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David's Birthday
By Nix Winter |
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"Cream colored ponies and crisp apple
strudel, these area few of my favorite things," Brad's voice, a
deep tenor, reverberated through his office. No one was home.
David was due to return from a mission, but not for another three
hours.
In Brad's life before David there had not been time nor the mental
energy for such things as singing. Being a good guy was slightly
boring though and it left plenty of time for hobbies, so the
Oracle had adopted several; the most important to him being
finding out all the cogs and belts in David Maxwell's psyche.
Singing was just something that he did when no one would ever
catch him and he wasn't able to pry into David's mind and past.
His voice echoed through the main living area as he crossed to the
kitchen. Happy songs, that's all he would sing today. He didn't
believe in Farnid's new found religion, but he did know that
ghosts and demons occasionally lurked around David and that if his
singing didn't scare them away, maybe the happy lyrics would. He
didn't want any of them here today, only happy things.
Wearing only a pair of gray slacks and a light blue shirt, he
opened the oven. Sweet strawberry cake scent filled the room, and
for a moment, an irrational concern that the sweet smell of it
would some how corrode the weights or his punching bag. He shook
his head, shaking off the odd thought. He also closed the oven
door, gently so as not to make the cake 'fall'.
It would have been more in character to order the cake, but Brad
was afraid that someone would find out if he did. So he'd baked
his first cake, made the frosting and spent nearly four hours
learning to make roses. It was easy enough to predict when the
rose was going go lopsided, but difficult to understand exactly
how not to cause such unnatural blossoms.
Cakes were easier to predict than David, however and his lover's
reaction to what he had planned for the day was still unknown to
Brad. This was one of the things that both terrified him and
enticed him about younger man. And so he finished the cake, sang
away the demons from the house, and waited.
When David came through the door, a full ten minutes later than
he'd said he would, Carson was waiting for him, black hair in
perfect place, black tux in tailored perfection. The red rose he
held in his hands was a bud only, and of the deepest red.
David stopped, dropped the duffle bag he'd had on his shoulder,
tilted his head just slightly, his eyebrows drawing over violet
eyes. "Brad?"
Brad took one step forward and caught David's hand, ignoring the
gun powder and the slight remnant of blasting gel as well, as he
brought his lover's palm to his lips. "Welcome home."
"Miss me?" David asked, slightly confused, feeling wickedly
underdressed in military issue pants and tee-shirt, dirt sticking
to his skin by the sweat he hadn't gotten the time to shower off
yet.
"You never left me, so I didn't miss you," Brad said, then worried
that it might have been the wrong thing to say, but it was his
truth, so he didn't take it back. "I have found something you were
looking for."
"That so?" David asked, kicking his duffle bag in and shutting the
door with his foot.
"Happy Birthday." Brad held the rose out to him and David frozen,
fingers touching the petals.
If anyone else had said that to him, he would have fined them in
teeth. Brad said it though. That made it true. "Happy Birthday."
"You're twenty-on."
"Twenty-one?"
Brad nodded. "A more beautiful twenty-one I have never seen. The
cake is strawberry, with milk chocolate frosting. I managed
several decent roses, but acceptable penmanship seemed beyond me.
I hope it's acceptable."
David stepped around him, taking the rose with him. There on the
counter was the cake, and David smiled, knowing that Brad knew it
was half a centimeter higher on one end then the other. His smile
twitched, higher on one side then the other, and when he turned,
his tongue was pressed to to his upper lip, inadvertently licking
away soot. "It's mine? I can do anything I want with it."
Brad motioned with his both hands, palms up, moving one from the
other as he nodded. "It is yours. I considered getting you twenty
others, but I think I shall order them, one a week."
"Naw, I don't want them. This is the one I want." David said,
turning back to his cake, no candles, just chocolate roses and
more or less smooth surfaces. He licked his pointer finger clean
then drew his finger through the frosting. 'David loves Brad.
Happy Birthday."
Without a word, Brad turned David towards him and kissed him,
before he could lick that frosting away, cleaning his lover's lips
with his own, cleaning a mouth that hadn't seen a toothbrush in a
week. David melted easily into the kiss, his solider persona
melting like sugar in the water of Brad's kiss.
After the kiss, Brad guided David's frosting slicked finger to his
own mouth, watching David's eyes as he sucked his finger, swirling
his tongue around it, cleaning away the sweet chocolate. "In our
room, on the bed. Go. Dress."
"Yeah. Okay." David said. "Is it another surprise?"
Brad smiled, pushed his glasses back up his nose and moved towards
the kitchen. David watched him for another moment before heading
towards their bedroom.
The outfit laid out for him far out paced the surprise of his
birthday. Brad had done his research, but David couldn't find it
in himself to be angry. There were no secrets between them, though
this was more than David knew Brad knew. It was exactly the dress
he'd been looking at on line. Long, white satin, like something
from an ancient black and white vid. There were matching shoes,
with little white feather fluffies on the front, and a black
velvet box which he picked up. Inside were diamond dangle
earrings, clips.
The bathroom was lit by several tall white candles and a bath draw
with white rose petals floating in the water. David backed out of
the beautiful bathroom, out of the bed room, and stripped in the
hall way. He peeled off his tee-shirt, toed off hs boots and
dropped his pants right there, then kicked the lot of them to the
side. Leaving the pile of mission residue, he was loosening his
braid as he went back into the bathroom.
He really didn't know how Brad had known, or accepted. Death in a
white evening gown? It wasn't so bad, he supposed in the scope of
things, but he was smiling as he looked at the dress, his feet
sinking into the plush carpet. There were just some things that
one had to accept without too much thinking.
Quickly, he got himself into the tub, scrubbing away the dirt of
his mission, the sweat, the blood that wasn't his, wishing he
could scrub away the scrapes on his knuckles. Sometimes Brad
helped him with his hair, but not this time. This time, the
transformation was part of David's present.
It took time to dry all that mass of hair, even with the hair
dryer, but the time was welcome, really. Time to soak in how truly
he was known, time to fluctuate between anticipation and anxiety.
Brad liked him as a male, he didn't know what his lover was going
to think of him in a white satin evening gown.
Looking at himself in the mirror, pink nipples showing under a
curtain of dark brown hair, David almost couldn't bring himself to
look at his own face. Ugly words surfaced for him when he did.
Fag. Homo. Fruit. Pretty. He traced his fingers over his lips,
curvy female lips. From the counter, he picked up one of the
diamond combs and tucked it into his hair, bringing it away from
his face. Then the other side, so that they pulled a bit, but
didn't really tame his hair in the least. It hung all the way to
the back of his knees, and he ran his fingers through it, combing
away the slight damp that remained. It was his first possession,
his longest possession, and he wondered what the spirits of his
parents would think of a son about to slip into white satin, with
hair like a princess.
It was a connection he'd never make, between himself and his
parents. His birthday, it was some kind of link into himself and
it was Brad who'd given him that, Brad who received the lion's
share of his devotion and love. Quickly he moved one of the
smaller candles to the counter and with his fingers touching the
warm sides, he sent a prayer out to the spirits of his parents,
thanking them, apologizing for the things he couldn't give them.
"Thank you," he whispered, then blew out the candle, sealing the
prayer.
Tears n his eyes, he moved into the bedroom and stepped into his
new dress, the past all left behind now. It was just the present,
just this gift he'd been given. With excited and nervous fingers,
he drew the straps up over his shoulders, under his hair and
reached behind him to pull up the zipper. It was then that he
found Brad's hands there, searching in the water fall of chestnut
for the zipper. Silently, David leaned back against him, and let
him pull the zipper up.
Strong fingers, without judgment, without any great excitement
either though, Brad's fingers pulled up, closing the satin around
David's body. David stepped into the shoes and almost fell over as
he tried to balance on the high heels. Brad smiled and caught his
elbow, spinning him around, pulling him close, one arm behind his
back. "How do you feel?"
David blushed then, hiding his face against Brad's dress shirt.
"Uh.."
He couldn't see the smirk on Brad's face, but he maybe felt it in
the way his chest held for a moment before taking a deep breath.
"Let me put the earrings on?"
David stepped back, blush still up his cheeks, still brightening.
"Okay."
Of course, that only made it worse, as the silk did nothing to
hide his excitement. Brad didn't give any sign of noticing the odd
way the gown hung over David's body. Confident fingers closed one
diamond earring then the other on ears that were more used to a
com ear piece. The back of Brad's fingers brushed over David's
cheek, against the heat of his blush. "You are beautiful to me,
fatigues or satin. Come dance with me."
It wasn't an invitation and David closed his fingers around Brad's
as he let himself be lead into the main room. Soft music, a waltz,
and more candle light waited for them. Brad turned, lifting
David's hand as his other hand reached around and pulled him
close, hand in the small of his back. If David could have meeped,
he would have, but the music restarted, and Brad carried him into
the waltz, compensating for David's lack of balance on the heels,
guiding him around the room as if Brad had danced every night of
his life.
The next song was a little faster and David had his balance now.
They moved over the polished wood floor with a precision that was
more of warriors than romantic dancers, but it was their
precision. David's hand rested in Brad's, a light touch that only
floated above trying to take control the dance, even in this, this
lovely gift, the competition between them sparked like static,
sizzling, burning. Brad closed his hand around David's and dipped
him, taking his satin wrapped lover completely off balance, and
then kissing him. It was a kiss that ended the dance, Brad's arms
went around David's waist as he pulled him back into a standing
position. "You have a problem," he teased in David's diamond
studded ear, even as he rubbed his thigh against the tent of white
satin.
"I can't help it. You make me hard." David said, then forced down
the giggle that would have come after. "I don't sound like a
lady."
"You don't look like one either," Brad snarled, kisses going down
David's throat. "Sit down on the bench, hold onto the bar."
David moaned as he straddled the weight lifting bench and reached
behind him to take hold of the bar in the rack. Brad watched him,
watched him balance on those white feathery heels and the satin
grow tight over his spread legs. David watched Brad just the same,
in his perfectly fitting tux, the way the fine cloth lay over the
curve of his ass, and almost hid the bulge at the front of his
pants. Cream colored cummerbund, and ivory shirt with pearl
buttons, did nothing to cover the power in Brad, the taunt muscles
under the fancy, the tension in his stance. It was a new kind of
sparring between them, this dancing.
David shifted, hands on the bar, wanting Brad's hands on him, but
obediently waiting. He scooted back, forward, feet turning and
repositioning in the heels, feeling the satin brush over his legs,
cool on his skin where Brad watching him burned like fiery satin.
"Brad?"
"Shhh," Brad said as he moved so he was standing right in front of
David. With his little finger, he lifted the satin, pulling it up
one leg, making ever hair on David's body stand on end. "I forgot
to give you the thong."
"Uhh.. I'm uh, not wearing anything under the dress."
"I know. I've been dancing with you, David Maxwell."
With the little finger of his other hand he pulled the dress up on
the other side, until his fingers meet in the middle, caressing
David's tight balls and making him wiggle and moan. "Nahhhhh.
Brad," David groaned, asking in his voice, his tone.
"Want it sweet, want it rough?" Brad's middle finger slipped back,
between the curves of David's bottom. The insertion demanded,
forcing slowly as Brad's finger rotated, relentlessly opening
muscles that hadn't admitted any thing for too long. David gripped
the bar, leaning his head back against it as Brad's finger slipped
into him.
"Rough, sweet, yes, both," David said, bringing one high heeled
covered shoe up to place it gently on Brad's leg. The feeling of
Brad inside him, even just a finger, felt deeply intimate,
pinning, and his focus narrowed down to his cock and the
penetration farther back. He wanted desperately to stay in this
moment to reach towards the pleasure he knew they could get to,
even a bit of pain that held him in the moment was so very
welcome. Here with Brad, that was where he wanted to be. "No
escape."
"No escape," Brad agreed, his glasses just slightly down his nose.
He cupped David's ankle and lifted it to his shoulder. With
David's foot hooked to the back of neck, he rummaged in his pocket
for the small tube of lube he'd put there earlier. He didn't need
it, to say the words. He knew them to be true, knew that David
loved him and would submit to him in most things, but he wanted
David to enjoy, to be free of dark memories and he wanted him hot,
his cock weeping and his balls tight begging for the slightest
touch. Aggressive, intimidating, voice low, a second finger
slipping into his lover, he snarled, "You're mine, to do with as I
want and I want to fuck you. I want to fuck my little virgin
princess."
"Ahhhh," David said, about drooling, braid slipping off the back
of the bench he sat on, violet eyes wide. Brad smiled as a shiver
went through the barely covered shoulders of his lover. He could
feel the heat inside of him too, not that David wasn't always
warm, but excitement raised the whole body's temperature, the
temperature inside the anus was not excepted. "Virgin," was all
David could manage in response.
Brad withdrew his fingers suddenly, stood and opened his trousers,
watching David watch him as he coated his erection, uncut but
completely hard and thick now. Using the fingers warmed by David's
body, he spread the lube over, around the head, down the shaft.
Then David started licking at the edge of his mouth, making little
sucking motions, but not moving his hands from where he'd been
told to hold to. Brad still held David's ankle with his other
hand, the leg straight and pinned with his other hand to his
shoulder.
Smiling, Brad brushed the lubed erection against the leg, moving
downwards. As he went, the shoe feel off and David's bare foot now
hooked back around his neck. With both hands he lifted his
partner's hips with both hands, fingers holding firmly, roughly.
David thrashed just a little, trying to move forward faster,
testing Brad's grip on him. The slick on Brad's cock left a trail
down David's leg, right to below his balls, then down… as Brad
lifted him and David wiggled to get closer to the thick pink head
of Brad's manhood.
That ring of tight muscle was more ready for penetration when the
head touched down, making a soft sound as it slipped in the lube.
Relaxed, David wanted the thickness of Brad in him, wanted the
feeling of full penetration. Teeth showing in a snarl, Brad
pressed forward. The ring of David spread as he moved into him,
then closed tighter as soon as the head was passed. He thrust
then, hard and fast, refining his angle until he hit David's spot.
One hand under David's ass, he leaned forward, "Let go the bar,
lay back, hold to me," he commanded and David was only happy to do
so.
Fists gripping tuxedo, leg just about between them as Brad pressed
deeper, riding him. David got a leg around Brad's waist just about
the time that Brad hit the right angle and he cried out, head
pressed back against the vinyl of the bench, leg trying to push
Brad forward, right back against the same spot. "Master!"
Brad closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, back from the
sweat soaking his belly and the heat of his lover around him, but
only managed to shut David up with a savage kiss, grinding,
tongues washing each other. He wanted David to cum first, but
they'd never really played that way and he spilled into him, hot
on heat and he held there, deep inside as the little pulses of
pleasure rippled through him, pumping more deep into him. David
came almost immediately after, spilling himself between them,
sticking cream between white satin and tailored tuxedo. For a
moment they lay there, on the weight bench, but then Brad rolled
off to the side, taking David with him. Getting comfortable,
David's head on Brad's chest, Brad's arm around him, they lay
there, just happy with the world. "I'm glad you're alive, David
Maxwell."
"Brad. I love you," David replied, fingers trailing in the cream
he'd left on Brad's belly. "Is this a new tradition?"
With one finger, Brad pushed his glasses back up his nose. "I
don't want to wait that long. Perhaps we'll practice every other
day or so."
"Nympho."
"I, my dear sir," Brad teased, touching his thumb to David's nose,
"Am a satyr."
David laughed softly. It was a lovely birthday, a very lovely
first birthday. |
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