Saving Mr. Bell

Chapter Thirteen

Rudolf

This was nice. More than nice. A warm, cozy cabin; nobody around for miles; no phone reception equalling zero interruptions—thank God I hadn’t thought to take my phone to the top of the hill when we’d gone sledging because what if I’d gotten a reception?—and, last but not least, a handsome documentary maker giving me a very unexpected but hugely enjoyable foot massage. I was greedy and wanted more, though. I wanted the bubble of intimacy to continue to its natural conclusion. Not because I was a sex addict, or because I was used to getting my own way when it came to sex, but because I liked Arlo and found him attractive, and I didn’t want to squander the opportunity for this experience—no matter how unorthodox its origins—to be all it could be.

Arlo was still massaging my feet, his teeth digging into his bottom lip in an endearing fashion as he focused on his task. I let out another moan as he dug his thumb into the insole of my foot, this one deliberate. I grinned when Arlo gave a slight shake of his head, but didn’t comment. I might have believed his annoyance if it wasn’t for the swelling under the heel of the foot not being massaged.

I moved that foot slightly, rubbing my heel against the length of him, Arlo’s sharp indrawn breath music to my ears. “Oops, sorry,” I lied.

Arlo lifted his head to glare at me. “You’re a menace.”

“I am. You should… I don’t know, tire me out or something.” Another headshake. “What are you scared of?” I was genuinely interested in Arlo’s answer. After the kisses he’d instigated in the snow, I’d assumed we were on the same page, that he’d given in to the inevitability of what would happen. But it was two steps forward and one step back with Arlo. Although, he surely had to realize the mixed messages he was giving with the foot massage.

“I’m not scared. I’m just trying to be the sensible one.”

“Sensible!” I gave the word the contempt it deserved. “Call me judgmental, but I think you threw away any illusions of being sensible when you hatched your plan to rescue me.”

Arlo snorted. “I thought you were going to say when I got married in Vegas to someone I’d only been seeing for a couple of weeks.”

“That as well. There you go. You’ve got form.”

“ That does not make me feel any better.”

With the foot massage apparently having reached its conclusion, I hoisted myself higher against the sofa arm. High enough that I could wriggle out of my T-shirt and drop it on the floor.

Arlo followed its progress and continued to stare at it. “We need to do some laundry tomorrow.”

“Yep. Laundry. That’s what I like men thinking about while I’m stripping off.” I lowered my hands to the waistband of my sweatpants and wriggled out of those too.

“With two people sharing clothes, we’re going through them quickly.”

I lay back in just a pair of Arlo’s black briefs. “Can you do anything else with that massage oil?”

The request got through to him, Arlo dragging his gaze away from the discarded T-shirt and directing it my way instead. I waggled my eyebrows suggestively at him as he raked his gaze over me, unmistakable heat flaring in his eyes as he studied me. “You want a massage?”

“Yeah. I do.”

His gaze lingered on my crotch, my cock tenting the front of the briefs. “We need towels. I rented this place. I can’t cover the sofa in oil.”

I was off the sofa in a flash to fetch some. In the spirit of optimism, I took a detour to get condoms and lube from the jeans I’d been wearing when I’d arrived.

Thank God, Arlo had snatched me from a nightclub. Anywhere else and I might not have had them on me. In retrospect, I was thankful I hadn’t used them on a sexual experience that would have paled in comparison to the man waiting on the sofa.

Arlo stood when I arrived back, taking the towels from me and arranging them so they covered the entire sofa. I took advantage of his distraction to stash the condoms and lube down the side of the sofa cushions. They weren’t a secret, but why risk spooking him if I didn’t have to? “You should… er… strip as well,” I said with a slight smirk. “You know, because of that clothes shortage you were talking about. No point in getting oil all over them if you can avoid it.”

My smile grew when he followed my instruction without argument. Ah, so that was the key with him, was it? Dressing everything up as a practical consideration. I’d have to remember that. I lay back on the sofa as Arlo stripped to his underwear. He did a double take when he finally looked up. “You’re the wrong way round.”

I interlocked my fingers behind my head and gave a deliberate stretch. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

“You’re a—”

“A menace, I know.”

He straddled my calves, the heat of his bare thighs fiery against my skin. He was as hard as I was, the rigid line of his cock clearly visible through his briefs. My fingers itched to reach out and trace it, to rub my thumb over the tip and see if I could tease out some moisture, but I needed to be patient, to reel him in bit by bit. First came getting his hands on me. Then, I’d play it by ear. I had a plan, but it needed to be a flexible one. And although my endgame was to get that delectable cock inside me, I wouldn’t use that as my only yardstick for success. There were hundreds of things we could do that didn’t include penetration. Hundreds of extremely pleasurable things. Fucking was plan A, but I had plans for Arlo all the way to Z.

“I wasn’t going to say a menace this time.”

“What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say a tease.” Arlo upended the bottle of oil and dripped a thin stream of it onto my chest.

“A tease promises things they have no intention of delivering. I’m happy to deliver. I’m so happy to deliver you could call me the postman.”

Arlo’s lips twitched. “Rudolf Good King Wenceslas The Postman Bell. Got it.”

My response froze on my tongue as he flattened his palms against my chest and massaged the oil in. While he concentrated on moving his hands in circular strokes over my skin, I watched him, drinking in his dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. I lasted a minute before surging up to capture his lips, Arlo not taken so much by surprise that he didn’t kiss me back. We were both panting by the time the kiss ended. “You never wanted a massage, did you?” he asked, his voice husky.

I maneuvered myself into a different position, one that let my thighs fall open, Arlo settling between them and our hard cocks pressing together. “Not really.”

Arlo rested his forehead against mine, his breathing ragged. “I’m so hard.”

“I know. I can feel.”

“I want…”

“Whatever you want, you can have.”

He laughed. “What if I was about to say I wanted you to wear a pig mask and oink?”

I stroked my fingers over his back, tracing the firm musculature. “Darling, if you can find a pig mask in this place, I’ll try it, if that’s what does it for you.”

His eyes were shining with mirth when he lifted his head. “What about a cow one?”

“Moooo.”

“How did I ever think I could resist you?”

I pulled him down for another kiss. “I like the way you just used past tense. Does that mean we can stop pretending this isn’t going to happen? We’re going to be stuck here together for at least a few more days.” Longer, hopefully. “Why shouldn’t we enjoy ourselves?” Arlo’s silence said there was at least one reason, but that he wasn’t prepared to verbalize it. Instead, he lifted my right arm over my head and dropped a kiss in my armpit that tickled enough for me to crease up. I stopped laughing when his fingers trailed down my body to hook in the waistband of my briefs. He tugged gently, dropping a kiss on the bare hipbone he uncovered. My cock throbbed as he did the same with the other side, the tender gesture hotter than it had any right to be.

I held my breath as both hands came into play, the action of pulling my briefs down so slow that I held my breath. We both laughed as my cock popped out like it was a jack-in-the-box. And then there was only Arlo staring at it. Nerves had me breaking the silence. “I’ve had no complaints.”

“Shhh…”

I shushed, lying back against the sofa arm and letting him look his fill. I was fully hard, my cock standing to attention. When his lips finally slid over the tip and his tongue explored its contours, I bucked up. There was nowhere to go, though, Arlo’s powerful hands holding me down while he took me deeper. Which left only one outlet for communicating how good it felt: moans and random words. I indulged in both while he sucked me.

It was impossible not to watch him as he pleasured me, my brain drinking in the hollowing of his cheeks and the hair that fell over his brow. I’d found him handsome when I was seventeen, but now, he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Definitely the most gorgeous that had ever blown me, and I thanked whatever gods had brought us to this point.

My chest was rising and falling rapidly by the time he released my cock and sat back to stare at me again. Now what? I didn’t ask out loud in case he changed his mind. Instead, I waited, the damp spot on the front of his briefs showing that blowing me had aroused him almost as much as it had me. When he reached past me to delve down the side of the sofa cushion and plucked out the condom and lube, I laughed. “I thought I’d been stealthy.”

“I’m not sure you could be stealthy if you tried.” He toyed with the condom for a few seconds. “Is this really what you want? I can finish you with my mouth. We don’t have to—”

“Do you want me to beg? Please, Arlo. Please fuck me. Blow jobs are nice. More than nice the way you give them. But what I want, what I really want…” I slid my hand over the bulge tenting Arlo’s underwear, cupping it when he didn’t protest and feeling the length of him. “… is you inside me. Fucking me. Rubbing over my prostate. Going deep. Making me see stars.”

Arlo let out a groan and pressed his forehead against mine again. “Stop! You’re going to make me come.”

With words? Interesting. “Better get that condom on, then.”

He held his hands up, his palms glistening. “Oily. Unless you’re willing to wait while I wash my hands…”

And give him time to think better of it. Like hell I was. I snatched the condom off him and ripped it open with my teeth. “Get your pants off!”

“The way you say it is so romantic.” Despite his mockery, he did it, the cock revealed as he maneuvered his way out of them, making my mouth water. He let out a hissed breath as I rolled the condom down his length and added a generous amount of lube. “I guess I’ll have to do this myself, then?” This was me fingering myself, Arlo watching intently as I gave myself first one finger and then two. I wasn’t used to putting on a show, my cheeks heating.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he said as I writhed on them, stimulation of my prostate forcing a few drops of pre-cum to bead on the tip of my cock. I might have spent longer on it, but Arlo ran out of patience before I did, grabbing my wrist and pushing my hand to the side as he crouched between my thighs.

“Yeah, fuck me,” I begged as he moved into position. Despite the fingering, the stretch as he breached me was enough to have me letting out a sharp breath. When he backed off, I grabbed him, wrapping my hands around his muscular arse cheeks and holding him in place. “Don’t you dare!”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

And he didn’t, giving me shallow thrusts until I grew accustomed to him. When he slid in completely, I let out a sigh of satisfaction. “So good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His first set of thrusts were long and luxurious, neither of us in a rush now we’d reached this point. The sound of snow falling off the roof had me turning my head to the window, neither of us having drawn the curtains when we didn’t have neighbors. “It’s snowing again,” I said with a smile.

Whether it was because Arlo didn’t understand why that pleased me so much, or because he had far more interesting things on his mind as he again sank his cock into me, he didn’t offer a response. Perhaps he thought I always provided a weather forecast while getting fucked, the thought threatening to make me laugh.

Eager to speed things up, I drew my hips up, wrapping my calves around Arlo’s muscular back. He took the hint, picking up the tempo to fuck me harder.

Pleasure zinged along my nerve endings and I gave myself up to it, riding the edge of desperately wanting to come while also wanting it to last. Arlo seemed to feel the same, his thrusts slowing before he seemed to lose himself to the animalistic pleasure once more. We rode that knife edge as long as we could until it became more torturous than pleasurable. It only took a few strokes once I wrapped my hand around my cock to come, Arlo following me over the brink with one last deep thrust a minute or two later.

We kissed lazily until Arlo’s shrinking cock forced him to deal with the condom. I watched as he rose from the sofa to get rid of it in the kitchen bin, admiring the long lean lines of his body. “Will you share the bed with me now?”

He was laughing when he turned back to face me, giving me the same scrutiny as I’d given him as I lay sprawled across the sofa. “Do you think we’ll get any sleep?”

“Do you think that matters? It’s not like either of us has a jam-packed schedule tomorrow. The snow won’t melt overnight.” Thank God.

“True.” Arlo reached up to do a triceps stretch. First one side and then the other. “Christ! I feel like I’ve been through a meat grinder.”

“No one’s ever described fucking me like that before.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was thinking more of the sledging, as you very well know.” He came to stand by the side of the sofa. “Yes, I will share a bed with you, Rudolf.” He held out his hand. “After we’ve had a shower.”

I took his hand and let him pull me upright, the faint twinge in my arse making me feel like a man who’d been well fucked. Funny that. “Now, you’ll share a shower with me. Everything has to be on your terms, doesn’t it?”

Arlo laughed at the outlandish statement, just as I’d known he would. “Oh yeah, it’s all me, me, me.”

We were both still laughing by the time the shower had warmed enough for us to step in. Arlo decided I needed help to scrub the oil off my chest, him touching me, leading to more, until I was on my knees beneath the spray of water, coaxing Arlo back to hardness. It took a while, allowing for a perfect opportunity for me to call him an old man again. But it was worth it for the intensity of Arlo’s second orgasm. By which time I was hard again, Arlo returning the favor.

I couldn’t have said how late it was before we eventually tumbled into bed together, but after two orgasms and the energetic day we’d had, there was no conversation, both of us asleep as soon as our heads touched the pillow.