Levels of Hunger

Levels of Hunger

By BA Tortuga

The sun had been down for a good while, the pink of the sky gone a still, heavy velvet, when Adriano went looking, bare feet making barely a sound on the wood plank floor. The sound of the ocean came to him through the French doors, soothing him like a lover’s touch, calming him just enough to give him patience when he found Lars exactly where he thought he might. In the tiny library, reading some dusty tome. A Torquere Press Sip - 1

Sighing, he bent, fingers trailing down Lars' cheek to tilt the sharp-jawed face up for a kiss, breaking the connection between man and words. Those eyes, as blue as the Mediterranean at noon, blinked at him, dark eyelashes tipped with the slightest hint of gold. "Adriano." "Good evening, love. I have waited too long for you to surface this evening, hmm?" He had to smile, the momentary confusion on Lars' face too amusing. "Ancient Hebrew. Quite fascinating really, when compared to middle English." The dull gold of his hair echoed the pages with their age. Stunning, his Lars. Truly stunning. Adriano watched his tanned hand, square thumb and long fingers, as it closed around Lars' lean, long throat, admiring the contrast before bending for another kiss. He opened Lars' mouth with his, tongue running along the lower lip, soft and wet. "I prefer other entertainments. Indulge me?" "In all things." Slowly that focus turned to him, heavy and intense, heady. "Excellent." He held out a hand, backing off to allow Lars to rise and follow him, the dust from the books making the air seem otherworldly, making his nose itch. Not in the library. Never there. That place, if nowhere else upon the Earth, was Lars' sanctuary, and Adriano would never violate that trust. They moved through the house, Lars' hand sitting firmly in his. Trusting. Understanding his need. They wandered more than walked up the winding stairs, the air seeming heavier as they moved deep inside their home, the need thick between them. At the top of the landing he turned left, not right toward their bedroom. What he longed for could not be found in their soft and luxurious bed. Not tonight. A Torquere Press Sip - 2

Still Lars followed, at his heels until they stopped in the darkened room at the end of the hall, and Adriano turned for another light touch of lips, to breathe in the sweetness of Lars' very breath. "Strip, lovely." The spare, compact body was bared to him, ivory washed in the barest of gold, his gilt one, kissed by the near-forgotten touch of sun. He kept his own clothes on, the thin linen pants only a tiny shield between them, but enough to keep him on his course. He had to touch, though, to feel that sweet, smooth skin beneath his fingers. "So beautiful." Lars shifted beneath his touch, drinking it in, soaking him in. So utterly responsive. Adriano guided Lars to the center of the room, walking around him and admiring the tall, lean form as he decided what he wanted, what he needed, what he craved. The only light came from the open door, but Lars glowed as if lit from within, making him hard, making fine tremors move his hands. "I read a story today about a man who so loved a woman that he turned his back on God, on man, on the world at her will, her word." Lars' voice ached with a quiet need, the proof of his desire evident. "And what happened to this man?" Candles, he decided, would be their illumination, and Adriano went to light them, listening for Lars' answer. "God was furious and smote him, offered him anguish and punished him with eternal hunger, yet he cared nothing for it, for she was with him." "Eternal hunger I can understand. It seems I have it for you." The candlelight illuminated the heavy wall hangings of silk and velvet, the scarlet cushions upon the slate floor, and made Lars' hair into spun gold. Adriano came back to his lover, reaching high above A Torquere Press Sip - 3

Lars' head, standing on his toes to do it, so much shorter was he, to grasp the cuffs he needed and pull them down. Lars worried altogether too much about the fury and attention of a dead god. "Tonight I believe we'll feed it." Lars' fingers slid around his waist, moving lightly, drawing promises in one language after another -Greek, Aramaic, Latin, French. "You make me ache." "And you make me burn." He took each hand, kissing the palms before fastening a cuff around each of Lars' lean wrists, pulling the straps taut to take them tight overhead, stretching that long body for him to worship. There was a scar, old and fine, traveling down the flat belly, ending in the mass of gold curls crowded about the full, curved cock. A single well-traveled highway in the map of a perfect body. Lars' eyes seemed bright in the candlelight, his expression distant, angelic, not yet marred by their need. He could not wait to see that landscape change under his hands. Adriano leaned to lick the tight muscles of one arm, to nuzzle one fine-skinned armpit, the scent of his most adored the most perfect drug. "Are you ready, love?" The skin beneath his lips goose pimpled, shivered, and Lars gasped. "Yes. Yes, Beloved." "Good." There would be little talk between them now, until they were done, and his need was slaked. His tools waited for him, in a carved mahogany box on a low Italian marble table in one corner, and Adriano chose carefully. They were experienced at this game, but he still took precautions. Lars was too precious to him. A sharp, bright sliver of a scalpel would do perfectly. Adriano cleaned it, polishing it slowly, breathing deeply to calm himself, to bank the burn in his belly before A Torquere Press Sip - 4

going back to Lars, letting his love see what he had chosen. As his breathing slowed, Lars' sped, a gentle flush climbing up the golden skin, as if his lover's life blood knew it would be called forth. He simply watched for a moment, letting the anticipation build, watching Lars' muscles begin to jump. How perfect they were, his own need matched by his lover's, mirrored by it. He would start just below the throat, at the right collarbone, a tiny cut that brought a thin, beaded line of bright red to the surface. The blood beaded, gathering into fat, pregnant beads that spilled, claret splashing on gold. Oh, he wanted it, desperately, but the pleasure would be far greater for the waiting. Better to watch the pattern it made as it slid down Lar's chest, tiny rivulets that separated and stained. Adriano considered his next spot just as carefully, holding the scalpel to Lars' skin and watching his lover's face. Those eyes stared at him, clinging like a drowning man to a life preserver. He could see the vein in Lars' throat throbbing, beating. It tempted him just as much as the darkening, drying blood, but Adriano waited on that particular pleasure as well. There were other places. Like the spot where Lars' waist curved just slightly into the hip, where the hipbone jutted out. Another cut there, precise, thin, and long, gave him a deep, rich trail down one leg. Next the curve of Lars' elbow, the heat of the dark blood slicking his fingers, painting the brightness of the blade. Unable to resist any longer, Adriano brought his fingers to his mouth, the earthy scent and sharp tang of the blood wringing a moan out of him. He leaned against Lars for a moment, admiring the sight of that A Torquere Press Sip - 5

long body painted with his work, feeling the blood from the last cut drip down on his cheek like a lover's caress. Lars gave a low sound, nearly a growl, tongue sliding out to slip over the full, parted lips. "Mmm." The low sounds mingled, his own falling over Lars'. The next cut he placed right next to the thin scar on Lars' belly, just to one side, watching, fascinated, as the skin split open so easily under his knife. The long cock throbbed, pulsed, the roots of the dull gold curls slowly going crimson, dark, wet. He wanted to touch. He wanted to drop to his knees and feel the stiff length with his cheek, feel the springy curls go soft and flat as they soaked through. Instead he knelt, running the very tip of the knife along the delicate skin behind Lars' knee. The long legs trembled, toes curling, Lars' head falling back, sacrificed to his hunger. The fingers of his free hand reached irresistibly for the cock just before his face, wrapping around it, spreading the slippery liquid along its length before it became sticky, thick. His other hand moved low, to the bony knob of one ankle, making his final cut there before leaning to lick flesh he held. Bliss. "Adriano..." The whisper seemed to echo, to reverberate through the room, aching, wanton, rich as the finest port. "Yes." A final touch of lips to Lars' cock, bitter with a hint of seed, salty with blood and his own sweat, and Adriano rose, placing the scalpel aside carefully before returning. One arm rose to wrap around Lars' neck, the other dropped so he could touch chest and belly and cock, tracing patterns, designs ancient and sacred, modern and profane.

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He rubbed against that long body, as if he could soak up the deep, red blood with his own skin, and brought Lars to him for a kiss. "Love." "My heart." Lars opened to him, lips sweeter than any wine, the wet slide becoming sticky, dragging their skin together. The friction heated them, made them gasp. His hands were back to shaking; while he cut they remained calm, but now he was at a loss to control them. Crimson and gold, his Lars, smooth and rough, making his own skin seem plain until it was fully against his lover's, painted with Lars' very life. Lars moaned, eyes closed, breath panting into his lips, lean muscles straining against the bonds that held tight. "Yes." He wanted more, wanted to hear and feel and see Lars react to his touch, wanted to finish their ritual. He wrapped his hand tight around Lars' cock, pulling tight, his own hardness prodding Lars' hip, sliding and moving, bringing more liquid life sliding against his shaft. The scent of them stunned him, every time, metalearth-animal jumbling together. He could feel the tremors, the vibration sliding up Lars body, the shaft in his hand burning and heavy as it wept for him, cried liquid tears of pure need. "Soon, love. Soon." It had to be soon. The cuffs were hard under his hand, his fingers, sticky-slick, fumbled with the clasps, trying to free Lars while they rocked together. "I need..." The words were raw, scraping against his nerves like broken glass. They both needed, and Adriano tore his fingers ripping the cuffs away. He managed though, and he let Lars down from his bondage, his other hand catching the weight of Lars' cock, steady and sure. "Whatever you need, love. Now." A Torquere Press Sip - 7

"Now. Beloved." No longer sweet or light, his Lars’ voice was a snarl now, the desperate growl of a starving animal. Once that had frightened him, no more. A hard, clawed hand gripped his head, tilting him back, mouth a brand against his skin. He felt Lars' breath, a gust of air that screamed of butchery and desire, the hint of fetid death too close to the surface for comfort. Still, it was familiar now, and Adriano arched, offered himself to the beast full-heartedly. Sharp, deep pain, brighter than any silver scalpel, ripped through him, rising in him with the undeniable need, the exquisite throbbing draw of Lars' lips and teeth pulling at him. Adriano's cock ached, twitched, the swollen tip battered against Lars' body. He drowned beneath the waves of Lars' need, the draw of that mouth, the undeniable hunger that he fed. On and on, his hand moved in time with each deep pull, stroking Lars as everything in him was pulled out, exposed, opened, just as he'd opened Lars' skin; it poured out of him. His heart beat faster, the candlelight growing, then shrinking to tiny pinpoints of light that swirled in a maddening dance. His balls drew tight, his knees buckling as his cock begged for more. His beloved Lars answered that need, though, fingers slapping his shaft with a sharp, breathtaking blow. His climax took him, and it made his eyes roll back in his head, sounded like nothing more than white noise in his ears, his legs going out from under him. Lars' hands were warm on his, lean muscles supporting his with the strength of pure will -- a will that defied time, age, God himself. His beautiful Lars. Adriano ached. "Please." "All I am is yours." The whisper filled him, soaked into him, a balm.

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As much as he belonged to Lars. He offered everything, his hands, his throat, his entire self. How could he give less than Lars gave him? Soft laps cleaned the stains from his skin, the seed, Lars lowering him to the ground. He rested on the floor, feeling the cool slate under his back, hands at his side, watching. Whatever Lars needed, wanted. Adriano let his legs fall open, let his hips rise, inviting. Those eyes shone, glowing, face animalistic and fierce, mouth red, wet, open as a wound. Lars' cock slid against his thigh, slick and hot, a promise. Opening, Adriano pulled his thighs apart, holding his legs wide, head falling back to rest against the floor, baring the wound that still bled lightly. "Yes, love. Now." Lars nodded, licking the air like a dog for half a moment before the animal need, the demon of eternity backed away a bit, leaving Lars with those happy, wanton eyes he'd fallen in love with, smiling down on him. “Now.” He felt the wet kiss of that needy prick, the promise and threat of possession that made this act so much a temptation. Then Lars pressed forward and a pressure filled him, spread his hole. Adriano made himself relax that tiny ring of muscle, taking his love deep within. Lars seated himself fully, hands landing on either side of Adriano's head, the heat of Lars' lips against his throat balancing the chill of the stone against his back. Yes. He needed this as much as he needed the other games they played, as much as the cutting and the bleeding and the feeding. Perhaps more. Lars' thighs were strong between his, long muscles hard as marble, balls soft and velvety against his own. Soft words slid against his skin, Lars' lips moving, singing in a language as old as memory -- promises, hymns, prayers, invocations. Answering with his hands A Torquere Press Sip - 9

and legs and body, Adriano gave Lars his promises, his darkest needs and deepest desires. His body pulled Lars in, begged for more, asked for everything. The skin on his backside felt raw, his shoulder blades ached, and he dug his nails into Lars' shoulders, feeling the sting go from him, to Lars, and back again. In this, they were connected, Lars' focus complete, the very blood flowing through the beating heart shared between them. Lars took; he gave. Lars gave, and he took. His cock was hard again, pressed between them, making him gasp with pain as the sensitive skin rubbed the blood from Lars' belly, making him moan with pleasure as Lars filled him over and over. "I would defy God for this, for you." The words were moaned into his ear, almost a sob. "You already have. I am yours." It was true. He faith was gone. He belonged with Lars. He belonged to Lars. "Yes. My soul, my life." Lars arched, cock driving deep, slamming against that tiny spot within him that made him believe in all the promises of Heaven, of eternity. “There!” His breath left him in a rush, his will dissolving in the race for pleasure. “Yes.” Lars snapped the word out, moaning, wild eyes burning into him, making promises that lasted eons. "Lars!" He was going to come again. He had to. Everything. Lars asked him for everything, called for his acquiescence with that look, demanded it and his body answered instinctively. Moaning, wailing, Adriano shot between their bodies, the ropes of pearly, burning fluid wetting the dried blood, smearing hot and vital on their skin. His body clamped tight around Lars, holding him in. Life poured into him, undeniable, the look on his lover's face feral, lost in a sea of sensation. Everything A Torquere Press Sip - 10

else grayed out around the edges, the only real, solid thing Lars' otherworldly face, Lars' straining muscles as his demonic beloved gasped for breath. Weak as a kitten, yet oddly energized, that was how he felt, and he let his arms flop to the floor, toes sliding down the smooth skin of Lars' calves. The room was pitch dark except for the flickering, fading candles, Lars' fingers trailing over his throat, teasing, taunting him with the question whether this night would be the one Lars would choose to bind them, entwine them. Take the soul he'd offered so often, so willingly. The breath caught in his chest, everything in him stilling, waiting as he always did for Lars' next move. Lars indulged him, but Adriano knew it was an illusion. He was Lars' heart and soul. Owned. "You would give the sun up for me." It was not a question. "I would give up anything but you." His reply was just as firm, definite. "I will indulge you until time stops." They shared one last long look, Lars' face losing any trace of humanity as those beloved eyes held him, offered him the universe, and Adriano nodded, tilting his head back, offering. He could only imagine what indulgences they might find together in the future. He couldn't wait. end

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Levels of Hunger Copyright © 2011 by BA Tortuga All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / October 2011 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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