Jacob wasn’t looking for love. He didn’t even want to go out that night but, somehow, he managed to meet the man of his dreams. Naturally, that’s when everything started to go wrong.
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Laszlo is stunning, sweet, kind, and funny. He’s also Maxim Winter, rising young star of the adult entertainment industry and—though he’s honest and unrepentant from the moment they start dating—Jacob doesn’t know how to deal with his new boyfriend’s professional life. Maybe he’s going nuts. After all, sleeping with a white-hot porn star is every guy’s fantasy…isn’t it?
Caught between jealousy and desperation, Jacob needs to work out whether he can learn to live with the man he loves, or whether he’ll drive himself crazy trying.
When Jacob got to the club, he found Laszlo already loosened up: two drinks down and primed for dancing. He hugged Jacob expansively and kissed his cheek, his presence a warm glow that flooded through everything, making the entire room swell.
“I was surprised you weren’t shocked,” he yelled into Jacob’s ear. “Put off.”
Jacob shook his head, the smell of sweat and booze that now assailed him less than appealing.
Laszlo grinned at him, eyes bright and lips parted cherries. A delighted, enthusiastic kiss that tasted of rum and pineapple. It felt right, felt good, and Jacob wanted more. He caught the back of Laszlo’s head, fingers buried in that luxuriant hair, mouth pressed to his once again. So smooth, so hot, and Laszlo’s arms slipped around him, full of promise and joy.
They danced, flirted, enjoyed themselves, a sense of relaxation and celebration that chafed every ache of desire to an increased, irresistible pitch. After another couple of drinks, Laszlo turned maudlin and grew suddenly devoid of that sparkle. He pulled Jacob out through the rear exit and into the rank air of a stale alley.
“They’re laughing at me,” he said, voice rough and shoulders hunched.
“People. I see their faces. Damn…” He whirled around, launched at Jacob like a cheetah, all hands and hunger. “Take me home?”
Jacob smiled awkwardly, but his answer was already zipping straight from groin to lips without the intervention of his brain. “All right.”
Laszlo crowed happily, hands all over Jacob’s body, slipping under the hem of his shirt, fingers dancing impatiently against his skin.
He curled into Jacob’s side in the cab, pressed up close to him on the way to his apartment. Footfalls in the dark stairwell, drunken, sloppy laughter…clothes mixed up together where they fell, windblown petals or muddy raindrops.
Jacob wished he’d changed the sheets, but Laszlo didn’t seem to notice, much less care. Naked—pink and white, playing on his youth still, like in the movies, soft-shaven skin and an incongruous nine inches of velvet steel—he stood, pooled in the lamplight, arms outstretched.
“You gettin’ this for free, baby.”
Jacob laughed, pulled him to the bed. He’d had no idea what to expect from Laszlo: arrogance, expertise, a grim preparedness to plow through a preordained repertoire. With a body and a cock like that, Jacob reckoned Laszlo could almost have laid there and waited for him to pop his cork just looking. He didn’t expect the terrible freedom and openness Laszlo had about him, both shaming and exhilarating. Like there wasn’t anything he couldn’t—wouldn’t—do.
Kisses rained on kisses, tangled limbs and ardent bodies pressed tight against each other, and Jacob couldn’t get enough of him. His smell, his taste…Laszlo was more than he’d imagined, in so many ways. Gifted, capable caresses from those long, slim hands worked Jacob higher than he thought he could go without exploding. The springs in his mattress gave off crescendos of small, metallic thoinks and boinks that he was sure must be audible throughout the building.
The bedroom was dim, except for the light of a single lamp on the nightstand. It painted dramatic planes of shadow across Laszlo’s face as he pulled away to look at Jacob, his expression the terrible kind of solemnity usually seen on the very drunk.
Perhaps we are drunk.
Jacob certainly felt it. Loose, elastic, uninhibited…and hungry. There could never be enough of this to sate him.
Laszlo pressed his beautiful lips into a seductive, playful pout, that deep seriousness beginning to give way to giggles.
“You can fuck me,” he said in that strange way of his, all at once innocent and yet so knowing, so painfully honest. “If you want.”
Jacob swallowed hard, his skin hot and his cock aching, the temptation to laugh suddenly forgotten. This incredible fluid serpent, twisting before him, seemed to have come from a world that didn’t know shame or restraint. It terrified him, but he’d never wanted anything more intensely.
It wasn’t exactly coherent, but it was the best he could manage under the circumstances.
There was no baggage with Laszlo. Not even when he turned over, offering up the most beautiful ass Jacob had ever seen. Tight curves and taut peach flesh just begging to be touched. Arching his spine, a cat-like raise of his tailbone, he reached behind to spread his cheeks. His arms, shoulders, and back formed a softly rippling landscape that Jacob could happily have been lost in for hours, all topped by that dark, tousled head resting against the sheet.
Jacob was almost scared to touch him, though frightened of what he didn’t quite know. Next to Laszlo he felt inferior, as if every small imperfection was magnified one thousand-fold. But if that was true, Laszlo didn’t seem to notice it. He purred contentedly under Jacob’s caresses, hips pushing back against the pressure of his hand.
“Mm-hm…c’mon. Do it.”
Jacob hadn’t wanted it to be urgent or demanding, but he was so close already, so desperate, and Laszlo came dangerously near to pushing him over the edge with the simplest of words. He sighed contentedly as Jacob took him, and turned his head to the side, that wide mouth curled into a blissful smile. Jacob held his breath, caught between satisfaction and frustration; a pleasure more complete than he’d imagined, but also a terror of not being enough. When Laszlo closed his eyes, Jacob wanted to force them open, to be sure—somehow, by whatever means—that he was the one in Laszlo’s head, and not just part of a faceless, amorphous experience.
He lost the trail of those thoughts fast, even lost himself a little in the rhythm of their fucking.
Laszlo had a talent for topping from the bottom. Whether on his elbows and knees, or riding Jacob’s lap, he seemed to own it, and never more so when he used that sex-stained, tarnished voice of his, an irresistible, bruised purr that Jacob couldn’t defy.
“Mm…yeah. Fuck that ass!”
The dirtiest words took on some kind of new, honey-colored glow when they dropped from Laszlo’s lips. Wrists crossed loosely behind Jacob’s neck, hips and thighs setting their hardest pace yet, he gazed lazily into Jacob’s eyes.
“G’na come,” he announced, and unhooked one hand, reaching down to guide Jacob’s fingers around his shaft.
Jacob whimpered, so far past coherent or rational thought that all he could do was touch, stroke, obey…. In the first moment he’d seen Laszlo’s cock, he’d barely believed it was real. So big. Thick, too. Heavy, yet smooth, and powerful. Not what he’d expected. Not a soft, peaches-and-cream cock at all. He’d damn near choked himself trying to suck it and now, just like the rest of Laszlo, it had him completely at its mercy. Supple friction against palm and fingers, his own flesh caught deep in that hot, merciless vice.
A dark star of pleasure burned, and it just kept swelling, carrying Jacob on with it past the point of no return. He was vaguely aware of crying out, but then Laszlo let his head roll back, hair streaming and the top of his chest flushed, and he was there too, coming like a train: relentless, loud, and messy.
“Mm,” he said afterwards, that little back-of-the-throat noise of his, though colored with a great deal more happy satisfaction than Jacob had heard before.
It didn’t end there. Laszlo’s powers of recovery were surpassed only by the ability to encourage speedy recuperation in others. Before Jacob could protest, he was already on the way to being half-hard again, propelled by a spirit that was definitely willing, even if the flesh might find it hard to keep up.
Laszlo gave amazing head. That mouth was capable of everything Jacob had suspected, and then some. There was such joy to it, too, such enthusiasm and sensuality, not like Laszlo felt he was being watched, but as if there was no reason he should care even if anyone was watching. Jacob thought—before the entire frontal lobe of his brain appeared to melt into a white-hot lump of pleasure—that it was as if it was an act of worship, in its purest, simplest form. The adoration of pleasure, a rejoicing in all the possibilities and potentials of the human body, and a thankfulness for it. There was also tenderness, he was sure. He felt it in the way Laszlo touched his chest with his free hand when he pulled off sucking Jacob’s cock and, still stroking his shaft, asked:
“Mm-hm,” Jacob managed, hips giving an involuntary, needy spasm.
“Wanna see it,” Laszlo murmured, gazing at him with a languid, feline sensuality that, had Jacob been any more lucid, he might have considered to be bordering on cruel. “Come for me.”
Jacob wasn’t in a position to be churlish.