August and Anderson
by Sebastian Blade
all rights reserved
The food drive had been his idea. Saint Sarah's had a firm budget, laid out by all the donations they had received so far, and there wasn't room for much else. The kids had a soccer team. The league required new uniforms. Resources to get said uniforms had dried up. Corey didn't have the money to buy five hundred dollars worth of soccer uniforms. He already worked for the school three days a week without pay. It made sense to him though, that if he could raise the money for food, which people would help with, money could be diverted to soccer uniforms.
Okay, maybe not the most strictly ethical thing he'd ever thought up. There was the slightest bit of guilt about it.
It had been beautiful day and he didn't have school work or other responsibilities. The sky was blue like summer would never end. Smiling happy people kept wandering by and he'd raised more than half of what he needed, in cash, no less. Sitting on the back of a battered truck, wearing jeans cut off at the shins, sandals, and a 'Jesus Loves Everyone' tee-shirt, he didn't think anything could make him happier.
His hair was a little longer, but just as brilliantly red, bronze where the sun caressed him. Freckles dotted his cheeks and nose. Deep emerald eyes scanned the passing people, looking for the right call to action. People wanted to help other people. Getting them to do that made their lives better! "Hey! We're trying to get food for St. Mary's!"
"I only got sandwiches," the guy he'd called out to said, waving him off.
"Give us a dollar then," Corey rebutted as he jumped down, following the guy a couple of steps into the park. "You were made to help people."
"That is the daftest thing I've ever heard," a voice said in his ear, a deep and sweetly layered voice.
Corey froze, a shiver whispered over his shoulders, the whole world falling away as he analyzed just why that voice was so beautiful. Like a Gregorian chant, deep and mysterious, but nuanced like Mozart, and he drew breath to respond, but quiet held him, just in case the voice spoke again. Quite suddenly the grass was greener, the sky bluer, and Corey felt a rush of the strangest emotion he'd ever felt. A whole history, his whole life spent trying to be a good and heroic enough to be worth his own life, to live for his Lord, for the good of others, all of this history blossomed into breathless hunger.
"Well? What good is a dollar going to do for you?" The voice asked, breath so close ot his ear that Corey could feel the warmth, the very life of the other man.
"Helping," he started to explain, to, to explain, that it was important for, but he turned and found himself looking up into hazel eyes that were gold and chocolate and a little bit of forest green. The man was slightly taller with chocolate hair neatly trimmed, a gentle, but so confident smile. Fluttery confusion filled Corey's throat, unknown and strangely sweet emotion filled his whole being. "He-hello."
"I'm August Richards V. And you might be?"
"Uh," Corey said, then unconsciously bit his lower lip. He'd barged into a Cardinal's office once. He'd demanded things from people. He was on the debate team. He stood up to bullies. He had come in first two years running in the all state long distance competition. He wasn't shy. "I'm Corey Anderson. I'm going to be a priest," he said, as if that made all the difference and summed him up rather well.
"No, you're not," August said. Just like that, for no reason more than the birds had for flocking in the spring, the powerful brunet wrapped his arms around the pretty red headed runner and pulled him close, bodies pressed intimately close together, neither had any doubt about the other's physical attraction. August leaned just a little, pressed Cory's first kiss home with overwhelming prejudice. Harming every fiber of the would-be-priest's understanding of the world. He took his mouth, teasing his tongue into dancing and responding, leaving not the slightest touch of virginity to claim innocence. For Corey's part, he rushed back, a roaring wave pushing back at the shore, clinging and sinking into the clean linen scented would-be-lawyer.
Shaking, as the kiss slowly became the twilight of the kiss, Corey stared up at this beautiful man. "I've never kissed anyone before."
August grinned, victorious. "It's about time. Do you know how cute your ass is in those little running shorts? What are you doing out here?"
"Raising money. I coach the soccer team at Saint Sarah's and we need new soccer uniforms." Corey admitted. Even as he talked about his real world, the world he lived in, he couldn't help himself from arching his hips forward against this impossible man. Sexual sin had never been a problem for him before.
"How much money do you need?"
"Uh, I've raised $221, but we need $536."
"Is that counting the flat of green beans," August asked, looking into the back of the truck, "And two cases of ramen? You're not really going to feed ramen to kids are you?"
"No, no, of course not," Corey said, blushing, "I was going to keep it and give them my food budget."
"Do you take credit cards?"
"No. I'm sorry. Your hand is on my buttocks."
August grinned crookedly, a grin that narrowed his eyes. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"Um. No, not really. It's just, well," he said, not entirely sure how to explain that he now had a certain issue that he had no real idea how to resolve. That issue was complicated all the more by knowing that August Richards V also had the same issue.
"I'll take care of everything," August promised. Still holding Corey close, it was almost as if he'd been planning this assault and was very used to winning. "My driver should be back in just a moment. I want you to ride around the park with me. I'll take care of the uniforms."
"You've convinced me that helping is good for the soul."
"You're a liar," Corey whispered, but he couldn't force himself to pull away, even though he thought he should.
"Yeah, I am," August admitted. "The truth is that I've been trying to find a way to get your attention for months. I think about you so much that I can't think about school and that's very bad for me, so that makes it true that helping you is good for me. Spend the afternoon with me. You won't regret it."
"Okay," Corey whispered, his eyes going wide as August squeezed his ass, lifted him up a little. "Because it's good for you."
"That's my pretty redheaded saint." August purred.
A long black car that wasn't quite a limousine pulled up just beyond Corey's battered old pick up. A very well dressed and powerful looking black man stepped out of the front passenger seat, promptly held open one of the back doors, that opened backwards to how it should. "Sir."
August moved towards the dark castle of a car. He caught Corey's hand, gently, so cautiously, like taming a rare and wild beast and drew him towards the lush darkness of his car. "Give me your truck keys. Simpson will take your truck wherever you want."
"I have to put gas in it." Corey protested, looking back at his truck. Old fairy tales warned him not to eat with the king of the Fae, not to go into the Underhill palaces of the Elves, for fear he'd never find his way back.
"Simpson, fill the tank, take it back to Saint Sarah's. The keys, Corey. Don't make him hotwire it."
"Oh no," Corey said, pulling the keys from his pocket and handing them over to Simpson. "Wow."
"Thank you, Sir," Simpson said, taking the keys. "I will take good care of your... vehicle... Sir."
"Oh wow," Corey said again, almost not even processing anything as August pulled him into the back of the car.
Supple leather, a deep gray, monogramed with the Richards' family insignia, screamed about costing more money than Corey had ever really thought about seeing all invested in one object. Nervous now, he scooted into the middle of the seat that faced the rear view.
August took the other side.
Simpson closed the door. Warm light came up, flickering almost like candle light in the decadent space.
"It's sound proofed here. You can say anything you want. We can do anything we want."
"What do we want to do," Corey asked, not entirely sure the car had started moving, but fairly certain. "This is... new to me."
"It's okay. It's kind of new to me too. I mean, not the sex part. I'm clean though. I don't have any diseases, but this... I really like you. I like you in ways I've never liked anyone."
"So you mostly , um, sleep with women?"
"Oh hell no. I'm so gay my mother used to tease me that I was her daughter."
"You don't look like a daughter," Corey said, hands on his knees. "Do I look like a girl?"
"No," August said as he left his side of the car. "You look like the man who's been in my dreams for months."
"Months. I am not rash," August said, but his actions didn't really match his words in Corey's understanding. Only a rash man takes his pants off in a moving car with a stranger. "Have you ever had sex before Corey Anderson?"
August toed his shoes off, let his every expensive slacks fall away. He hadn't been wearing any underwear. That in itself was more than a little shocking. With an easy unselfconscious grace he slipped out of his jacket, leaving him in a crisp white shirt. His erection was long, slightly curved, rising up towards his silk tie.
Corey shivered, his own cock throbbing with the rampant craving to be touched, stroked. Both hands pressed into the rich leather, as he fairly pressed himself back, away from the overwhelming everything that filled the back of the car. "You're very big!"
"All the better to eat you with, my darling," August purred. He went to his knees, crawling towards his transfixed prey. "Now my darling Corey. I bet you've never been eaten before, have you?"
"Well, no, not really. There aren't many cannibals in Detroit." Corey watched as August undid his jeans, pushing them back, pulling his own cock, straight as his intentions, thick and virile, surrounded by raging red hair.
"The economy is pretty bad. Maybe that'll change," August teased and just as Corey drew breath to give his opinion, whatever that might have been, August swallowed him whole and with great skill.
Corey gasped, jerked, cried out in strange inarticulate prayer, his hands going to Augusts shoulders to push away, then into his soft dark hair to pull him closer. "Holy Mary Mother of God!"
August growled, a hand around Corey's cock, pressing tight, but not too tight, just to prevent his sweet virgin boy from finding release. Pleasure took Corey over, and he mewled. The intimacy of the touch broke down boundaries, broke down fears and he clung to August, thrusting helplessly into the warm tight mouth. "August!"
Just as quickly, August was only licking him, then climbing up him to straddle. Green eyes, hazed with passion and intimacy, innocent love that had never meant to thrust into bloom - Corey reached up to touch August's face, tracing elegant and nobel lines. "What are you doing?"
"You're about to fuck me," August said, leaning close, arms around Corey's neck, kissing words against his ear. "Don't try this at home kids. I knew what I wanted. I prepared myself for you. A guy isn't normally this slick."
"Uh," Corey said, nonplussed by the legal disclaimer, but there was not enough time to ask for clarification or sign any waiver of rights, rights he'd have given over anyway, as August's tight and very slick body swallowed him for a second time into heat and unbelievable pleasure. It happened so fast and easily, like sliding on a wedding ring, just a perfect fit, and he screamed. The world made no sense at all! "August!"
Passion, primitive and demanding owned him. He surged forward, in a moment carrying them back to the other side of the car. August's legs around his waist, his jeans down around his knees, he thrust, again, again, hard, his face buried in August's shoulder, his arms and hands, body, holding the beautiful brunet as if he were his and his in a way that he'd defend with his life, his in a primal and almost brutal way. August held to him as well, both legs around him now, groaning, panting, rocking with Corey's fucking.
When Corey came, he screamed again, but August held him, hand on his back, a hand in his hair, soothing. Corey didn't know when August had cum, but it was hot and sticky in his tee-shirt, soaking through to his chest, bonding tee-shirt and silk tie. "Oh God!"
"There, there, it's alright. You're wonderful, Corey. You did it perfect."
"Oh god, what have I done?"
"You're a human being and you did what came natural."
They sat on the floor between the seats, August holding and rocking as he started to cry and cling. "I promise, everything will be alright, Corey. I promise. Everything is okay."
"I love you," Corey whispered, terrified of this new feeling, this new need, this deviation in his plans.