Weathering the Storm

Well, this was a most entertaining inspiration. Waiting to see which way Rita will jump, my mind took a rather intriguing jump of its own.

Rated R (and maybe a bit above) for obvious reasons.

And you’re welcome, Monk.

***

It’s Friday. The beginning of the weekend. And here I am thinking it’s the beginning of the end. Okay, maybe not that extreme, but this isn’t exactly your typical Friday, either. Why? Well, let’s see.

There’s a storm sitting in the Gulf, an hour or two from landfall. I’m sitting in a store aisle, looking at items across from me that I really shouldn’t be looking at. The store itself happens to be one of many in an underground system of tunnels. And we’ve been cut off from the rest of the world except for a small ancient radio that gets bad reception. If I were religious, I’d be thanking whatever gods existed that there were plenty of batteries, at least. And the power hasn’t gone out yet, but I figure it’s a given that it will.

And yes, I said we. As in I’m sitting across from some guy that looks like he stepped out of some spy-thriller turned chick-flick. Hey, I’m not jealous of the muscles shown off by the form fitting white tee shirt, or the tight black curls that look good on what I can only describe as an Arabian god. Or the coarse stubble that surrounds luscious lips parted in what I think is sleep.

Well, okay, maybe I am. After all, I am playing with my own straight sandy hair, chopped pitiably short. And it used to be so long, but Mother kept complaining that it made me look to thin. I’m just lucky she left me some to style this morning.

“What you did back there, it was very brave.” His voice washes over me like a wave of dark chocolate, bringing me back to the present with a ruthless sensuality.

“What I did? Oh, getting that woman out? Pfft, no big deal. I wasn’t about to let a pregnant woman get stuck in what we hope is built to submarine standards.” But I swallow the rest of my words as he sits up with a smirk and catches my eyes with his own golden-brown pair. Briefly, my mind gave a very weak no, but my crotch gave a very solid yes.

“Getting them all out after your coworker panicked.” His voice held traces of the desert and sent chills up my spine. Well, I was always helpless against men with accents. “But you look tired. Maybe you should rest.”

I grin in spite of myself, looking to the blast-from-the-past radio that crackles softly between us. “Not likely. She’s gonna land as a cat five, from what I’ve been hearing.” I offer a hand as an afterthought-he and I hadn’t really properly introduced ourselves that morning. “Jonathan Bello.”

He takes it with a-little-more-than-friendly smile-any other man would have called it predatory-and I felt the chill up my spine turn into an all out shiver of excitement. “Yazid. Yazid Hannan.” He looks around at the aisle we’d placed ourselves in after-as he said-my coworker panicked at hearing the news of the intensity of the approaching storm and hit the button for the water-protection system of flood doors and pumps. “An interesting store, for such a public place.” He was, of course, talking about the shop across from mine.

Eh, it’s just a small toy shop, filled with lots of hot-pink and red lights, black leather and feathers, and lots and lots of things that go buzz. Ah, Forbidden Fruit, I love her well. Erm, not that I ever shop here. Sex toys are really not my thing. Good for business at the Fruteria-my restaurant-but not my scene.

I gave a wry chuckle as I took in the rows of cuffs, whips, and chains-the bondage section. “They encourage sexual openness. Hey, they help business, so I don’t complain.”

Now I did recognize the predatory nature of his smile as he plucked an item from the shelf behind him, his eyes locked with my own. “Why, Jonathan, they seem to have something with your name on it.” He smirks as his glance travels down my body to the jar of blue cream in his hands. “And it matches your eyes.”

Oh dear God, my stomach did five million flips at that and my dick practically screamed. I don’t know how I keep my voice calm as I reply. In fact, I’m surprised to feel myself grin in response. “Madame Zhiery wanted something-unique to give to her friends. She asked me to produce a cream that enhanced certain activities.” I lean over Yazid to put the jar back among it’s fellows and catch a whiff of saddle leather and soap coming from his swarthy frame.

Which is considerably less than what he catches, I assure you. He moves fast, and in the next second, I am pushed onto my back with that predatory smirk looming above me. “Oh?” He brushes a bit of what’s left of my hair from my eyes. His other solidly muscled arm is next to my shoulder, supporting him above me.

My grin doesn’t falter, but grows wider if you can believe it. “People wanted more of it, so I started selling it here. Makes quite a profit, and is one of their best sellers.”

I felt the hand that moments before had been by my temples slide down my side to rest on my hip. Though, to be honest, that was the least of my worries-his mouth was slowly lowering to teasingly caress my own. “Have you ever tried it?”

Well, there goes the bravado. My eyes go wide as Mother’s warning to be wary of dark-haired strangers sounds off in my head. At least he spares me from needing to reply as his delectably sensuous lips capture my mouth and tongue. And dear Lord, if a first kiss is a taste of things to come, I was in very deep trouble. I love coconut, and lime, and tequila and he must have had a Fruteria coconut margarita because I could still taste the Jose Cuervo.

My body goes limp-well, most of my body at any rate-as he lowers himself onto me and pulls both my wrists above my head. I have no idea what he’s doing, but I don’t care as long as that kiss doesn’t end. But, then again, all good things must come to a close, and I can’t help but sigh as he breaks contact. All contact.

I guess it’s fitting that the instant I realize I’ve been cuffed to the pole behind me is the instant power decides to say ‘well, good-bye and good luck. You’re on your own with this, kid.’ Damn. “So, uh, Yazid. You are planning something, right?” Truth be told, I always was curious about this kind of thing. Even my friends at medschool-that knew quite a lot about bondage for a gaggle of giggling girls fresh from high school-hadn’t told me much.

A flash of orange briefly brought to life sun-kissed features, and the flash grew to become a glow. I heard the smirk in his voice. “Of course. Be patient my friend.”

I was never one for patience, but hearing it come from that smooth, rich voice-I’d wait an eternity. So, I sat there, listening as he shifted the shelving units that formed our aisle and began to light candles. In a matter of minutes, we were bathed in a soft golden light that flickered deliciously over bronze skin. And I saw more by candlelight than I saw by the harsh florescents.

Like I said earlier Yazid was wonderfully muscled, and his belly was a hard eight-pack of abs. His pecs were quite wonderfully built, with a dark bulls eye perfectly placed in each one. And though his chest was bare, a line of dark curls ran from his navel and disappeared under the waistband of the jeans he had yet to discard.

I shudder in anticipation as I watch him reach for the same jar I had only minutes earlier put back on the shelf. Okay, so I had imagined myself doing something similar to him. After all, I am an Italian Stallion, used to leading in the bedroom (what, you thought I was a virgin? HAH!) But Yazid…. Yazid Hannan is a very different breed of man who did not let the fact that he’d only just met me get in the way of what he wanted.

And I’d say it was pretty obvious he wanted me in the way he grasped my begging-for-attention prick. I moan as I feel his fingers slide against the zipper of my pants to pull out the throbbing source of my pleasure. I think I even say something as I feel his lips sear the hollow of my throat and that talented hand glide over already raw nerves.

I don’t know how I keep from screaming when the attention stops.

“Oh dear God,” I manage to breathe. I swear he can hear my less than slow-and-steady heartbeat as he nibbles on my shoulder.

“If you’re not careful, I’ll turn you into a religious man.” His eyes glimmer with laughter as he straightens momentarily and ignores my questioning look. Well, I thought he’d ignored it, until I felt the tug on my woolen trousers followed by the pull of my boxers. I feel him smirk. “You didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, now, did you?”

Sweet merciful Maria. This had gone beyond my little stress relief fantasies of light sex and lots of foreplay. But after a recent two-day weekend of mediocre fucking, I was not going to complain. Hell, this was seventh heaven compared to that. And he was right, I was going religious-but this, to me, was a miracle.

A big miracle.

I feel my eyes widen and my body give an appreciative shudder as I watch him strip. I don’t even want to think about how he’s going to fit, so I think instead on how it will feel. Amazing, no doubt-he had a hard-on that looked like it could last a while. Briefly, I wonder who would last the longest, but my cock already knew it wasn’t going to be me. And he’d already figured out what my miracle cream was for.

“Sweet Jesus, Yazid. Get here, now.” The growl surprised me, but he merely grinned as he sat between my open thighs.

And I know I mentioned how fast he is earlier. But that was when he was fully clothed. He’s much swifter without the hindrance of the clothes that hide his beautiful godly form. Much, much, swifter. It was like he exploded into me, and his entrance made me see stars.

So does the carefully concentrated control with which he pulls my legs around his torso as he pumps himself into my heat. I am panting heavily by this time, my back arched and my head thrown back as I beg him not to stop. I believe my begging increased ten fold when his fingers curl around the base of my prick, and he stills.

But begging is hard to do when your breath won’t get past your larynx, and I whimper as I feel his warm breath tickle the tip of my head. I know I said I saw stars when he began to fuck me, but I saw entire galaxies when he began to suck me. The only noises I make as his warm and wet mouth work are moans and gasps, with maybe a few pleas for harder, faster, thrown in.

If he wanted to put me in exquisite torture, he timed his return to his original task perfectly. I am shivering uncontrollably my cock is exposed to the air and Yazid pushes into me once more, and proves me wrong when he comes inside me. “It’s not over yet,” he promises, though, as he leans over to kiss me. I clench my hands around the pole behind me and my eyes cross when that kiss trails down my throat, over my shirt-covered chest, and back to my throbbing erection.

It is pleasurable punishment as he slowly takes me into his mouth, running his tongue over my head in ever-increasing circles. He keeps me from bucking with those warm, rough hands on my hips as he moves faster and puts more pressure on my pleasure center.

I see the universe when I’m finally permitted to have a strong orgasm, and I think I even call out his name.

He kisses me again as I return to Earth and I’m not surprised to taste myself in that kiss. “Yazid, please tell me you’re in Houston for more than the duration of the storm?” I finally manage to ask as he unlocks the cuffs. Yazid Hannan only smiles at me as he lays down and pulls me close to him.

I don’t know how long we lay there, but I must have fallen asleep sometime. I sigh as I pull myself from a very…detailed dream and glare at the phone ringing across the hall in my restaurant. Muttering something foul, I walk over to the COM device and switch it on. “What?” Screw pleasantries, I was enjoying that dream.

“Bello, Jonathan M? This is Lt. Colonel Cannon-“ the voice is interrupted by another shrill one that I recognize well.

“Johnny! Thank heavens!” I really must feel sorry for Lt. Colonel Cannon; Madame Zhiery is quite a formidable lady when she wants to be. During a crisis is one such time. “It hasn’t flooded down there, has it? No leaks or even anything remotely exciting?”

I blush but keep a grin in my voice as I reply. “Oh, there was excitement, but it’s all good. What are things like up there and how soon can we be out?”

“Oh, un…well, you see-“ I sigh and she stops stammering. “How about I just let the army-man tell you?”

“Okay. Lt. Colonel Cannon, what’s the news?” I run a hand through my hair as I glance back over at the still sleeping Yazid.

“It’ll be a while before we get you out. Your area’s under twenty feet of water. Thirty if you count what we have to get away from the doors. You’ll be down there for at least another 36 hours.”

I can’t help but chuckle as my brain begins to plan. “Is that all? We’ll see you then.” I disconnect without waiting for a reply, stalking back over to the unconscious form.

The next couple of days were going to be interesting, to say the least….

***

Author’s notes: lots of alliteration. That’s all.

That, and I’m officially in love with Yazid and Johnny, and I may use them again :3