Thicker Than Bone

4th July 2009

4th July 2009

Fuck the buses, f**k the rain, and f**k family visits.

But—finally—they’d escaped from Ali’s mother, and caught dinner in the city centre together before wandering back towards Yazid’s, hands in pockets in deference to the crowded Saturday night atmosphere.

“Well,” Yazid said as they turned the corner, the blocks of flats towering up either side of them, “this is me.”

Ali didn’t move.

“So…” Yazid started, and then found his mouth occupied by Ali’s tongue. It was brief, but dirty enough, Ali’s teeth making themselves known on Yazid’s bottom lip before pulling slowly away. “So, want to come up?” Yazid asked.

Ali’s smile glittered in the orange glow from the streetlights, and it outshone the grubby communal stairwell and the flaking paint on Yazid’s front door.

Yazid had the distinct impression Ali was working off a script Yazid wasn’t privy to, but f**k it. If it made Ali kiss like that…

He was kissed just inside the door, too, and then Ali pushed him up against it and was pulling at the zip on Yazid’s jacket. It wasn’t…urgent, exactly, but there was something—

“You’re grabby,” Yazid settled on eventually.

Ali laughed. He sounded slightly high.

“I just…thank you for coming today,” he said breathlessly. He was a little flushed, spots of pink high on his pale cheeks, and his hair was windswept from the walk back. He looked stunning.

Yazid cupped the back of Ali’s neck and pressed forward for an open kiss that felt distinctly…promising.

“Stop interrupting me,” Ali argued against his lips.

Yazid laughed.

“You interrupted me outside.”

“True,” Ali whispered, fisting both hands in Yazid’s T-shirt. “Your room.”

Yazid blinked and pulled back. They hadn’t gone that far yet, but there was something in the fervent way Ali had said it…

“Your room,” Ali repeated before wrapping a kiss around Yazid’s mouth. He pushed his entire body forward, and Yazid cupped those narrow hips in both hands. Even through heavy denim, he could feel Ali’s interest.

“You sure?” he asked once he was allowed.

Ali beamed again.

“You came to see my mother even though you had doubts, and she went and proved you totally right, and—you know, you had every right to get pissed off with her and with me, only you didn’t, and…”

He trailed off, shook his head, and kissed Yazid again.

Yazid smiled and gave in to whatever excitement was bubbling over, sliding his arms right around Ali’s hips and pulling until they were touching from mouth to legs. Ali’s knee slid—perhaps accidentally—between Yazid’s thighs, and without quite meaning to, Yazid rocked his hips forward and caught the muted groan between their lips.

“Your room,” Ali whispered fervently, and began to pull at Yazid’s shoulders.

Yazid’s room was all bed and nothing else, the space too small to fit a proper bedroom in it, and they tumbled gracelessly onto the mattress. Ali’s hands were suddenly under Yazid’s T-shirt, fingers raking through his chest hair and up onto his shoulders, Yazid shedding the fabric at the unspoken command. Ali’s shirt took a little longer, but then suddenly they were half-naked and Ali’s tongue was in Yazid’s mouth and he was shifting his hips in those tiny, stop-start motions against Yazid’s crotch in a maddening way.

“I want you to—” Ali started.

Yazid backed up a little, propping his weight on his elbows and dropping his face to mouth at Ali’s bare chest. Ali had the most sensitive n*****s Yazid had ever tongued, and the way he’d groan and shiver and clutch his fingers in Yazid’s hair…

Oh yeah, just like that.

“I’m trying to talk to you!” Ali whined, voice rising when Yazid wrapped his mouth around the other n****e and sucked. “Oh my God.” His fingers fisted in Yazid’s hair, and Yazid was guided back to the left n****e.

He smiled and kissed it.

“You were saying?”

“I was…” Ali said, then groaned. “C’mere, c’mere…”

Yazid was pulled by the hair into a kiss, and laughed into it before pulling himself free again and starting to pay homage to Ali’s neck. Ali had the kind of skin that bruised easily, and he had the kind of body that would shudder and twist when it was played just right. Yazid couldn’t wait until he was allowed to play it properly, and find out just the way Ali moved when you got right inside him.

Ali was bolder than usual, trailing his hands down Yazid’s chest and around his waist before kneading at his back in rhythmic circles. Yazid dared to hope for a little progress, cupping the back of Ali’s thigh and coaxing his legs a little further open. The friction got heavier, more intense, and Yazid started to thrust lightly until Ali was clutching at his shoulders again and making tiny, almost unnoticeable gasps with every movement. This was like being on fire, the pressure in his jeans and the quiet noises Ali would make. Yazid dropped his mouth to Ali’s collarbone and sucked another mark into life, pushing into Ali’s hands when they hooked into the waistband of his jeans.

“Can I…?”

“What?” Yazid murmured when Ali trailed off, and shifted back up to run his lips along a sweat-damp jaw. “What d’you want?”

“Can I…?” Ali repeated, but again didn’t finish. He was rubbing a thumb over the button on Yazid’s jeans, and a thrill sparked like a firework in Yazid’s chest. Ali had never done that before.

“Yeah,” he whispered, but Ali didn’t move. “Al?”

“I…”

Ali’s eyes were nearly black, the icy blue barely a line around the blown pupils, yet there was the faintest trace of anxiety when he met Yazid’s gaze.

“I don’t know what to expect,” Ali whispered breathlessly. “I’ve never—not with a—”

Yazid stilled entirely, the thrill replaced by a combination of irritation, anger, and hurt. “I’m not an alien, Ali,” he said, his voice sounding harsh to his own ears. “It’s just like anyone else’s.”

Ali blinked, the blue creeping back in, and then he made a strangled noise. “No! No, not like—I mean…I’ve never…done this before. With another man. Any other man. I didn’t mean…”

It clicked. “You’ve never touched someone else’s c**k?”

“No,” Ali whispered. His chest was slowing, and Yazid decided against it, running his lips down that marked neck and over the gentle slope of skin and muscle until he found that abused n****e again. “Jesus! Je—do that again, do it again…”

Yazid did it again, then seized Ali’s wrist and brought the hand back down to the button. “Go on,” he whispered, and sucked on the sweet spot just under Ali’s n****e. “Don’t think about it, just do it.”

The button popped free and Yazid shifted back to kiss Ali’s neck, jaw, and ear in quick succession. Ali’s hand clutched at the denim but didn’t go further, and Yazid had to awkwardly reach between them to free himself from the confines of his jeans. The pressure was getting too much, and Ali’s uncertainty was weirdly hot.

An idea sparked in the back of Yazid’s head.

“Look at me,” he whispered against Ali’s mouth and pulled back just far enough to catch those strangely-dark eyes with his own. “Just look at me, yeah? Trust me?”

“Yeah,” Ali breathed.

“Just pretend it’s yours with sound effects,” Yazid whispered, wrapping Ali’s cool fingers around his c**k—and then he had to pause and concentrate f*****g hard when Ali’s eyes widened and that gorgeous smile blossomed in time with the gentle squeeze of his fingers. “f**k!”

Ali laughed, sounding giddy, and did it again. His hands were smooth and soft against Yazid’s overheated erection. When he gently slid his palm up the underside, Yazid had to screw the idea, bury his face in Ali’s neck, and swear.

“Oh my God,” Ali laughed, and squeezed again.

Yazid thrust forward into the sensation, and Ali’s laugh fractured into a groan as their c***s brushed, separated only by Ali’s still-intact jeans.

“Oh my God, come here, come here…”

A hand tangled in Yazid’s hair, the other still massaging his c**k, and he was kissed back into something resembling self-control. Ali was getting into a rhythm now, and Yazid kissed him hungrily, tongues and teeth clashing around stolen air.

Ali’s voice was barely audible. “Let me see you, let me…” He pulled Yazid back by the hair until Yazid felt suspended, a hand on his c**k and another fisted in his hair and nothing in-between, having to support himself on hands and knees, and—how was this possible, how was someone so virginal so f*****g filthy, how could he make Yazid feel so utterly debauched by just laughing and staring with blue-black eyes, how—

When Yazid came, it was to the room spinning and Ali’s awed, wide-eyed expression, and a strange pressure on the inside of his chest, a little bit like—

Love.