For Ling, to say I'm sorry about those missed nights.

"You're having doubts about this," said Michael, turning on to his side as he slipped an arm around Brett's waist. Wads of hotel comforter balled up under his bare feet as he curled close.

Brett shook his head, black hair swishing against the white pillows. "Not about you and me." He took Michael's hand and pressed it against the long, stiff bulge hidden behind his black jeans. "This is proof enough of that. It's just..."

"What?" He ran his hand across Brett's naked chest, half to comfort his friend, half to stir him a bit more. Months of waiting, of phone calls and messages over the internet had lead to this moment. Here they were, at a convention together, alone and in private. No more Tiny Sex, no more phone sex...real contact. He ached with need. Maybe the worst was coming true? Maybe Brett did not want to be with him like this.

"You should be spending time with your girlfriend," he said, cupping Michael's hand against his heart. "She gets priority."

"Jeez, Brett. She understands," said Michael. "She's busy down at the dealer's room. Besides we're gonna be together all night-- I'm sorry."

Brett squeezed his hand. "Don't be. Not your fault I'm running solo in the world and all the lovers I have are borrowed ones..." He smiled, but all of Brett's smiles had shadows around them.

"Didn't mean to get you down," Michael said,leaning close. Brett reached over and ran a fingertip across his bare nipple. He shivered, feeling the skin tighten, and closed his eyes. His cock swelled again, digging into fly of his blue jeans, the pressure unbearable. Then the button snapped open and the zipper parted with a loud ripping. A warm hand slid beneath his jockey shorts and cupped his cock He opened his eyes.

"I'm not down," said Brett, pulling Michael's jeans down. His cock sprung up from its nest of curly pubic hair, the head pink and full. Brett's eyes gleamed as he grasped the shaft, stroking the loose skin. A tingling, cloying pressure built up in his cock. "But I might be if you don't get me naked."

Michael's mouth flooded with heat and saliva, hungry at the thought of Brett's naked prick. Before another word was spoken he scrabbled for his friend's belt, pulling the leather strap open and undoing his jeans. The mushroom bulge of his cock head pressed against his thin, cotton briefs. He bent down and brushed his cheek and lips, cat like, against Brett's trapped cock.

He heard Brett suck a breath in and arch his back, giving him a chance to yank down his shorts. Brett kicked his legs, yanking his pants away with his toes until he wore nothing but a watch and a tiny wolf pendant, now stuck to his chest by sweat. Michael lowered his gaze, focusing on Brett's engorged cock before opening his mouth and sliding his tongue along the swollen head.

"Oh, gods," Brett moaned. Michael ran his fingers along Brett's thighs, toying with the light black hair curling around his testicles before caressing the heavy sac. He opened his mouth, sucking in his lover's cock, licking and kissing it with loud, wet slurps, remembering when Brett admitted the sounds of sex aroused him almost as much as the act itself.

As the surge of raw pleasure ran through him, Brett's posture changed a little. The quiet, self-effacing Brett everyone saw at the convention faded away, melting like wax in the hot sun. Brett's fingers grasped his hair.

"Mmm...that feels wonderful, my pet. Keep going..." Michael shuddered, his cock surging at Brett's words. Gods, he loved Brett's dominant side. As his tongue ran across the warm, velvet of Brett's cock, pulled taut with desire, he cursed the world for making it so difficult for that part of him to ride free.

"Now, now..." Brett pushed against Michael's head, Brett's cock slipping loose with a wet pop. "Here I am, naked, and you're still mostly clothed, pet." He lay on his side, toying with his erection, rubbing the underside with two fingers. "Time to change that. Strip, my pet."

"Yes, Master," he purred. Michael crawled onto his knees and arched his back, pulling his favorite shirt--a white tiger on a black field--up along his belly, over his head. Locks of auburn hair fell over his eyes when he yanked the fabric free. He lightly pinched his nipples for Brett, who responded by licking his chops in a very canine way.

"Very good, pet." Brett toyed with his own nipples, rolling the chocolate-brown flesh between thumb and forefinger. "Now, away with those pants..." Michael smiled. Brett's faux British accent always got him. He wished they could do this forever; just be free, be the people they were on-line, not the masks society made them wear. He got to peek through his mask more often than not. Brett's mask was so demanding, people thought it was the real him.

"As my Master commands." He popped the button-fly of his jeans with his thumb, denim thumping like a bass drum as he opened it. His briefs felt like sandpaper against his aching cock. Michael just wanted to be naked and vulnerable in front of Brett. But Brett liked to watch, so Michael would give him a show. He snaked his jeans off and tugged his briefs down, showing off the top of his tight ass.

"All of it, pet. I won't have that flimsy thing on you. Do you want me to cut it off?" Michael moaned inside. Yes, he did, but that would raise too many questions. So, like a good pet, he peeled off his briefs, making sure Brett got a good, clear view of his backside. He folded his arms and rested his chin on them, keeping his back in the air so Brett could see his ballsac dangling and his cock jutting downwards.

Brett stroked himself again, dripping a little of Michael's Astroglide along his cock head and base. Gods, Brett's cock fascinated him so. Not its length, or thickness, but the way it curved almost parallel to his body. Michael's own cock swelled out almost perpendicular to his pelvis. And where his was a pale, pinkish-white, Brett's was dark, almost purple when fully erect. He pictured Brett's cock plunging into his girlfriend's dripping sex, the curve pressing his cock head up against the roof of her pussy. If it was inside him...

"I know what you're thinking, my pet," Brett said, slipping up behind him. The bed creaked under the weight. "And I quite approve. Here..." The tube of Astroglide flopped on the bed beside him. "Get yourself ready, then get on the floor and kneel against the bed."

Michael moaned, "Yes, Master" and grabbed the tube of lubricant. Brett's cock was already shiny with the stuff, most likely enough for their purposes, but he liked to watch. And Michael loved to show off for him. Running a gleaming trail of lube along his index finger, he gently massaged it into his puckered asshole, taking his time, letting Brett see how wide he could stretch it.

He glanced behind him. Brett liked the show, but he saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. The condom issue. Michael had been tested regularly, so he was clear. Brett got tested every doctor's visit and, in all honesty, had not had a partner in some time. They discussed protection on-line for a while, but Michael had convinced him they would be fine without it. He didn't want anything, not even a flimsy piece of sheepskin, getting between them.

"Wet enough, my pet?"

"Yes, Master..."

"Now, what do you want again?" he said, voice like velvet. Michael squirmed, pretending to be uncomfortable with the situation.

"I...I..."

"You?"

"I want you to fuck me, Master." Brett's laugh was like a rush of warm water over Michael's body.

"Fuck you where?"

"Fuck me in the ass. Please...please take me..."

Once, Brett had asked what it felt like to have a man's cock in his ass. A pressure, he told him. A hot pressure against your anus, spreading you, rolling you open and filling you. But it was a cheap description, inadequate and dull when facing reality. Especially the reality of finally having Brett inside him.

He knew it was the lubrication and his own supple ass, already pliant through other lovers and his own explorations with a dildo, but it felt like Brett's prick flowed into him. Michael's anus parted hungrily and rolled around the thickness, drawing it further inside. Brett pressed into him, slowly, until his pelvis slapped against Michael's ass.

Brett took his time sliding out again, the motions so deliberate, so calculated to drive him wild Michael almost bit into the bed sheets. Just as Brett almost spilled out of his ass, he thrust back inside again, spearing him. Then out. Then in. A hard, wet rhythm set to a symphony of wet squelches Michael new so well. With each penetration, Michael rocked back and forth, rotating his ass around Brett's cock.

His cock ached, surging as Brett pounded him, a droplet of precum running along the swollen head. He prayed Brett would reach around him, grasp his shaft and stroke him until he came, but his lover didn't touch him at all. Michael almost whimpered. "Brett...please..."

"No begging yet, my pet," rasped Brett through clenched teeth. "Ohh, gods...ohhh..." A shudder went through Brett's body. Michael knew that signal well and pressed his ass back against Brett's groin as his lover hit orgasm. Strings of wet cum slapped against the insides of his anus, coating him. As the rush of jism subsided, Brett's cock softened, slipping out of him.

"Master?" he said between pants. "May...may I come now?"

"On your back, pet," Brett replied, turning Michael over. They hit the mattress with a light 'whump,' throwing a wash of cool air over them, raising goose-flesh along Michael's arms. Smiling, Brett ran the hot palm of his hand against Michael's chest, playing with his nipples and his pecs. They kissed, coyly, tongues darting towards each other. Then Brett's hand slipped away, reaching for the lube. "I'm going to tell you a little fantasy of mine."

"Oh?" Michael breathed, shivering as cool lubricant touched the head of his cock. His lover nodded, running a line along the shaft, before cupping the length. Lube squelched against his palm as Brett covered the velvet skin, stroking it lengthwise.

"Yes." His palm surrounded Michael's cock head, sliding skin against skin, air crackling when trapped in between. Brett's technique was simple. No fancy twists, no odd grips. He grasped Michael's cock, keeping the head in his palm. The tips of his fingers rubbed the wide, sensitive top while his palm massaged the underside, caressing the tip with every upstroke. "I fantasize about being you..."

"But, Master..."

"Hush...lie down and relax." Michael lay back, hips tightening, trying to keep from spurting too soon. "I fantasize that I'm as handsome as you are. That I've got the talent to do what you do for a living. I dream that I'm brave enough to pierce myself and ink my skin, or believe what I believe without caring what others think." The strokes intensified but the lubricant held under the friction of Brett's tight grip.

"I've got a girlfriend," Brett continued. "She's talented, smart, outgoing and so beautiful she's a fantasy figure for people. My girlfriend is unabashedly sexual; she enjoys sex, she enjoys showing off and she has no qualms about letting me experiment. And while I may live far away from her, we're spirit-mates. She understands if I find playmates elsewhere, as long as I'm honest about it...and share, if she's interested."

Brett's other hand came into play now, cupping Michael's' balls, fingers nuzzling them through his sac while the strokes continued. Groaning, Michael squirmed under the caress, barely holding on to his seed.

"Sometimes, things get lonely. I have no one to play with, no one to talk to, and my soul mate is half a country away, unhappy at her job, depressed by the weather and working too hard at everything else. But then I remember I have friends who love me, no matter what...that they could be jealous of my luck, hate me for it, but instead find joy in just being with me for a little; in getting a contact high off my life..." Brett lowered his head to one of Michael's exposed nipples. "That is my fantasy...and I get off on it every time..." Growling, he wrapped his tongue and lips around the naked tit.

It was too much. Michael exploded. Brett stroked down, hard, tightening Michael's skin against his erection and sending the jets of cum further with each stroke. Lines of sticky white covered his chest when he dribbled the last of his seed. Brett smiled.

"Was it good?"

"It was wonderful," breathed Michael. He paused. "Do you really dream about being me?"

"Yeah. A lot." Brett toyed with the cum on Michael's chest, licking it off his fingertips like icing.

"Why? My life is just as rough as yours..."

"Yeah," said Brett. "Rougher in places. But you've got something I haven't had in a while..."

"What's that?" Michael sat up, elbows propped up on the bed.

"Hope," said Brett, sadness returning to his eyes. "Hope and love." Sighing, Michael leaned over and kissed Brett, stroking his hair.

"I can't give you hope," he said. "You have to find that yourself. But you have love, right here, right now." He rested his head against Brett's chest, who hugged him close, ignoring the drying seed. They held each other, kissed each other, drowned in each other's warmth.

Soon, the world would intrude again. Brett would go to his room, maybe write a little before his convention-duties started again. When the day closed, Brett would spend it alone. Meanwhile, he would return to his girlfriend, help her out in the dealer's room, then head back to their room to get ready for the night's parties. Time, duty and happenstance would separate them once again.

That was later, thought Michael. Right now, creation was empty except for this room. Nothing existed. Nothing but himself, his lover, and the feelings they felt. No separation could kill it and time could not fade it. Of that, Michael had no doubt.

END

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