing eased into a quiet susurration of breaths. Buck worked his finger deeper still, screwing it right, then left. Ezra sighed a soft contented mewl and Buck licked the man's nose and cheeks with just the tip of his tongue, dark blue eyes nearly crossing as he stared at his lover's relaxed face, love swollen and flush, near feverish with their rushed encounter.

end

*******

The music that inspired this: "Quest E Mia Tenda…Ti Calma!" from 'i Lombardi' by Verdi, was performed by Jose' Carreras on the CD, The World's Greatest Tenors (Delta Music, Inc. 1995).

…okay, so I am not the world's greatest translator…I don't even have all of that opera or lyrics! I 'think' it could be read "This is my tent --- be calm."

"Ti Calma" uses the intimate pronoun... The story takes place in Italy and in Palestine, during the Crusades, this selection is from Act IV, in Palestine. The piece is actually three voices, Carreras is only one, there is also a soprano and a bass.