[Adult] Kinship

[Jesús de Torres y Pineda]

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Jesús breathed slowly, a flare of his nostrils expressed if only because he could not help himself. The idea that his daughter needed a woman was… well, not infuriating per-sey because it was the truth even if he sought to overlook it. No, what was annoying was the fact that he had to find someone, or to open himself up fully to the possibility at all, and though it could have been seen as a point of self-sabotage, Jesús knew that his criteria for such a woman would be highly strung: someone of good standing who was not afraid to reflect on their intelligence, or who could aid Farah’s own transition into the world — let alone that such a woman would have to be close to both father and daughter in turn. The idea of it all but exhausted him, especially since as of late his own work had been wrapped up in the need of a proposal that could further his ambition concerning Tarraco.

When had he had time to think of a woman, or lover at large, when all that remained was the work at hand? Only recently he had been given word that his people (a selection of loyal students who were to work on the field in exchange for Jesús well written referrals) had unearthed a great treasure of seemingly personal Roman belongings, and had as such yearned to return to see it all for himself. All that had been trusted to the post was an ivory cut ring inscribed in barely legible Latin. Whatever else there was would remain a mystery till he got there… So what time was there, to evoke fantasies of love, family and kinship?

There were only a handful of persons who were allowed the largeness of his dark eyes, an offering of innocent adoration masked by something more deeply set. Like a child, or like the boy he had known, Jesús looked at Rafael as he always had done, more like a dog searching for the kind hand of a favourite friend he went to knead his hand over the other’s shoulder, finding that tangled chord of what could bring certain distraction and absolution in the roll of his thumb. He did not use Rafael for the measure of his prick, though as a growing lad he had once thought himself so sinfully cruel to do so, it was more a display of how he cared for Rafael de la Cruz over any other as he allowed Rafael to grow so close in order to swing one thigh across him so he could sit plainly over his lap in one display of grace.

His laugh was gentle and almost muffled between his lips as the other went to cup his face, to lull him into that sticky move of certain kisses — his beard having grown peppered with grey hairs, bristling against the thespian’s face even if he tried to avoid the act — his mind then devoured whole by the warmth of Rafael’s body against his, as he moved himself from his thumb in order to kiss him again, to coax him down closer till they were but flush against one another, a large hand then moved to wrap without apology around the writer’s thigh, moving his palm up, up, up till he could grapple with the weight of de la Cruz as he had done when they had been sodden with wine beneath the Catalonian sun, when they had easily turned to one another with such a thrill that neither could’ve expected what was to happen afterward.

“You are a good friend,” he whispered, the wine still heavy against his lips, the taste of such alcohol lingering on his breath as he felt for his friend’s cock, his own mercilessly twitching beneath Rafael in reaction to his own gentle hips. It had been some time, if one was to ignore the mindless fucks he had spent on women he should’ve ignored, but everything seemed new and tender when in the presence of someone he so adored. “Won’t you put your mouth to use, mmm? Like last time…” Jesús hinted, his eyes heavy with the expectation and dream of what had come before.

[Rafael de la Cruz]

This languid relaxation was exactly what Rafael had hoped for. The warmth of Jesús under him, the wine-sweet kisses they traded, and – with a quiet sigh of pleasure that verged on becoming a true moan – the firm hand that found its way to his cock, cruelly trapped behind layers of fabric. Even with the wine in him, as ever, Jesús' touch was enough to stir him to full hardness in no time at all. Their shared affection, their shared history, had forged a unique and wonderful bond between them. There were plenty of romantic notions to assign to it, if Rafael had been of a mind to do so, but right now his mind was rather more occupied by the man between his thighs.

It did not surprise Rafael to hear such a request; he laughed, low and liquid, stealing another hungry, sloppy kiss before he could even dream of replying at all. Reluctantly, he abandoned those sweet lips; pulled his tongue from Jesús' mouth with a final lick of his lips. "Anything to please you, Sir," he confirmed with a tease, lifting himself only to put himself upon his knees: Praying at the altar of this man whom he loved so dearly, and the heavy cock he knew to be hidden in Jesús' trousers.

Even tipsy from wine, his fingers unerringly worked at the buttons of the other man's trousers. Not a single extra button was undone; as soon as he could slip the trousers down Jesús' legs, well out of the way, he did so. Jesús' heavy erection was quickly taken in one of Rafael's soft hands, and another happy sigh accompanied the sight of it.

Rafael burrowed his face into Jesús' groin even as his hand gently stroked the other man's length. The mixture of musk, body odor, and the unmistakable smell of cock was a heady mix, and one he thoroughly enjoyed. Rather than hurry to take Jesús' cock in his mouth, Rafael first busied himself with the professor's heavy balls, sucking gently at one, and then the other, before finally pulling his head up again to stare reverentially up at the other man. Not daring to steal his gaze away, he pressed a kiss to the head of Jesús' prick, before opening his mouth widely to take it into his mouth.

It would be a steady process, to take most of it into his mouth, but Rafael had plenty of practice. From this position he would likely not be able to swallow the length of it, but if that was what Jesús desired, it was what Jesús would receive. They knew each other well; had known each other's bodies in this manner for years. Rafael had nothing but complete trust for his most beloved friend, and there was nothing in this world that he would deny Jesús, should he ask – or merely take.

[Jesús de Torres y Pineda]

Jesús could happily play the role Rafael needed, forged by their shared youth and affection it was easy to become something that he otherwise would have overlooked. It was strange, perhaps, to allow the other to tend to his arousal in that moment or at any time at all, if only because Jesús normally claimed Rafael as his most dear brother and friend more than anything else. The truth was, it was as if fucking in some way, in some lost hour, was akin to making dinner for him, or to merely take him into a chaste embrace. Jesús knew Rafael intimately, and to allow him to see Jesús in the most splendid of lights was a prize worth offering, even if his cheeks burned as Rafael took to his knees and began to loosen the constraints of his trousers.

Before long, before he could even begin to second guess it, Rafael had his hard cock in his hand, a touch that had seemed long overdue even if he had begun to question the validity of such an act. Was Jesús so touched, starved to shiver and groan at the merest hand? No, for he had come to understand that anonymous sex was almost easier than he had imagined, and Rafael himself had been the impulse who had exposed such a way of life to Jesús. Still, endowed with a large cock if he was to be honest with himself, Jesús’ eyes fell heavily to invite complete darkness within, his bottom lip quivering as he shifted his weight back into the sofa, as to fall against the lush coverings so Rafael could tend to him as they had done, as they would continue to do.

“Merda…” he exhaled, the word rolling off his tongue like a thick drop of honey as he leaned his head back, the tightness of the skin on his neck pressed around his Adam’s Apple as his dearest friend sucked his balls and then his cock, leaving the Professor’s hands to the edge of his seat as his fingers curled for dear leverage — one lunging forward if only to knead the bend of Rafael’s shoulder, to finally relent and open his eyes as he watched most of his cock disappear into his mouth. Some part of him longed to ask if Rafael remembered the first time, or the second time, or when they had spent an awfully hot and sweaty summer in Tarragona desperate to get their kicks. It felt like only yesterday, even then, as he muffled a moan behind his lips, hesitatingly shifting so to press his cock a little deeper, as if to test if Rafael had gotten any better at that, and if finally he could take all of him.

“Have you missed that, mmm? Do you think you can take a little more?” He asked, his teasing lifted by a slight boyish chuckle, pulling his body back into the cushions behind him as his hand guided Rafael to follow, his thick fingers curling the short of his hair at the back of his head as he re-settled himself.

[Rafael de la Cruz]

It took time, most nights, to coax Jesús back to the most wicked and wanton of Rafael's ways – of both of their ways, for however much the archeologist might deny it otherwise. In the playwright's own memories, it had ever been the same. He did not think himself a particularly courageous man, and yet it was his hands, teasing and searching, that had first explored Jesús' body; it was his mouth that had fallen to the other's lips and skin, his hungers that had prompted the other over and over.

Lord knew that if it were up to Jesús, there would only be endless planning and never any action.

No, that wasn't entirely kind of him. Jesús was perfectly capable of taking the initiative, perfectly capable of sating his hungers when the mood struck him. But there was a thrill to it, wasn't there? Thinking of himself as some kind of Jezebel, a temptress sent to seduce the otherwise godly man into the most licentious of sin. Was Sodom not destroyed for just this, among their many sins? Had there not had to have been some demon sent to show them those sins to begin with? And so it was with the two of them: Jesús the eager pupil, and Rafael eager in turn to teach him.

They had taught each other, though, when the haze of romantic fantasy was set aside. In so many things Jesús had been the first for Rafael; an explorer breaking ground, planting a flag upon virgin soil. The result was that there was no one who knew Rafael quite so intimately, and it was ever to both of their benefit.

The gentle pressure, the muffled moan, the laugh and the tease – all of it was pure aphrodisiac to Rafael's ears. He was left aching between his legs, and in the pit of his stomach, even as he reached for Jesús' ass to pull himself ever further down the length of that magnificent cock. It would be a challenge, to be certain, especially at this angle, to swallow the whole of it; but both his love for Jesús and the hand upon him encouraged him further. To the questions placed before him, he could only moan low in agreement and longing. Water gathered in his eyes as he looked up at the other through his lashes, but he would not be deterred.

Even after Jesús shifted, pulling him along with, he was singularly focused on his task. His jaw ached for it, and his throat did not take to it kindly, but for three long heartbeats he finally managed to bury his nose in the curl of black hair at the base of it. Then muscles spasmed in complaint, and he gagged, eyes fully streaming as he pushed himself back up the length of it to free his mouth to gasp for air. Jesús deserved better – he deserved every pleasure in the world, of course – but that it had been managed at all was victory enough for Rafael. "God, but your father must have been a horse," he laughed, voice hoarse in the way that only a cock could leave it.

Complaint aside, he quickly set himself upon Jesús' cock again, though he had little intentions of only setting his mouth upon it before the night was through. Running his tongue up the side of it, sucking upon that smooth helmeted head, and then stroking it, he beseeched his dearest and kindest friend, "Use me, Jesú. Let me make you happy." Undoubtedly the other might offer that Rafael's presence alone accomplished that, but it was not what the playwright meant and they both knew it. Had Jesús a harsher nature, Rafael would ask him to be cruel, to be demanding, to take with no thought of anything but achieving his own pleasure. It was not in Jesús' nature, though, and so instead Rafael would content himself to be worshipful, which was just as well, and just as much his own nature.

[Jesús de Torres y Pineda]

It was true that Jesús put importance on the matter of intimacy, though perhaps such a fact had come to fruition after Amira, or at least had grown somewhat stronger and bolder in ways that he would rather forget. With Rafael, it was easy, even if they introduced someone else to their party tricks Jesús could easily perform the part needed. Fucking wasn’t hard, it was actual heart-worn desire that left him to tremble.

Jesús moved back if only to make himself comfortable in a rare decision of selfishness, but it was perhaps easy to be so, when he could trace the footsteps back toward what had once been when Jesús had been much younger and full of an inflated ego once he realised his cock was bigger than his peers. Holding the back of his head, his spectacles began to fall from his nose, so much so that he was forced to use his second hand to put them aside with care, balancing them instead atop the arm of the sofa even if he had copies back in his room.

Alas, he watched and waited for Rafael to take the bait, his dark eyes lidded and full of angst for the tears that welled up beneath his eyelashes before Jesús’s face flinched a little as he felt the head of his cock press against the slick back of Rafael’s throat, a moan swollen with delight and perhaps surprise bursting from the confines of his mouth, a shiver of pure thrill vibrating up his back in a twinned dance.

“God,” He called, a small laugh filling the air as his hand kneaded the back of Rafael’s head, the sentiment of his inheritance almost too jarringly hilarious to withstand as he fell slack against the pillows behind him, his thighs spread either side of Rafael’s body as his cock, now wet with the other’s saliva, remained stubborn and tall before them both. Still, he continued to watch as Rafael set the discomfort of his throat aside to caress him, to coax his erection into a quiver and then a sudden throb as Jesús struggled to keep his eyes open; a small drop of pre-cum dripping from his cock as Rafael lavished him in attention.

Jesús was no holy man, no pious icon of goodwill and humility. When he was alone, when Rafael was beyond the city’s reach and he had no comfort to will him back to his true nature, Jesús had never been too afraid to venture out into London’s nightlife — though it was to be said that he rarely took to a brothel, if only because he hadn’t the change to spend on a girl when he could lure someone closer with his natural charm. There he would use them for what he had earlier insisted was but a mechanical need to serve a basic scratch, a quick fuck followed by small talk and then, if they were any good at all, a second fuck. But everything was always treated with more care and weight than he would have liked, and it was him who would explain himself and that he wanted no true relationship due to his daughter, rather than the truth that was his own wants and needs.. But it was something, compared to a quick fuck and run.

“If you want me to fuck you, you just had to ask,” Jesús smiled, that broad kind of smile that threatened to spill over into boyish laughter as he pushed Rafael’s hands from his erection, gliding his hand over himself instead in familiar, slow touches to cease the incoming pressure that cast to colour him useless to both himself and his friend. “But aren’t you well fucked these days, my friend? Surely you must be.”

[Rafael de la Cruz]

To be denied that hard cock, in the same breath that Jesús spoke so teasingly, drew a needy groan from Rafael. He was not at all cross with this turn of events; indeed, his cock twitched in his soft trousers as he obediently let his hands fall to Jesús' thighs, kneading and petting the skin there for lack of permission to touch that which he wanted most desperately of all.

Though he did not begrudge Jesús, able to recognize the break for what it was, it did not stop him from pouting up at the other man as prettily as he could manage. Never would he dare to go against even an implied order, but that did not stop him from leaning close again, breath ghosting hotly across the thing he wanted most in the world, at that moment. "No one fucks me like you," he half-praised, half-whined, allowing his head to lay down upon Jesús' thigh, displacing a hand that reached for that delicious prick only to fall empty to the couch.

Rafael was nothing more than a particularly obedient dog in this moment, having had quite the meaty bone set before him but being told to leave it. He would do nothing without Jesús' say-so... Save, perhaps, to play the brat should he think it beneficial to the evening's plans. But for now, he merely could only stare worshipfully at that which he desired, and was denied.

"Don't be cruel, Jesús, do not make me beg!" In spite of the whine of his voice, he would not be so opposed to doing precisely that. He would not stroke that magnificent cock without permission; neither would he reach between his own legs to soften the ache of his untended cock. "You are so big, and fill me so well. No one in London has a cock as perfect as yours, sir." It was half the truth, even; flattery that needn't even be falsehood, which made it that more sincere when Rafael offered the words to his dearest friend.

Neither of the two of them had the egos of lesser men, and hypocritical as it may be, Rafael was well aware of how well Jesús enjoyed a stroking of his ego. Sometimes, even, he thought that Jesú's ego was not only bigger than his cock, but a bigger erogenous zone entirely. It would not do to be entirely too obvious about his intentions and the machinations behind the words, but neither was he ever able to hide any part of himself from Jesús, even if it was the wheedling, needy whore that lived in part of Rafael's soul.

[Jesús de Torres y Pineda]

It was entirely selfish, but to hear Rafael’s praise was heavenly, for though he was not so proud or loud about how well endowed he was by nature, he often liked to hear the observations of his companion. His cock even twitched with merriment as Rafael lay his head on his thigh with such sparkling adoration in his eyes. Transported from what was to what had been, Jesús thought of those sun soaked late afternoons between study or play, those excited fucks where the two couldn’t get enough of one another even when Jesús was spent to the quick.

With a tender touch he extended his free hand to caress the top of his friend’s head, casting fingers into the depths of his hair as the other stroked the throb of his cock, a small huff of laughter held in the back of his throat as Rafael spun honey into the air between them. He released his own arousal with little care, letting it stand on end as he shifted his weight to the very edge of the seat in order to press his lips to Rafael’s — to take his sweet compliments and devour them as his hand cast it self down toward Rafa’s own clothed groin, the width of his grasp finding his friend’s pleasure without fault, a smirk unravelling against his features from the corner of his pleased lips.

“I am sure you are simply being sweet on me,” Jesús hushed, palming his hand against Rafael before his fingers reached to undo his trousers — loosening the fabric as he bowed his head to burrow his face into the side of Rafael’s own, busying himself with his hand as he found his cock with little searching, stroking Rafael slowly as his own throbbed in anticipation.

Slowly, after a moment or two, he retracted his hand only to rise to his own two feet, pushing his trousers down to his ankles in order to step out of them with a heavy breath — desire wrapping itself around his affection for his friend as he went to help Rafa out of his own. “Help me,” Jesús laughed, “...get out of them so I can fuck you properly.”