Behind the Lens
By Sean Michael
He checked the light, the reflection, and started shooting,
fascinated by the way the cream backdrop made Mr.
Narsing... Narshiper... Mr. Runner with the Longest Name
on Earth's skin glow, made it rich.
"Okay, you look great. Can I get you to lean forward so
that that light hits your shoulders? Yeah, there. Stop. Cool."
Jordan walked around, tilted a light to mute the highlights,
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and started clicking again. He'd seen this one in the park --
well, okay, he hadn't seen him, but the camera had. Four
days in a row, as a matter of fact.
Enough that Jordan knew to trust it.
He always trusted the lens; it had seen for him for fifteen
years.
"Okay. Just tell me when you need a break, otherwise I'll
just go and go."
Mr. Runner laughed. "I train for ten hours every day, I
think I can handle a bit of posing."
"Ten hours? Every day? Shit, man, you're disciplined." The
only time he ran that long was when the men with big guns
were chasing him. "Bend a little to the left, would you?"
His model did, giving him a smile, teeth brilliant in the
dark face. "Swimming, biking, running -- being on top of
my game takes work." That warm, lilting accent was
lovely.
He bent down, catching that smile. "Oh, yeah. Keep
talking, would you? Your face lights up."
Fucking stunning.
Hot.
Gonna make a beautiful image.
"I love it, yeah? The burn, the push, striving to be the best.
It's an addiction, you know? The rush of endorphins. About
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the only thing like it is really good sex." Mr. Runner
laughed.
He chuckled, nodded, mind focused on the light and skin
and catching the trail of a single drop of sweat as it caught
on a stiff nipple.
"I used to run distance in Uni. Wasn't fast enough though.
The triathlon though, that's about speed and stamina,
strategy, playing to your strengths."
"Mmm... reach up with one hand, yeah?" The runner was
perfectly built, delicious. These images would make the
man famous. Assuming art photos sold as well as the
journalistic shit, of course. "Farther. Yeah, there."
"You want me to keep talking?" The dark brown eyes
looked through the camera, straight at him.
He finished the last few frames and then dropped the
camera. "Let me change backgrounds and film. You want a
Coke, man? Or some juice?"
"Juice would be great." His model stood up and stretched
unselfconsciously, hands reaching for the ceiling, and then
bent, arms hanging loosely before being shaken out. The
lean body was pure muscle -- not too pumped, but a runner
and swimmer's build overlaid with deep caramel brown
skin.
He found a short, white terry-cloth robe and handed it over,
pulling his sweater down to cover the bulge in his jeans.
Down, boy! No lusting over the models! Even if they were
studly. "Apple, grape or tomato?"
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"Grape, thanks."
Mr. Runner -- he really had to get the guy's first name --
put on the robe. It was barely decent, no wait, when the
man turned around and he saw it from behind, it wasn't
decent at all.
"Grape. Cool. I'll run up and get you some." He took the
stairs two at a time, grabbing a package of frozen green
beans and holding it to his crotch to deflate things while he
poured juice for Mr. Runner-Off-Limits-Damn-it-Jordan
and a soda for himself.
By the time he was all poured, his fucking nuts were ice
cubes and the beans were defrosted.
Mr Runner was lounging in his chair when he went back
downstairs, that bright smile flashing at him again as he
gave the man the grape juice.
Jordan settled on the floor near his camera bag, marking a
few rolls of film and unpacking a couple more with the
experience of years. No one worked with film anymore.
Right. He loved it - the whole dark room experience. He'd
given it up for the war shots, but for this, he was film all the
way. "I really appreciate you doing this. I can't wait to run
the film."
"Not a problem, yeah? Makes a nice break from training."
He loaded the camera, standing and stretching before
heading for the backdrops. "For these last shots, I'm
thinking black and whites on a gray background, and I want
you to curl up as tight as you can -- just let the light make
lo... slide over you."
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Christ on a crutch -- he'd been out of the field for eighteen
months and his people skills weren't worth shit.
He got another one of those bright smiles and Mr. Runner
nodded and stood, letting the robe fall off his shoulders.
Jordan jumped for the string for the gray backdrop,
grabbing it easily and tugging it out and down to tie it on
the o-ring screwed into the floor. Then he pulled lights
back, the little spots forward, making a pool of light to
shoot his model from. "Go ahead and settle. I need to find
the sheer gray cloth..."
"You want me to wait until you put it down?"
"Nope. Gonna drape it over you -- add some mystery.
You've got such great lines. I'm wanting to see if they'll
read through." Gray cloth... gray cloth... Which fucking
cabinet...
"Is that it on the back of that bench there?" Mr. Runner
settled on the floor, bringing his long legs up to his chest
and wrapping around them. "Curled up like this?"
"Oh, yeah. Thanks. I need you more like..." He grabbed it
up and shook it out, moving back over to... "Do you mind if
I call you by name? It feels weird to be this formal."
Not to mention your first name better be shorter than your
last.
"No, no problem at all -- it's Ravi."
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"Ravi, cool." He helped Ravi settle on one side, carefully
moving one leg up to hide the dark curls at the groin, arms
crossed at his chest. "Yeah, just like that... let me get a
reading and I'll shoot a couple like that. God, I hope you
print half as well as you pose."
The dark eyes took on a wicked glint. "I'm sorry, mate, I'm
a runner, not a printer."
He arched as eyebrow in a perfect Dr. Spock. "Honestly,
Doctor McCoy, your outbursts are quite... irrational."
Ravi laughed, the sound rich and low.
He grinned and took a few shots, then draped Ravi with the
see-through, shimmery cloth. He tugged a ladder over,
climbing quickly and leaning over to get the angle he
needed.
"So are you doing a series on runners or nudes?" Ravi
asked.
"Athletes, mostly nude. Got a sumo wrestler, some tennis
players, weightlifter, gymnast. The body differences are
fabulous. Push out a little with your hands."
Ravi did as directed, pushing the material out a little.
"Sounds interesting -- showing or book?"
"Both -- right now I'm hoping for a book... yeah, right
there. Hold still." Clickwhirr. "Excellent. You're good at
this. Then a series of shows to introduce the book with, you
know?"
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"I'd like to see what you come up with. I appreciate the
male body."
"Yeah? It's one of my fascinations."
"Yeah? What are your others?"
Ravi had lifted his head, the fabric catching his nose and
his forehead. "Oh, stay right there. Yeah. My other whats?"
"Fascinations." Ravi's voice had changed, grown slightly
husky. Mr. Runner was flirting with him.
"Oh..." He felt himself blush, taking a few steps down the
ladder. "Fascinations -- men, photos, chocolate, blues
guitar."
"Oh, I love chocolate."
"Dark or milk?" He hopped down, tilting the lamps again.
"I love all chocolate. I believe it is my duty to sample it
all." He could hear the smile in Ravi's voice. "But a nice
dark chocolate that leaves that bitter taste in your mouth?
Have you ever kissed someone who's just sampled dark
chocolate? It's wonderful."
"No, I can't say I have." Jordan grinned, this kept up he'd be
defrosting the peas. "Up on your knees for me, reaching
up."
Ravi rolled up into position. "You should try it sometime.
It's an extremely sensual experience."
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"I'd like to. I don't find myself on the positive end of many
offers these days." He looked away, cheeks heating. "Okay,
I'm going to lay here on the floor and shoot up. Does that
make you uncomfortable?"
"Is it supposed to?" Ravi asked quietly.
"Some people find it invasive."
Ravi looked down at him for a long moment and then
nodded. "I'm not uncomfortable."
"Good. You look good. Lift your chin." He was in love
with that long line of muscle from hip to throat.
Ravi held the position for him, staring off past the gauzy
material toward the back of his studio, almost like a statue
except for the soft rise and fall of his chest and the way his
skin glowed in the light -- only something alive could glow
like that.
He finished another roll, then stood, forcing himself not to
touch, just glancing at the clock instead. An hour and a half
-- enough time to torture anyone. "I think that'll do, Ravi.
Man, I can't thank you enough; these are going to be great.
You are amazing."
Standing, Ravi removed the covering and folded it up
before handing it to him with a smile. "My pleasure, Mr.
Boon. I don't suppose you'll feed me? I'm starving and
there's a lovely Vietnamese restaurant a couple blocks from
here."
"Jordan, please." He looked up at Ravi, taking another
admiring glance. Flirting? Supper? With him? How very
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weird. How utterly unexpected. "And I would love to take
you to supper. Mekong River makes an utterly amazing dau
hu xao lan. I love it."
"Wonderful. Let me get dressed first, yeah?"
Jordan grinned, rolled his eyes playfully. "They're an open-
minded group there, Ravi, but I think they do want some
clothes on their clientele. I'm going to run up and grab my
cell and my wallet. I'll be back down by the time you're
done."
He didn't wait for an answer, just ran up the stairs and
gathered his things, stopping in the bathroom to wash his
face, run fingers through his buzzed hair, straighten his
sweater.
Dinner.
Dinner out.
With a damned fine man.
Wow.
He looked at his own silly, shining eyes and then hurried
back downstairs. No stress. Just supper. Just. No worries.
Ravi was dressed when he was downstairs, soft cream linen
pants and a white shirt with the top two buttons open.
"Shall we walk it? The sun's setting and is beautiful." He
grabbed his camera bag and threw it over his shoulder,
checking to make sure he had film.
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"Sounds great." Ravi's smile really was stunning against
that dark skin.
They walked out into the street, the breeze off the ocean
warm, the sun glowing a soft pink. Mekong River was
literally only a few blocks and the walk quick, Ravi's long
legs easily keeping up with his naturally frenetic pace.
"So, tell me about yourself, Ravi. How long have you been
here?"
"About four years or so. I went to Hawaii from England,
when I was dropped from the British Olympic team, to lick
my wounds, and while there I discovered the triathalon. It
was love at first sight."
"Hawaii or the triathalon?" He winked up, both of them
turning down 18th Street towards restaurant row.
"Yes," answered Ravi, winking back.
"What about you Jordan? Your name has a familiar ring to
it, but I'm not placing it."
"I'm a photographer. Grew up in Kansas City, went to
school in Dallas for a few years, then started going out on
assignment." He grinned and shrugged. "I've covered lots
of stuff -- I'm not attached to any one publication, so I show
up here and there."
"Of course! You've covered a lot of hard news."
Jordan nodded. Oh, yeah. Lots. "I have. I'm on sabbatical."
"To put together a book."
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Jordan blushed dark and opened the restaurant door, taking
a seat far in the back. "Yes, in part. I... I needed some time,
some time away from the action. So I'm working on the
book and trying to live a little bit of a regular life before I
end up heading off again."
Ravi's eyes danced wickedly. "I don't know, Jordan...
taking nude photos of men isn't what most people would
call a regular life."
"Ravi, for most people, that's a fantasy." He grinned and
ordered green tea. "Besides, not all of the people in the
book are male. Just the best-looking ones."
Ravi laughed again, the sound deep and musical, genuine
and happy sounding.
He relaxed, leaning against the chair. "You have a great
smile, Ravi. So bright, man."
"Thank you." Ravi took a sip of water. "When I was a boy,
my grandmother lived with us, and she used to sit me on
her knee and tell me how important it was to smile and
laugh, that a man's true worth could be judged in the lines
on his face and a man with laugh lines was always worth
more."
Jordan chuckled. "I like that. Your smile is wonderful. She
must be proud."
"I don't know -- she's been dead for a long time now. She
was a very old woman, even when I was very little. I can
remember hearing the story and paying attention to her
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smile and being spooked by the fact that she only had three
teeth."
"Oh! My grandfather used to terrify me when he took out
his dentures!" They continued sharing stories as the wait
staff worked around them, enough laughter and snorts to
light the dark corner of the restaurant.
When their plates had been removed, Ravi took a sip of his
water and sat back, brown eyes holding him in their gaze.
"So when did you know you were gay?"
"When I was in junior high, I guess. I took yearbook in the
seventh grade and used to moon over the jocks in the
darkroom. I didn't come out until the senior prom, though.
Brought my boyfriend, who was in college. We both got
quickly thrown out and spent the night dancing in the city
park to his car radio." He grinned. Lenny'd been a good
man, a perfect first lover. "How about you?"
Ravi grinned. "Well, I went to an all boy boarding school in
England from about eight on. Let's just say that a lot of the
rumors about what goes on in British boarding schools is
true." Ravi shrugged. "When we had a chance to play with
girls, I was never interested. I think I had started uni before
I realized it meant I was gay."
"Boarding school? Interesting! Did you like it?" He
couldn't imagine -- hell, it had always been just him and
Mom and a few cats, just showing up at college had been
complete culture shock.
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"Not at first, no. I missed my family -- especially my nanny
-- and I missed the warm weather and being important in
my circle of friends. I was very lonely at first."
"You were so young, too." Jordan shook his head, then
grinned. Still he'd seen eight year olds married, enslaved,
made into soldiers, addicts, human bombs -- boarding
school wasn't a deathcamp. "I imagine you have a book's
worth of stories about your time there."
"I suppose I do," chuckled Ravi. "Maybe I need a
ghostwriter. After all, I need something to fall back on
when my legs give out."
"Those legs? Man, I've seen some good ones, the
youngsters won't be calling you "Coach" for years."
Ravi smiled and inclined his head, accepting the
compliment. "Would this be a good time to ask you what
you're doing for the rest of the evening?"
"I..." He tilted his head, surprised. It had been a long time
since anyone asked, a long time since he'd been out with
someone who wasn't his therapist or his agent or some
executive trying to get him to go to the Middle East. "Yes,
actually, it would be a perfect time."
"Wonderful." This time that brilliant smile was directed,
not just at him, but to him.
"I was just going to flip channels and drink coffee." He met
Ravi's eyes. "Do you have anything more entertaining in
mind?"
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"I was wondering if you might not want a look without the
camera as mediator. And I would like to do some looking
of my own."
"Do you mind me asking why? I mean... you're a fine-
looking man, beautiful, no question, and you live in a city
of beautiful people. Why choose me?" The question was as
honest and non-self-deprecating as he could make it. He
was short and small and easily missed. He wasn't ashamed
of it -- hell, the fact that he could slide into places
unnoticed had made his career, his life -- but still, he was
curious.
"Have you ever talked to any of those beautiful people,
Jordan? How many of them have anything but their own
beauty in their heads? How many of them care about
anything outside of their very small sphere of interest?
Very few." Ravi shrugged. "You're an intriguing man and
you don't see things the same way every Tom, Dick and
Harry do. You interest me, Jordan Boon, and I haven't been
interested on more than just a physical level in a long
time."
"Oh." He looked down at his hands, slowly folding and
unfolding the cloth napkin. "That was a hell of an answer,
Ravi. Come on, let's go and see if I can hold your interest a
little bit longer."
"I have a feeling you can hold it for quite awhile, Jordan."
Ravi gave the waiter his credit card.
"Hey, hold on! I was buying supper." He switched cards
with a quick motion of hands, sending the waiter on his
way.
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"But I asked... no wait -- you're right." Ravi grinned.
"Thank you for supper."
Jordan flipped Ravi's card over his fingers and handed it
over. "Thank you. I've enjoyed your company."
"And I've enjoyed yours." Ravi's card disappeared back
into his wallet. "A good omen for the rest of the evening,
wouldn't you say?"
He nodded, signing the receipt and standing. "Where to?
Dessert? Movie? Grab a beer? Back to my place?" Dear
God, this was ridiculous. He was... And he didn't... Not
usually. Ridiculous.
"I chose dinner, you can choose this." Ravi winked at him.
"I'm easy."
He stuck his tongue out at Ravi playfully. "How do you
feel about grabbing Italian ices on the way back to my
place? We can sit and talk. Or whatever."
That wicked twinkle was back in Ravi's eyes. "Or
whatever."
He rolled his eyes and bumped Ravi's thigh with his hip.
"Come on, O' easy one. I'm hankering for a lemon ice." He
looked back and chuckled, flirting shamelessly. "You can
have whatever."
"Oh, I like my whatever flavored with lemon ice."
Ravi was flirting back, just as shamelessly, eyes warm.
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God, he hadn't laughed so much in years, his quiet chuckles
mingling with Ravi's warm ones. They managed to make it
to the little cart before it headed farther down the street.
"What flavor, Ravi?"
"I think chocolate."
"Oh. Do you have chocolate?" The man nodded, squirting
chocolate syrup over the ice and handing it to Ravi. He
watched Ravi lick at it, remembering their earlier
conversation about kissing and chocolate. Oh. Surely he
had some dark chocolate at home...
Ravi's eyes watched him over the top of his ice, growing
warm as if the man could read the direction his thoughts
had taken.
He blushed dark and tilted his head towards his apartment
building. "Shall we?"
God, he was acting like a kid.
"Are you not having one after all?" Ravi asked him.
"Oh! Yeah. Christ, but you're distracting." He turned back
to the vendor and ordered a lemon ice, incredibly tempted
to just shove it down his pants so he'd stop making an utter
ass out of himself.
Ravi chuckled softly, and once he had his ice as well,
Ravi's arm slid across his shoulders and he was gently
turned back in the direction of his apartment.
"I'd say I'm normally not so ridiculous, but I'm not
completely sure it's true." Jordan grinned sheepishly. "My
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typical interpersonal relationships usually start a little
differently, you know?"
"Yes? Tell me, Jordan, how would your typical
interpersonal relationship usually start?"
"Usually? Under gunfire, or as we're hiding on the back of
some rickety pickup. Not much need for remembering if
you've ordered your own dessert then, you know?"
"No, I don't suppose there would be." Ravi remained quiet
after that, walking quietly beside him, arm still looped
around his shoulders.
Jordan finished about half his ice, then tossed it, a sick
feeling in the pit of his stomach letting him know that he'd
just blown it. Again. Maybe his agent was right, maybe he
was meant to live in the middle of a firing range "Look, I'm
sorry, Ravi. I... I'm no good at this normal thing. If you
don't feel like coming up, I get it. No hard feelings."
"What? Look, if I'd realized it was a sore point I wouldn't
have brought it up, but surely just because we have
different life experiences that's no reason to part now?"
Ravi gave him a soft smile. "The differences are a part of
the appeal, yeah?"
"Oh. It's not a... I just thought..." He took a deep breath. "It
bothers people, the things I've seen. Hell, sometimes it
bothers me. I'd love for you to come up, Ravi. Very much."
"Good, because I would still like to. Come. Up, I mean, I'd
like to come up." Ravi chuckled at himself.
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Jordan finally just relaxed, letting his laughter blend with
Ravi's as they went in. "You've seen the studio. I live on the
upper two floors. Come on and I'll give you the tour."
He led Ravi up the long staircase, the walls covered with
his favorite prints, his most famous ones. "There's a tiny
bathroom up here and then the red door's the one to my
house."
"I remember most of these," Ravi said quietly, examining
the pictures closely. "It should bother people -- the things
you've seen, I mean, that they happened. Still that's no
reason to shoot the messenger, is it?"
His hand went to his chest, the star-shaped scar noticeable
to his fingers. "That depends on who's shooting, I imagine.
Come on in."
His apartment was odd and long, with the bathroom and
kitchen almost niches in the world's longest living area.
Still, it was beautiful, all white except for the periodic burst
of color -- a violet chair here, a maroon divan there. White
flowers graced a dozen brightly colored vases and the
setting sun cast the ghost of a rainbow across the carpet.
"Oh, this is nice," Ravi told him, wandering around the
space, stopping here and there to run long fingers over the
divan or to bend and smell the flowers. "It's different,
unique and interesting. Like its owner."
"Thank you. Would you like to see the top floor? There's a
lovely view of the city."
Ravi gave him a warm smile. "I'd love to."
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The upstairs was magical, the walls all covered with huge
prints, making up the world as you turned. Kites and
airplanes hung from the ceiling, his clothes and books and
personal things hidden away in recessed closets. The
French doors opened onto a good-sized balcony, with a
lovely view.
"Wow, Jordan. This is... wow." Ravi slowly circled the
room, eyes taking everything in.
"Thank you." He touched the hidden door that opened to
the bathroom. "It's a nice little hideaway."
"Oh, that's a neat trick. What else is hidden away?"
"Clothes, books, more books. Odds and ends from other
countries that the designer didn't see working up here."
"Oh, I was right, Jordan -- you are a very interesting man."
He chuckled and closed the bathroom door again. "Yes?
I'm just your average photographer. You are a beautiful,
charming athlete. I think you definitely win on the
interesting scale."
"In my world there's a beautiful charming athlete for every
line you care to cast out." Ravi chuckled. "How about we
agree that we each find the other interesting? It would be a
place to start -- something we have in common. Aside from
the being male and being gay thing, of course."
"And we both like green tea and chocolate." He took a step
toward Ravi, tilting his head.
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"Indeed. Not to mention we appreciate a good Vietnamese
meal -- especially when shared with interesting company."
Ravi slid a hand along his cheek. "Maybe we aren't so
different after all, Jordan Boon."
Ravi bent slowly, giving him all the time in the world to
step away or turn his head. Jordan just lifted his chin,
making everything easier. He wasn't going to miss this kiss
for the world. Ravi's lips pressed against his, the kiss chaste
for the space of several heartbeats, and then Ravi's mouth
opened.
"Oh..." His lips parted on a moan, tongue sliding out to
sample the hint of chocolate, the sweetness of plum sauce,
the rich spice of Ravi.
Ravi's lips closed over his tongue, sucking it lightly into the
warm mouth. One hand continued to cup his cheek, Ravi's
other sliding down his back to settle warmly in the small of
his back. His hands landed on the firm belly, fingers
trailing that line, that beautiful fucking line of muscles
while Ravi simply made him melt, made him need. Ravi let
go of his tongue and followed it back into his mouth,
licking softly inside. Soft murmurs, almost a hum, joined
the tongue in his mouth. Jordan didn't close his eyes; he
just watched, sensations filling him. Their tongues slid
together, locked lips trapped the moans and purrs between
them.
Ravi didn't push or pull him close, though he could feel the
heat pouring from Ravi's body. It was just a kiss. A long,
exploratory, breath-stealing kiss.
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By the time Ravi stood, their lips parting reluctantly,
Jordan's head was spinning and they were both panting and
flushed. "Wow."
"You have a talent for understatement, Jordan Boon."
Ravi gave him another of those beautiful smiles, looking
down at him. "You were right, the view here is lovely."
"You haven't even... Oh." He blushed and dropped his arm,
which was already pointing to the balcony. "Flatterer."
Ravi's thumb stroked his cheek. "Is it still flattery if it's
true?"
"I don't know. We'll look it up later." He nestled into Ravi's
touch. "Did we really just meet?"
"In this lifetime, yes." Ravi's fingers slowly caressed his
back through his shirt.
That somehow made sense -- or at least it echoed in that
deep way that he understood, that he knew as real and right
and unavoidable. He took another half step forward, letting
their bodies touch.
"Oh."
Ravi's eyes closed for a moment, body still, breathing
deeply. Then the brown eyes opened again, blazing down at
him. "I want to kiss you again."
"Please." He reached up, let his arms wrap around Ravi's
neck, holding on.
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The hand at his back pulled him a little closer, the one
cupping his cheek angled his head just so and then Ravi's
lips closed over his again. This kiss held none of the
tentative exploration of the first one, instead it was eager,
deep.
Jordan met it with an equal hunger, mouth opening wide to
encourage that wicked tongue to explore, to taste. His
fingers danced over the skin at Ravi's nape, over the dark
curls, petting and stroking. The proof of Ravi's desire
burned against his belly, their clothes no impediment to its
heat. With a slight shift, one of Ravi's legs pressed between
his. He rocked against Ravi's thigh, belly rubbing that stiff
cock. Oh, he wanted. He wanted so badly, so suddenly.
Ravi made a noise, pulling him closer as the kiss grew
deeper, needier.
He dropped one hand, sliding it under Ravi's shirt to touch,
to feel that line, to know that long line of skin.
"Jordan. Please. Is there somewhere we can... do this not
standing up?"
He rested his head on Ravi's shoulder, catching his breath.
"I... My bed is small." He nodded over what looked like a
pile of bedlinens on the floor in one corner. His fingers got
busy, tracing Ravi's navel, ribcage.
Ravi chuckled, chin sliding over his head. "Have you ever
made out in a dorm room bed? I just want to sit or lie down
before I fall down and shatter your illusions."
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"Come sit. It's soft." It was soft and cushioned like a nest,
cradling him when he slept. Four feather beds stacked
together, blankets and pillows mounded atop.
Ravi seemed huge sitting on his bed, but at the same time...
Ravi looked good. A dark hand patted the bed. "It won't be
any fun unless you join me."
He nodded, grinned, and carefully crawled up beside, the
bed dipping and pressing them together. "Oh. Hi."
"Hi," murmured Ravi with a smile, hands sliding beneath
his shirt, so warm against his skin.
Jordan reached out, fingers stroking again, finding a home
along those firm muscles.
Ravi took a long shuddering breath. "This would be better
without clothes, yes?"
Without waiting for an answer, Ravi pulled his shirt up
over his head. He had to fight not to cover the scars -- and
there were enough of them, enough to have earned him the
title of 'Chronicler of War.' Between clumsy field stitches,
gunshot wounds, eight months of hell... he wasn't ever
going to be unmarked.
Ravi's eyes traveled over them first, and then his hands,
fingers gentle, exploring. Then Ravi bent and kissed each
scar softly before bringing their mouths together.
He melted, completely lost, fingers clumsy as they worked
the pale shirt open. Ravi helped, shrugging off the shirt
once it was undone and then falling back onto the bed,
bringing him down against warm, smooth skin.
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"Oh... Feels good." He whispered the words into Ravi's
lips, humming at the delicious feeling of desire, of skin
kissing skin.
"It does," agreed Ravi, hands sliding along his back, long
fingers exploring.
He arched, rocking down against Ravi, heat teasing heat.
"Oh..."
Bending for a taste, Jordan licked the long line of Ravi's
throat. Gasping, Ravi tilted his head back, giving him easier
access. Those long fingers slid beneath his waistband,
teasing the top of his ass. He hummed, lips mapping the
soft skin, finding each and every bundle of nerves and
awakening them. Ravi jerked, hips pushing up into him.
His name was whispered on the softly accented voice.
Groaning, lips vibrating against Ravi's skin, Jordan started
working down, headed from collarbone to nipple. Ravi
rocked up against him, bringing their bodies together,
gasping and groaning.
He fastened around the hard nipple, sucking hard, pulling
fiercely.
"Jordan! Oh!" Ravi's hands slid further into his pants,
cupped his ass hard, pulled them harder together.
Whimpering, he flicked his tongue over the hard tip,
rubbed it again and again.
Ravi's hands dug into his ass, movements growing harder,
more desperate.
A Torquere Press Sip - 24
He lifted his head. "Pants. Skin. Fuck, Ravi. Want you."
"Yes." Ravi's hands slid away from his ass, moving
between them to open his jeans.
He worked off Ravi's belt, opened the waistband, fingers
desperate for skin. Ravi worked his pants down, helped him
get Ravi's pants pushed down far enough that their cocks
slid together.
"Oh, God!" Jordan's eyes popped open, such heat! Such
beautiful heat! His mouth dropped, searching for skin.
Ravi bent, mouth finding his as long-fingered hands
grabbed his ass again, bringing them together again and
again.
It didn't take long until he was crying out, heat spraying
between them. "Oh... Oh, Ravi. Oh..."
"Amar!" Humping up hard against him, Ravi called out and
more heat spread between them, the smell of sex heavy in
the air.
He buried his face against Ravi's throat, letting his breath
slow, letting himself recover. Ravi's legs cradled him,
warm hands sliding over his skin in random patterns.
He hummed, nuzzling the soft skin. "Wow."
Ravi chuckled, the sound husky and wanton. "You have a
talent for understatement, Jordan Boon," Ravi whispered.
A Torquere Press Sip - 25
Jordan nodded. "And you have a talent for making me feel
special."
Ravi tugged, bringing their mouths up together for a long,
slow kiss.
Jordan relaxed, bones just melting. "So, Ravi... Tell me...
Would this be a good time to ask what your plans are for
the rest of the evening?"
Ravi chuckled, the sound breathing into his mouth. "Oh
yes, Jordan. This would be the perfect time."
A Torquere Press Sip - 26
Behind the Lens
Copyright © 2008 by Sean Michael
All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles or reviews. For information address
Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX
78680
Printed in the United States of America.
Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / January 2009
Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press,
Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680
A Torquere Press Sip - 27