Monty looked at me with his brilliant blue eyes and I nearly choked.
"Is something wrong Percy?" He asked. A silly question of course because nothing could ever be wrong when he's near, which makes me feel like a sap.
"No." Dear god, I wanted to bed him then and there. How could he be so handsome and so stupid at the same time? We sat on some sort of balcony of watching the sunset. Well, he was watching the sunset.
I leaned across the patio furniture and kissed him, placing my hands gingerly on either side of his face. And he kissed me back and I forgot to breathe for a second. Until he climbed over the table and situated himself on my lap, straddling me with a muscular leg on either side, at which I let out some kind of involuntary moan as I ran my hands up and down his sculpted chest. He moved to my neck as I unbuttoned his shirt as fast as I possibly could. And like lightning, his collarbones, and chest, and stomach were out in the salty ocean air. I pulled his face back up to meet mine and our tounges intertwined like flamenco dancers.
Then I started on his pesky pants, working the buttons without looking as to keep my mouth on Monty's. He was so warm, and he tasted like red wine and bread. He started un-tucking my shirt from my breeches, pulling it out in handfuls as he unbuckled my black belt, and I moved to his shoulders, kissing and sucking on his soft skin. Despite my efforts to cool down, I was growing harder by the second.
"Shall we take this to the bedroom darling?" He wondered, breathless. His cheeks were flushed a pomegranate red.
I replied by picking him, grabbing his ass and stumbling through the glass french doors. I set him down on the bed, and then closed the doors and drew the blinds.
"Come over here," he teased, sitting up on his knees. "I want to finish taking your clothes off." And so I did, and we were kissing again, but this time I could feel him throbbing against me because he was hard too. He pulled at my shirt so hard a few buttons ripped off and fell to the floor silently. And he was kissing my neck again, but with so much passion that he was scraping me with his teeth and I did not mind one bit because I just wanted to take his pants off. So I occupied myself with finding a way to pull them off of him without separating his mouth from the stubble beneath my chin.
We finally got them off, as well as my own, and now both of us were completely naked and rubbing against each other like wild animals.
"I am not a particularly talented man…" said Monty, sitting up and wiping his mouth. "However I would say that I am good at two things, hating Richard Peele…"
"WE HATE RICHARD PEELE!" I laughed. "What's the other thing?"
"Oral sex. Are you sure you're ready? Because I don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way shape or form."
"Positive, take my virginity Henry Monteque."
"I was hoping you would say that," Monty said, kissing down my chest, and then my stomach, and then my hips and then oh dEAR GOD. My toes curled and my hips moved with him as he held me in his mouth, sucking and licking and god knows what else. The feeling swept through my body like a wide river and I was finding it hard to catch my breath. His hands were holding my knees in place. I had goosebumps in places I didn't know one could have goosebumps.
"Monty, I-I'm getting close." I gasped, and he stopped.
"Wait right there." He replied, standing up and dashing out of the room.
"So what? Are you just going to leave me here like this?"
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm coming back." and he appeared in the doorway like a fever dream, with messy hair, about a dozen love-bites on his neck and shoulders, and a bottle of olive oil in his left hand.
"Oh, I didn't even think about that." I laughed.
"It makes it a lot easier." He shrugged. "Do you want to be the bottom or the top?"
"The top?"
"Thank god!" He winked and then fell back on to the bed beside me. I climbed on top of him this time, kissing him once again, biting his bottom lip, and then kissing down his chest, following the trail of curly hair leading to his prick. I put it in my mouth and began to suck, and lick. I think he was just moaning and groaning to humor me. After a little while, he pulled me back up to his mouth. "Are you ready?"
"Mmmhmm," I muttered, unwilling to take my tongue out of his mouth. I grabbed the bottle of olive oil. "How much do I use?" I was breathing like I had just finished a long grueling swim.
"A fuck ton." He laughed, I slicked myself up. "Put it in already I'm tired of waiting." And so I did. And he was tight and warm and although I had imagined this for years, playing with myself beneath bedsheets late at night, it felt so much better than I ever dreamed of. He ran through me like an electric current. Our chests were pressed tightly together as my fingers ran through his hair. And I was kissing him, but not directly on the mouth because that took more precision than I had because I was seeing spotty. Gutteral, animalistic sounds escaped me.
"I love you, Percy." He moaned.
"I love you too Monty."
"Percy-I think I'm going to…"
"Me too-" And we climaxed together, making a gigantic mess in the process.
Later, after calming down and cleaning things up, we were intertwined in our bed, limbs so tangled up we could barely tell who they belonged to. Our hands interlocked and his head rested on my shoulder.
"Was that… okay for you?" I asked.
"Percy, it was wonderful. For you?"
"Ditto." And that beautiful bastard laughed again and cupped my face gently with his hand. How could this ever be wrong? How could loving him be anything but glorious, and breathtakingly beautiful? His dimples overflowed with the streaming silver moonlight as we lie there, not quite ready to sleep as to soak each other in a little while longer.