He loved the look of it, the texture, the taste, the smell, everything about it. Cream-colored, soft as freshly washed cotton sheets, salt and lavender on his tongue, filling his nostrils. Loved the way it puckered under his hands, loved the way it felt, so hot, so smooth on his fingers. Loved the way the dark hairs on Karl's chest, arms, thighs stood when he breathed over them, teased the flesh with his tongue, his mouth. his hand slicked up his cock, slow and steady, fingers wrapped around in a loose circle, the other hand massaging his balls with a light touch. the indefinable scent of 'Wet' teased his nostrils, mixed in with sweat, the smell washing over him. he moved in small strokes, easing his hand over his flesh, delighted in making his cock twitch, loved the feel of it under his hands. slowly, slowly, drew out the pleasure at first, wanted it to last as long as possible In Harry's fantasy, Karl's skin trembled for him and only him. Harry thought about Karl, naked and needy, cock erect and begging for Harry's touch, splayed out on his bed, hands above his head, stretched out like an offering, a pagan sacrifice. And Harry was a god collecting his prize. Start with the toes, the lovely arch of feet, the bones of the ankle. Move up to calves, the curve of them, the solid muscle of them, the way they flexed under his hands. Thighs like marble parted for him, beckoned him to taste and sample and lick...solid and firm and so very warm and welcoming. Balls hard and aching, cock curving from a tangle of black curls, needing only the pleasure he could bring it, needing his mouth, his tongue, his ass. Flat stomach curving up from solid hips, the bone of them jutting at an angle designed to showcase an abdomen Harry could spend days worshipping. Toned chest sprinkled with hair invited his attention, nipples hardening for him, because of him. Arms and shoulders sculpted with care and love, biceps and triceps and forearms built to hold, made to please. Supple hands, long tapered fingers designed to bring him to madness with their touch, with their attention. A face made for study, eyes that always tempted, seduced, cheekbones soft to the touch, lips he could nibble forever, full and lush and pink. faster now, increased the pressure of his hand on his cock, pressed the fingers of his other hand into his ass, moved in circles inside the tight walls. breathing harsh, eyes closed, knees bent for better access, moving his hand faster and faster on his cock, carelessly spilling lube when hurriedly reapplying. yes more faster need yes Harry could spend years on each part alone. Draw forth raspy sighs, demands for more, deep moans, aching choked whispers to hurry, don't stop. Harry wanted all of those sounds filling his ears, filling his brain, surrounding him, a symphony of his choosing, to make into what he pleased. That deep, smooth voice sighing his name over and over, the low, rich sounds speaking words meant to entice, meant to coax. Karl's body was a playground for his private amusement, fashioned for his personal pleasure. Karl's mouth was made for Harry's cock, made to house his flesh in the wet cavern of it, made to suck and lave him until he couldn't take any more of the sweet torture. Karl's hands were made to find every pleasure-point of Harry's body, to tease him, map him, run over his flesh, nails digging into him, leaving marks, branding him. Karl's ass was fashioned for Harry's invasion, the sweet curves of it round and lush, the perfect cradle for his cock, the perfect home. Sliding inside that willing, tight, ringed flesh was always the most intense satisfaction, knowing Karl would yield to him, surrender to him, accept him. Moving inside Karl with sure thrusts, drawing forth those sexy moans, was the best enticement in the world, the most erotic feeling in the world. Karl under him, over him, coming apart for him, his world reduced to Harry's cock inside him, reduced to Harry's body over him. throat constricted, chest heaving, body damp from sweat and lube, and his hand was almost frantic now, moved with desperate movements, in a frenzied pace. two fingers inside his ass now, corkscrewing and twisting, brushing his prostate, just enough to enhance the orgasm welling inside him. yes karl yes faster god. he threw his head back, groaning, chanting karl's name over and over in benediction, as he spilled over his stomach, his groin, his hand Perhaps one day Harry would step outside the world he'd built for himself, perhaps one day he'd experience the reality of Karl. Perhaps one day he'd find out if that mouth was as soft as it looked, if he could make Karl really shiver, make him beg. Perhaps one day he'd find out what Karl really tasted like, what he smelled like after sex, whether he was pliant or bouncy, whether he came screaming or in silence. Perhaps. Until then, he'd think about Karl. Think about Karl making him come, think about Karl's hands on him. Think about cream skin and willing flesh. And ache. Onto Thankful
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