CLOUD8

Part 22

Special thanks to Caged for contributing the love scene in this chapter.
The hospital allowed me to go home the following evening. During my stay at the hospital, Paul had not once left my side, providing distraction by telling me jokes, talking about the good memories of our ceremony and whispering promises of what we would do once I was out of the hospital bed and into ours. He was very tired and his stomach would growl loudly, but he chose to stay with me. The pain I experienced during my stay was much easier to bear with Paul's support. I didn't think it was possible to love someone more than I loved him, but those two days proved me wrong.

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I watched him sleep. One arm stretched over his head, the other resting gently across his chest. His dark hair contrasted on the white pillow, disheveled and incredibly sexy. His long fingers curled slightly, relaxed against the pillow. I'm sure I fell in love with his hands first. As he lay still, I studied his long, sensuous fingers. The small stains of paint from the last nights work. The calluses on his index finger, his paintbrushes rubbing against his hands from the way he painted furiously when he was truly taken with something. So caught up in his art, the world could easily go past him.

He was truly at his best when his mind and body were at peace. His head laying slightly to one side, his chest rising and falling evenly in his sleep. Don't get me wrong, watching him paint is possible the most erotic thing I can imagine. Watching the way he lost himself in his work. His body becoming a vessel put on this earth for the sole reason of that one masterpiece. The way he moved, it was incredible to watch. But Paul asleep was the only time his face truly matched his angelic voice.

His soft features were enchanting. His mouth, those thin lips that could express things no words could begin to, relaxed and tempting. The morning sun on his clear skin, reflecting off his bare chest, the dark stubble that always began to show at this time of day, I always found it hard to leave him alone. The temptation to wake him with a lingering kiss was one I fought every morning. Today was no different to any other.

With one exception, today the temptation was too great. Reaching over I trailed my hand over his bare chest. His smooth skin cool to touch as I circled his nipple with my index finger� watching his face, waiting for a reaction. Wanting him to wake, and yet� enjoying being able to study him as he slept, being able to take him all in completely.

Running my hand down his chest, he stirred slightly without waking. The nights had turned cool and he'd taken to wearing long cotton pants to bed. They sat low on his hips, baggy and slightly too long. Gently sliding my fingers under the elastic top of them I could feel myself growing hard.

Sliding deeper beneath the flimsy cotton, my fingers entwined with his strong dark hair. Fortunately, he never wore underwear to bed. His body was already responding to my touch, even in his sleep Paul could never resist me. His erection growing, pushing against his pants, his tip touching my index finger as I moved to take him in my grasp.

My eyes still on his face, still waiting for his reaction, smiling as his arm moves from over his head. Sliding down his chest, his fingers curling as they slide up over his shoulders and down to his now hard nipples. His tongue darting out to lick his lips making it almost impossible for me to resist taking him then and there.

Moving in closer, unable to resist temptation, I kissed his lips gently. Savouring the taste, the sensation of his cool wet lips on mine. I swear I'll never grow tired of kissing those lips.

My hand taking him firmly, gentle but firm. Moving slowly, stroking him with passion and tenderness. Still afraid of waking him, still enjoying having this incredible creature at my fingertips. His body willing, hard even in his slumber. Although I had my suspicions about his so called slumber at this point.

His mouth had curled into a slight smile, his fingers curling and clenching slightly to form a halfhearted fist on his chest. Leaning back in to kiss him again, I wasn't surprised to find him returning the kiss this time. His hand quickly, but smoothly finding it's way to the back of my head, pulling me down to kiss me deeper.

"Morning."

His voice thick and sleepy...and damn it, incredibly sexy. His eyes were barely open even as he spoke. His mouth returning to mine quickly, devouring me in a deep, probing kiss, his tongue meeting with mine with short touches before entwining deeply, pulling me into him. Tasting him so intensely, my body becoming hard against his hip.

"I do believe you're taking advantage of me, Richard."

"I do believe you're enjoying it, Paul." Arching an eyebrow at him while he nodded in response, I took him more forcefully in my hand and began to move with more rhythm. Watching his face contort in pleasure as a slow, quiet moan escaped from his moist lips.

While my hand worked him into a whirlwind of emotions, his hands began to mimic my actions. Taking me in his grasp. Those long, luscious fingers wrapping themselves tightly around my hard erection, my heart pounding in my chest as we kissed again and again. Tongues reaching out to taste each other, lips pressed on lips. His kiss was always like a doorway to heaven for me.

Tangled in each other's embrace, he gently pushed me onto my back. An evil, seductive smile playing on his lips as he mouthed the words, "my turn" before making his way down my body with his lips. Pausing between kisses to look up at me. Teasing me with his tongue as he went further and further down, his tongue on the inside of my thigh making my back arch. He had an incredible way of driving me completely insane.

I could feel his long hair caressing my erection as his head lowered to me. His mouth slowly engulfing me as his tongue guided me in, taking me completely. Looking down my body, his head, his long messy hair and my fingers trailing through it as he moved down on me. And there I was thinking I was getting the better of him this morning.

Taunting me, tasting me slowly, easing me in and out of his mouth I could barely stand it anymore. My body screaming out to be fulfilled, to come, to feel Paul take my seed and satisfy me completely. Yet at the same time, I longed to return the favour. To take him in my mouth and make him moan with every movement.

Resisting the urge to come, I linked my index finger under his chin and bought his mouth back to mine. Tasting myself on his lips, feeling my body explode at the thought of it. Slowly moving out from under his body, I watched him roll over and let my tongue drag across his back as he did so.

His back, lean and taut, his arse perfect...tight, toned and waiting. Sliding my hands beneath his hips, I pulled him to me. Listening to his breath become more ragged, a moan of impatience muffled under his breath. Smiling as I stroked him from behind slowly, his erection hard and throbbing, his body pushed back into mine. My own hard on nestled neatly against the back of his thighs.

"Oh god Rich, please."

His voice came in short, sharp, demanding tones. He wanted me, and god how I wanted him. As I gently slipped into him, feeling his body tense around my hard shaft, his cock in my hands, I could feel my orgasm coming almost immediately. Our bodies a lather of sweat, locked together. Feeling, tasting, even the scent of each other driving us insane.

We made love for what seemed like forever that morning. Mutually satisfying every whim we each desired. Pausing for moments of sheer ecstasy. Lost in a world of our own, giving to each other completely, like we hadn't before. It was so incredible to be home, and back in his arms. There was nothing that could ever come between us now. Nothing.

When we deigned to get out of bed that day, we didn't leave the apartment, and never parted from each-other's company. You could say this was our honeymoon, making love as often as our bodies could stand it and celebrating our union. For those hours at least, we were immune to the world on the other side of our apartment walls, without distraction or solicitude. We were the only company we needed.

Day turned into night. As Paul fell asleep in our bed, with the wrinkled bedsheets draped over his hips, Mandy and I occupied the kitchen. I had the radio playing faintly in the background as I sketched on a blank sheet of paper. I hadn't taken time to sit down and draw seriously for a long while - it was interesting to see if I still had the knack. Mandy occasionally sprung onto the tabletop to observe my progress, rubbing her face against my chin to tell me of her approval. During her short time with us, she had already become something like a daughter to us. If Paul and I could never have a child together, Mandy was indeed the next best thing, and since the day of her arrival she was fitting into the family nicely.

Paul and I had discussed the option of children a few times before. Fatherhood was something I'd envisioned even as a child myself, and Paul shared the same feelings. Adoption was a possibility, but for the time being we were happy with the way things were.

My sketching was interrupted by the sounds of Mandy hissing and meowing. Immediately I was concerned - I'd never heard her behave this way before. What could be wrong?

"Mandy?" I rose from the table and followed Mandy's noises, wondering what could possibly be distressing her. "Mandy, come on, sweetie, what's up?" She responded with more guttural meowing as though she was trying to alert me of a problem. As I rounded a corner, I found her blocking the path to the door. She stood motionless, continuing her hisses, while staring with contempt at something near the door.

I lifted my eyes to the door and froze, my eyes widened. There stood Tim, with alcohol on his breath, his clothes dirtied and wrinkled - and a gun in his hand, pointing it directly at me. Paralyzed with fear, I forced myself not to call for help - I knew what Tim was capable of, and I didn't want to do anything to enrage him even further. Tim's arm wobbled slightly as he pointed the gun, and his face expressed a combination of emotions - anger, frustration, fatigue and upset.

"Tim?" I asked cautiously, trying to keep my voice on an even level. "How did you get inside?"

"Shut up." He pressed the gun into the center of my forehead. "Where's Paul?"

I exhaled heavily, briefly squeezing my eyes shut. The gun felt cold against my skin. His finger was poised at the trigger - one slight movement, one wrong word, and I would be dead. I prayed that I would somehow find a way out, that Tim would not pull the trigger.

"I'll ask you one more time. Where is he?" Tim's voice rose in anger, gritting his teeth. I didn't want to answer - in doing so, I would be putting Paul at risk. I would've preferred that Tim kill me than cause any harm to Paul. But even if I told him, he would probably kill me anyway. Either way, I would not win.

"He - he's in the bedroom," I replied, my heart pounding in my chest. His mouth curled into a sinister grin and he moved his finger a centimetre away from the trigger.

"Oh, lover boy!" he called down the hallway, keeping my eyes fixed on me, watching for any sign of a getaway. His gun remained pressed against my forehead.

"He's asleep."

"Well, we'll just have to wake him up, then, won't we?" He grasped my arm and clung to it, digging his fingers in deeply. I grunted in pain. He spun me around so that my back was turned to him. "Walk."

He moved the gun so that it was pushed up against my head, showing no relent. Part of me wanted to knock him to the ground and make a quick getaway, calling for help, but my other half knew better than to fuck with Tim, especially when he was intoxicated and in possession of a gun. I had no choice but to cooperate with him and hope that no bullets would be fired. I took a step forward, then another, all the while trying not to cry out from Tim's fingers squeezing my arms strongly.

Being careful not to turn around, I said to him, my voice shaking slightly, "Tim, you don't have to do this, mate."

"Don't fucking tell me what I don't have to do!" he shouted into my ear, tightening his grip even harder on my arm. I cried out, biting my lip as the pain increased. As we walked, he moved the gun to my left temple, releasing my arm with his other hand and grabbing a handful of my hair. He pulled my head back and looked down at me menacingly. "I'm not your mate. And you're definitely not mine. Just think, a few measly centimetres and you could've been dead. It would be so easy to kill you right now, Rich." He moved his lips near my ear and whispered, "But it's not you that I'm here for." He flicked his tongue against my outer ear. I turned my head and grimaced. He simply smiled.

By now we had reached the bedroom door. I silently pleaded with Paul to wake up and do something, anything, that could lead us to an escape from this psychopath. A psychopath who had once been our friend. I felt sad that his obsession with Paul had to change him into this person that we could hardly recognize, someone so distant from the Tim we once knew.

Tim kept the gun held towards my temple and his other hand returned to my arm. The pain returned. "Open the door."

Obediently I reached for the door handle, but then hesitated, fearful of what could happen once this door was open. The thought of anyone harming Paul frightened me. All I knew was that Tim was here for Paul - but once he had him, what was he going to do with him? I didn't want to find out.

"Open it, you fucker!" Tim shouted, pressing the gun harder against my head. I had no choice - there was no escape.

"I'm sorry, Paul," I whispered as I grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.

Part 23


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