Fall is Coming

Chapter Four

Watching...

I watch them from the safety of the shadows and I think they are far too wrapped up in each other to be aware that I am here but I am not really sure? I am not so hidden, in this cloudless moonlit vista that I am cloaked by invisibility but if they see me, they pay me no never-mind, so I linger.

It may be that they know I am watching them and they just don't care? Or maybe they are even getting off on knowing I am here?

Whichever it is, they are not letting my presence inhibit them and their coupling is beautifully sensual and erotic to observe, so I savor them, my wickedly voyeuristic urges winning out over innate decency this once.

They are well matched in height, the fairer one of the two being maybe just an inch or two taller but he is much stockier, more obviously powerful than the dark-haired one is.

His shoulders are broad, tapering to a slim waist and hips but his hands are large and strong looking. Strangely, for all his extra height and power it is the darker, leaner, slighter man who seems to be in charge of the situation.

He has the plaid-shirted one trapped against the wall, his booted-feet spread wide, his invading limb forced between the other's bowed legs and he is presses wantonly close to the heavier man's body, kissing him passionately.

The dark-haired man's hands grip tightly at the other's upper arms, pushing him against the rough stone, as his mouth devours his kiss-bruised lips. The adoration is hungry and almost brutally loving, like he fears the brown-haired man will flee if he lessens his grip on him, but I see this is untrue.

The pinned-one's eyes are alive with reciprocated, if somewhat surprised, lust, and blaze green-gold with dilated desire. His hands are pressed, palm flat to the wall but I see his mouth working just as eagerly as the instigator's as they kiss and lick and suck needfully at each other.

The stockier one moves his hand and plants it on the leaner one's hip and I hear a graveled-voice growl of admonishment.

"No."

The dark-haired one's electric blue eyes radiate warning and the encroaching hand withdraws urgently.

"You do not get to touch..."

He has his hand splayed against the heavier one's chest now and I see that one nod obediently, their assigned roles well matched in this, their erotic fantasy.

"I'm sorry."

He whispers softly and bows his head in comfortable, convincing subservience and the brittle moonlight paints the tips of his brown hair with a golden diadem that suits his contrite, vitruvian perfection.

"Kiss me."

The dominant, dark-haired man orders, his hand pressed hard to heaving flesh.

"Show me that you are really sorry."

He stares intently at the other as he makes his quiet but authoritative demand and I see the slightest hint of a smile play at the green-eyed one's mouth as he nods and leans slowly in.

His kisses are chaste, endlessly tender and I think, (hope?) I hear him sign softly as he feathers his sweetly-ravaged, criminally-full lips over the other's mouth.

They stand like this for minutes. The heavier man lost to their increasing passion as his hands first claw dutifully against the wall and then, break free in their need to touch and pet and fondle equally and through it all, the dark haired man continues to torture and tease in blissful, playful cruelty.

The leader's hand moves now as they lick and suck to a crescendo, he grabs at pert ass and tight, toned abs. Runs his fingers roughly through the other's short, spiky brown hair and I wonder how long I can spy on them before my own increasing noises of pleasure alert them to my uninvited presence?

But however long it is, I will stay and vicariously share in their sweet, stolen and arousing torment.

For it, and they, are beautiful to see.

chapter ends