InsaneJournal

Current mood:	satisfied
Entry tags:	far-ahaq, first work, helena, in my time of dying, nano, rated r, roxie, teenager, what i'd say

Section 6 (Instalment 2)
Word count: 2 134

ooc: Probably disturbing material with underage sex underneath cut. Read at your own risk.

One day, sometime later, Max wondered if part of the reason why she was so alluring till the hour he walked out wasn't because it was never her. She was the temptation that lured him on, but it was never somebody he had. At that later day, it made sense to him even.

But not back then. Not back when the time came for him to get his actual first time, and it wasn't Helena, with her dark skin and smoldering eyes and the great scarf embracing her figure that he wanted to pull away slowly like unwrapping a present that he knew the contents of (except that he didn't. It was always translucent clothing at best, if revealing, and he wanted to know) and the scents which could turn his head if she only passed by the door of the room he was in or turn his head up if he spent more than a few minutes in her proximity, every single time. (At that later date, he could appreciate the art that she employed; and how much of that she'd taught him, directly or by example. But not back then.)

Back then, it was a different flavor that was dealt him. One of blonde merry curls, and of bright smiling blue eyes, and a face that look so young as to be fresh as a peach that you wanted to suckle on. And of curves that bounced when she was walking, and a sweet voice that didn't let, he knew later, customers care exactly how old she was. Just had them doing whatever she pleased, those innocent blue eyes filled with want and sincerity.

He might have sulked that it wasn't Helena. He would have too; only a few days here had given him leave to indulge in things like sulks (the temptation to measure sulks and pouts with the girls and make them work on them was way too great) - but everybody here knew their craft way too well, and they chose somebody who matched his cheerfulness, his crazy statements and stupid jokes, with merriment that steered him far and away from anything unpleasant.

This time, he could touch. He was allowed to touch anywhere he wanted to.

This time, he could ask the questions, and boy did he get answers. Her voice grew softer and throatier as his questions probed; the replies themselves got more detailed, and directed in such a way as to make his imagination make more of the words even as his fingers traced and explored and caressed and were guided and he could see how and when and where they were enjoyed.

And this time, he was being touched.

He knew already that just seeing and smelling and listening could make him ache and throb and come so close to exploding that he could barely wait till he was allowed to go ahead. But being touched was another level of experience altogether.

Because Max Parker lived, just as his mother, through the mind and the senses, and Roxie knew how to play that generously. Words to woo the awareness, and voice with sighs and gasps at the right places to lure hearing along. Sweet, unobtrusive smell that still made some part of him (and oh how he couldn't figure that out, not at thirteen) focus on her and not want to move his attention away. The sweet looks to enchant his sight. The pressure and motion of her fingers and then her body against his; of her lips pressed against his, finally, the pressure of her tongue coaxing them open. The taste of her mouth. Of her skin.

That night seemed to last for weeks, and he learned touches he wouldn't forget for the rest of his life; and after a certain point, he didn't care, he just let himself go and follow whatever she had in store. And that was a lot. And he loved every single motion, every single sound, every single moment.

Perhaps it wasn't, as such, making love. He was thirteen and she was maybe six years older and they'd only known each other days, and it was her craft and she was teaching him it.

But it was pretty amazing, and left him to believe for life that with the right willingness, the right circumstances, and open consent, and only a pinch of knowledge, there was nothing wrong or dirty about sex.

On the next morning, he was exhausted, to the point of barely keeping awake for the lessons with his mentor... the daytime, wizarding mentor. But he was absolutely filled with desire to learn also how to do that. Give so much pleasure to anyone. No matter what the level of experience.

He had a lot to learn. Again. And he planned on making the most of every single instant of it.

It didn't make temptation, that is, Helena any less alluring. Just more understandable.

It was another lesson that he learned a lot later but the seeds of which were sown that night. To learn to deal with temptation, the most effective way was to seep into it. Then and only then the decision of whether to embrace or reject it held its proper weight.

It took three more of his colleagues before he was first given a client of his very own. A few weeks. Not even the first one was dissatisfied with what he accomplished, even if his street-wise nickname 'Fast Max' got a new, slightly amused tinge during that time. Sensual overload. Short quick spurs. But he knew how to make sure nobody was left ... undone.

---

Max didn't know why the first time he was with a man, it was a customer and not a colleague. It would have been intimidating, just because he had to perform well, obviously on top of not exactly knowing what it would feel like. Except that the couple of months here had allowed him to learn how even customers here were. They came for pleasure, and pleasure in certain tastes, and they were never mismatched with somebody who wouldn't get pleasure of what was expected of him or her.

In this time, he'd learned to trust Helena's selection of how things were to be. Just as everybody else here trusted her. It worked admirably. And he thought this one would too.

Far-ahaq was, Max knew, a relatively regular presence downstairs, even if he didn't know which of the employees upstairs he visited. It didn't matter, that was one of the things that Roxie had told him. Whoever else a client may be seeing, when he was in his room, that was his time, and he's not thinking about anybody else, and he's not letting the customer think about anybody else either.

Being somewhat unique, age-based, that last bit was rather easy to achieve.

And yet he really didn't know what to expect.

He shouldn't have feared.

The olive-skinned man seemed to know barely less about how to touch him than the women did. And how to let Max touch in turn. The softness and the curves that he'd gotten used to were now replaced by smooth skin, muscles firm underneath it. Slick. It seemed just the fact that he was curious and touching him like that was enough to get the older man all heated up and excited. And that, surprisingly, got Max himself to harden a bit. The knowledge that he had the ... power. To do that.

It became easier after that. Far-ahaq knew how to touch, but it only took a little bit for Max to figure it out. Their bodies were almost similar, if of different sizes. What was pleasurable on one... definitely proved to be working on the other. And then it felt strangely satisfactory to hold another's cock in his hand, see how the motions that could get his own self moan and twitch and want for more worked on the person whom he ... aimed to please. And they did sure work.

He waited for a moment when his guest's head was thrown back when he leaned to do what he'd experienced could be done with mouth... if it worked on him, it had to work on Far-ahaq, right? Of course, his cock was bigger (presently, he'd learn - he still had space to grow that way, he was glad to find out, later) he decided he could brave it. And oh it so got quite a reaction. Possibly it was the unexpectedness, but the older man'd body arch, tensing, pushing more of the shaft between his lips. It took a slight bight of fumbling, mostly recalling what would have been done to him... but he figured it out. Not that he had much time to experiment before that round was over.

It didn't taste that badly at all.

He rose slightly, watching over the body laid out before him, firm muscles slightly reacting still to the climax, chest heaving, dark skin sheened in sweat, hair plastered against skin.
And found it beautiful too.

Not the same way that a woman's body was. It was entirely different - and entirely enchanting too. He smiled slightly, then started running his fingers along the outlines again. Not aiming to excite now. Just to feel the pleasure of touch. And give it.

That got Far-ahaq to moan, happily, and open his eyes smiling. "You liked that."

"Yes."

"I thought you might." A look along Max's body, and a grin. "Actually, I see you liked it a lot."

Max swallowed, and grinned wider. "Yea--" and then there was a larger, strange palm on his cock, pressing just a little more than he would, and that got him even harder and he gasped.

And there were lips against his now, pressing harder than a woman's would, demanding, as the fist worked down, thumb and fingers and palm working fast, with experience as the other arm went around him, warm, sweaty, welcome, and in almost, it seemed, moments, he was shooting out, crying out in pleasure. Not quite as it was when he was coming inside somebody. But better than doing it himself. Soon after that, he relaxed slightly, finding himself wrapped in two strong arms, holding him tightly, welcoming him. He was pulled against that muscled chest, and kissed some more.

And he knew it wasn't over yet, but there was no longer fear. It had dissolved into the new kind of pleasure that he was discovering, and there was no taking it away now. He didn't have to limit himself to girls only, after all. That thought was strangely satisfying. Then again, he was almost strangely satisfied, just so.

The rest went on no less pleasurably, in fact. Oh sure, it was strange, but after having had the first edge of lust dulled, his first man was careful when they got to the penetration part. Slow, and pulling out, until about the third time Max just wanted more of him inside, and frankly said so. For some reason (hah, that got clearer as years brought experience) just saying that made Far-ahaq to groan, and indeed push further. His hands traced Max's back, around to caress his chest, then down between the legs as slow rockings made the feeling of fullness get even better, and then he was also stroking him, and the boy's body was literally suddenly shivering between the pleasure of the two.

Writhing. That's what he was doing. Writhing and uttering sounds that he didn't register the kind of. Just the pleasure.

He came first. In fact, he came before the man's thrusts even sped up into the actual strength of it all. In fact, he came so fast that he was hard and almost to that point by the time he felt the cock in him spasm and the body against his back tense, arch, and the hips buck uncontrolled as climax happened, and then some.

Far-ahaq slid sideways, gasping, breathless, face stretched into a grin of satisfaction, sweat trickling along his skin. Max stood on his knees for a few more moments, then leaned carefully and kissed him. Carefully, not everybody wanted that right after coming. But it was welcomed. And the big dark hand mercifully slid down, quickly, skilfully finishing him off.

This was... rougher, harder, different from what he'd had before, Max had to admit to himself. Different from what he'd thought about having. But oh it felt good, just lying back beside Far-ahaq, listening to the breathing of the both of them, smelling the sweat and come and bodies of both. Filled, oiled, stretched, drained. Body still abuzz with it all.

He could grow to love it as much as all the rest, he realized. In fact, maybe he already was.

It was... pleasure. Nothing less.

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