FIC: "Different Tastes" 3/4

[lobelia321]

Title: Different Tastes
Part: 3/4
Author: Lobelia; lobelia321@aol.com
Other details: See Part 1.
-----

They were in Dom's room.

"So," said Karl. "Dom. How long are you going to make me wait? Are you going to make me wait..." Karl glanced up at the ceiling briefly. "... another twenty-seven years?"

"Why twenty-seven years?"

"When I'll finally be as old as Bern."

Dom laughed. "Yeah, Karl! But by then I'll be fifty myself, and you'll hardly count as an older man!"

"What? When you're fifty, you'll be chasing after eighty-year olds or what? Ancient geezers who can't get it up more than once every six months? Or ever?"

"They might! Look at whatsisname, Picasso. He had kids when he was way over ninety."

"Kids? So is that what you want to do with those eighty-year olds? Procreate?"

"Oh, shut up, Karl."

Dom walked off, into the bathroom. Karl followed him and watched as Dom unbuttoned his fly. Dom frowned at Karl, pulled down jeans and underpants, and sat down on the loo.

"Okay, okay," said Karl and went into the main room. The flush flushed. The tap rushed. As soon as Dom came out, Karl waylaid him with a hug around the hips.

"What do you want now, Karl?"

Karl made pleadful eyes. "I just want you to like me."

"I do like you, you maniac."

"Okay, then. I want you to love me."

"Right. Well, okay, I do."

"I want you to *say* to me that you really love me."

"All right, Karl: I really love you."

"No, no. I want you to say it and also really mean it."

"How do you know I didn't really mean it just now?"

"Oh, come on. Of course, you didn't really mean it."

"How do you know?"

"Don't be absurd, Dom. You just said it. On command."

"So? It's not enough just to say it but I've got to really mean it, too? And it's not enough just to feel it but I've got to say it and mean it and all at the same time?"

"Yep. That's right."

"I still don't see how you can possibly tell whether I mean it or not. I could say it, for example, tomorrow morning, when it's not on command. I could whisper it into your ear like this: Karl. Karl, I love you..."

Dom's lips brushed Karl's ear. Karl breathed and tightened his grip around Dom. "Well, yeah," Karl mumbled. "That is nice. You can do that. For starters." He stopped mumbling. "You can do that and say it as much as you like until you get so used to saying it that one day, you'll actually feel it and mean it."

"You're mad!" laughed Dom.

"Just madly in love with you," said Karl.

"Oh, shut up. What's the difference if I say it or *feel* it, anyway? What difference would that make in concrete terms? We fuck as it is. We kiss half the evening long. We bring each other off. You practically bloody well live in my hotel room. Look at this place! There's your sproggin..."

"Scroggin."

"Whatever. Don't detract."

"Don't bowdlerise my language."

"I'm not bowdlerising your language. *You* are bowdlerising *my* language!"

"Oh, you've got the English language patented, have you?"

"Karl, do be quiet. You're veering off the topic."

"Which was?"

"Your stuff. *You*. All over my room. Look: your scroggin -- sss-cccrrrr-oggin --, your apples, your lemons, your celery sticks, your barley-water schnapps thingy, your special fat pillow because you get a headache from the hotel ones, your special fairy-something toothpaste because you get gum bleeds from the normal brands everyone else uses, your fucking felt slippers, for god's sake, which nobody else wears, everyone just walks around hotels with bare feet..."

"No, they don't. Bern has slippers."

"Yeah, Bern! Bernard's old!"

"See! I'm an old man at heart, really, I am. If you would only look through the outer shell to the inner me."

Dom giggled. "Okay, Karl, nice try. Keep trying."

"I will. Don't you worry, I'll wear you down."

"So you don't care if you only ever get my love by boring me into it?"

"Dom. I don't care *how* I get it. I just want it."

"Karl. You're so full of bullshit."

"And you're sexy as a... a something."

"Do you want to fuck now?"

Dom fucked Karl. He thrust into him with long, sure strokes. He'd got quite used to fucking Karl and knew how to do it so that they reached maximum pleasure level. Karl bent his head back into the mattress and looked at Dom above him. With each stroke, he gasped, "I love you." And again, "I love you."

"Shut up, Karl," panted Dom.

"But I do," gasped Karl. "And you fuck like a god."

"How do you know how a god fucks?" panted Dom.

"I used to be Ganymede," gasped Karl.

"Karl," groaned Dom, "are you pulling some classical-myth shit on me mid-fuck?"

Karl came and couldn't reply.

-----

They were in the lift. Karl pressed Dom's floor.

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"I know."

"No work Sunday."

"I know this, Karl."

"You invited round to Bern's tomorrow night?"

"Yes."

"You going?"

"Yeah. Of course, I'm going."

"So what are we doing tonight?"

"Oh, Karl. Can I have a night off or something?" The doors laboured open. Karl and Dom stepped out. "I'm tired of sitting round, listening to your unrequited lamenting."

Karl hurried along next to Dom. "Excuse me, Dom, when do you have to sit around and listen to my so-called unrequited lamenting?"

"Well." Dom unlocked his door and let Karl crowd past him into the room. "Last Friday, we were at Bernard's: plain old fucking. Saturday, we went out with the others and got drunk and came back here and tried to do some plain old fucking but couldn't because we were too pissed and you got all maudlin and *very* lovey-dovey. Sunday, you stayed here and talked about love some more. Monday, I believe, we went to the pub and afterwards came here to, uh, discuss your love life. Tuesday, we were here yet again. Wednesday: oh, Wednesday was a radical departure; *I* went over to *your* room -- right shit hole it is, too. Ow, don't throw that at me. Thursday? Hm, I wonder what we were doing Thursday? Which was yesterday? Surprise, surprise: you stayed the night in my bed!"

"Yeah?" said Karl and fell onto said item of furniture. "So?"

"We didn't even fuck! We just lay around and you went on about love, blah blah blah."

"You said it, Dom. We didn't even fuck. That proves you're not in it for the sex. That proves it's *more*, Dom."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does."

"No. All it proves is..."

"Yeah?"

Karl rolled around onto his stomach, kicked off his shoes and let his feet dangle off one side of the bed, his arms dangle off the other. Dom was still standing near the door. He moved towards the bed, then moved back, then sat down in the chair.

"It proves...," Dom said. "It proves that we're friends. That's all it proves."

"Friends who fuck."

"Yeah. Friends who fuck."

"Okay," Karl said. "I can live with that. For now." He brushed his hair off his forehead. He curled his lips. He made pouty eyes.

"See? There you go again. Putting the pressure on. It is getting tedious, you know. And tonight..." Dom looked at the ceiling. It had a stucco pattern on it. "Tonight, could you perhaps, just for once... *not* stay here?"

Karl said nothing.

"Karl?"

"Yeah, what? You want me to go away? To my lonely room?"

"Yes, Karl. Cut the bull and just bugger on off. Just the once."

The ceiling continued to exert a pull of fascination. Karl sat up.

"Karl? Are you still here?" said Dom to the ceiling.

Karl came over and sat down on Dom's lap. "I'm not going," he said.

"Yes, you are," said Dom and bent his head away from Karl's.

"Why do you want me to? Why should I?"

"Because I'm sick of..."

"The love stuff?"

"Yes," said Dom and twisted his face out of the reach of Karl's mouth. "Oh, get your hands off me, will you?"

"Come to bed," said Karl.

"No," said Dom.

"Okay, we'll go to bed after."

"After what? There is no after; you're going to your room."

"That's not the plan, though."

"Plan? What plan? Stop that, Karl. Don't keep... shit, now look what you've done."

"Hm? Pre-cum on your trousers? How terrible."

Karl slid off Dom's lap and swallowed Dom's dick. Dom stopped telling Karl to go away.

"You know what?" panted Dom after a while.

Karl looked up.

"The... you know..." Dom licked his upper lip. He shot his pupils sideways.

"What? Do you want me to die?" said Karl.

Dom grinned, wobblily. "It can be your punishment. For not leaving me alone."

"Where is it?"

Dom gestured vaguely. Karl crawled over to the table, pulled open the top drawer and took out the jar of sambal. He looked at the jar, looked at Dom's dick, back at the jar. He crawled back to Dom. He coated his finger in a small bit of the paste and dabbed it onto Dom's dick.

"More," said Dom.

Karl swallowed. He looked up at Dom. He breathed. He dipped two fingers in. He scooped out a hefty dollop. He spread it all over Dom's dick, until Dom's dick looked like a pickled red herring. Karl licked his lips.

"Go on," whispered Dom. His chest heaved.

Karl gave an exploratory lick and hissed. He looked up. Dom was looking down. Karl pulled Dom's jeans down further. He grabbed Dom's bare thighs, lowered his head, swirled spit around his mouth and closed it over the red dick. He managed two or three swipes, then he came up for air, eyes streaming.

"Shit," he gasped.

"More," panted Dom.

"Hang on, hang on, fuck," said Karl. He closed his eyes; he puffed and blew. Back to work. He clamped his lips down around Dom's dick. A vein strained on his neck. Karl's fingers made marks in Dom's thighs.

"More," said Dom.

Karl broke off. He breathed violently. He dry-retched for a second. His face was wet with tears. "Fuck you," he whispered through his puffs.

"Don't then," said Dom, himself very flushed.

"No, no," said Karl. "I can do this."

"You don't have to put more..."

"Shut up." Karl spread another layer of chilli paste over Dom's dick. He took a breath and dove in for the kill. He moved up and down Dom's dick. He licked the underside of the tip of Dom's shaft. Tears spouted from his eyes and punctuated his swipes. He swore in 'mmphs' but he didn't take Dom's dick out once.

Dom's belly contracted. Dom's thighs shook under Karl's fingers. Dom moaned, a loud moan, and another one, so loud that Karl put his hand across Dom's mouth. Dom bit the hand. He clamped his thighs around Karl's head.

Karl got up and sat down in Dom's lap again. He pulled something out from his back pocket. Dom said nothing, just smiled blissfully.

"Give me your mouth," Karl said.

"Oh... shit, no!"

Karl held Dom's head by the ears so that Dom couldn't twist away out of the chilli kiss.

"You're a sadistic bastard, you know," Karl mumbled.

"That wasn't too bad," panted Dom, puffing a little.

"Yeah, that was nothing. The fire's already gone out."

Dom giggled. "Is my spunk a kind of fire extinguisher?"

"Mm. Lift your legs."

"I don't want to fuck."

"Yes, you do. Go on."

Dom tiredly lifted his legs but after only a few thrusts of Karl, he was moaning again and clutching Karl's neck.

"I love you," gasped Karl.

"Oh, don't start," panted Dom in between moans.

"Think of old guys, if you like," gasped Karl. "If that makes it better for you."

"Shut up," panted Dom.

"Oh, fuck," sighed Karl and came.

Both panted into each other's shirts for a while.

Then Karl pulled out and staggered into the bathroom. The sounds of copious pissing were heard. "And?" he called out from the other side of the door. "Did you think about Bern?"

"No," Dom yelled back.

Karl's head appeared around the jamb. "No?" he said, in a normal speaking-voice.

"As you said. Olives."

"What?"

"You know," said Dom. "If you have a thing for olives, you don't have to eat them *all* the time. Your words."

"I love you," said Karl.

"Karl!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just saying it to prove that I don't only say it when in the throes of sexual passion. What are you doing?"

"Putting on the telly. Why?"

"Turn that off. That's not the plan."

"What's this plan thing? We haven't got a plan. Have we?"

Karl came over and turned the TV off at source. "Yes, we have," he said. "We're first going down the pub, and we're going to have a beer there, and something to eat."

"Oh. Are we?"

"Yes, we are. Some of the others will be there as well."

"Fuck, Karl. This is pre-arranged."

"After the pub, we're going to go dancing."

"What? I'm not going dancing anywhere."

"Yes, you are. We're going to dance the night away and grind groins all night."

"Is this some sort of gay club?"

"Not that I know of."

"So how, pray tell, are we going to be dancing the night away, *grinding groins*?"

"Okay. You've got a point there, Dom. Even better! We won't grind groins. We'll just pine away for each other all night; that'll heighten our desire for the last part of the evening."

"I thought we already had the last part of the evening, just now."

"Dom-baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

"I'm not going to be pining away for you, Karl."

"Yes, you are. If I ply you with enough alcohol, you are."

-----

On Saturday, they went round to Bernard's room. Karl greeted Bernard with the words, "Hello, Bern, here are your toy boys," and Bernard greeted both of them with deep kisses just inside the door.

"Mm," said Karl, "this is happening faster than usual."

Dom said nothing but clung on to Bernard's arm.

"We'll have dinner a bit later on tonight, shall we?" said Bernard. "Let's work up our appetites first."

"And we're not even drunk yet," said Karl.

"Exactly," said Bernard and grinned. "However, I have poured everyone a nice Punt e Mes vermouth to, ah, whet our palates. Follow me."

Bernard led them through the double doors. The bedroom was enormous and decked out in an overall pink theme, as befitted his honeyroom suite. The bed was a huge circular affair, complete with satin sheets and canopy. The carpet was white and flocculent. In a mirrored niche stookd a naked Venus and blandly presented her rounded bosom.

"Wow, Bern," said Karl. "What a brothel."

"Yeah," said Dom. He blinked.

Bernard raised his glass. "Glad to provide some service. Make yourselves right at home, my dear boys." He twisted a knob on the wall and the chandelier dimmed. The wallpaper turned from rose to rust.

The evening proceeded with gusto. There was an aperitif of getting naked, followed by an entrée of trefoil kissing. They sat up, twisting into each other's tripled mouths. Bernard's and Karl's beards rasped along Dom's chin. Then Bernard fell back into the mass of tasselled cushions, with Karl and Dom on either side. Dom spread his fingers into the hair on Bernard's chest and let his tongue fall into Bernard's mouth from above.

This first course was followed by a main course of Dom continuing to kiss Bernard's mouth while Karl kissed Bernard's cock. Bernard put one hand on Karl's head and the other around Dom's shoulders. The satin sheets whispered sweet nothings. After a while, there was a switch to Karl kissing Bernard's mouth while Dom kissed Bernard's cock. Bernard's and Karl's hands met in Dom's hair.

After that, the order of the menu got muddled somewhat. Before Bernard had a chance to come, Karl left off kissing him and started to climb onto Dom but this distracted Dom who forgot Bernard's dick and rolled over to embrace Karl. Bernard sat up to assist but found there wasn't much needed in the way of aid. He wiped Dom's brow, he cupped Karl's balls, then he settled back against the cushions, reached for his vermouth and, with one hand on his cock, watched.

Karl and Dom moved against one another in a horizontal dance. Dom had his eyes closed and one hand on Karl's nape, one on his arse. Karl's hair brushed Dom's face. Dom's head fell back onto the bed, his eyes fell open and he looked directly at Bernard, upside down. The thrusts of fucking drove his head rhythmically against the sheets. Bernard lifted his glass out of the way, leaned forward and tongued Dom's mouth. Dom moaned. His hand moved from Karl's nape to Bernard's nape. Karl shifted sideways to make space. The mattress heaved. Drops spilled.

Dom kissed Bernard but Dom's body was in tune with Karl's. Karl had his cock up Dom's arse and was moving it in and out in a rhythmic waltz. Dom shoved his left middle-finger up his own arse, alongside Karl's cock. Karl gasped, "Fuck, Dom, god." Dom bared his throat and panted against Bernard's lips. His belly muscles tautened.

At the moment of orgasm, Dom broke off kissing Bernard and sought out Karl's open mouth. Moans and groans met and mingled across their two tongues. Karl's fingers shook around Dom's dick.

Bernard retreated to his cushions. He sipped his wine and waited for Dom to crawl over, with matted forehead and limp dick, and coax the cum out of Bernard. Karl put his head on one arm and watched through slanted pupils. Karl's left hand rested around Dom's ankle.

Afterwards, they all sprawled on the mussed sheets. Bernard had his eyes closed and absentmindedly stroked Dom's temple. Dom had his head between Bernard's spread legs. Karl moved his thumb back and forth along Dom's lower shin.

"Right," said Bernard and cleared his throat. "I'll just clean up and see to our meal. Will you boys excuse me for ten minutes?"

He got up and disappeared into the bathroom. There were the sounds of ablution. Bernard came out, wrapped in a robe, gave Dom and Karl a wave, tossed them a towel (fluffy, pink), and walked past the bed into the other room. Soft sounds of classical music began to drift into the bedroom, accompanying the clatter of plates.

Karl pulled himself up into Dom's arms. He tousled Dom's hair. He breathed into Dom's ear. He mumbled, "Some fuck."

"Yeah," said Dom.

"Did you like it, too?"

"Oh yeah."

"Does it make a difference when Bern's there? Does it make it more, er, exciting for you?"

Dom thought. "I don't know," he said. "I... For a moment there, I forgot that Bernard was there."

"Dom," whispered Karl. "I love you."

"Don't," said Dom.

"But I do." Karl burrowed into Dom's neck. "I love you a lot."

"Don't say that here," said Dom.

"Why not? Does it defile the sacred space of Bern's bed?"

"No. But it might make Bernard, I don't know, feel left out."

"I've been thinking about that," said Karl into Dom's neck. "I think we're the ones who're left out."

"How do you mean? Because of John?"

"Yeah. I think this..." Karl waved his arm about in a vague arc, encompassing the bed, the canopy, the wallpaper. "...is just playing for Bern. The serious stuff is sitting back in Wellington. The real thing, that's John for Bern."

"Hm," said Dom.

"We're the fun. But he's not desperate about us. Not like I am about you."

"Oh Karl."

"I am, you know." Karl proceeded to press his lips against Dom's neck, then Dom's shoulders, then Dom's upper arm, then Dom's cheeks, Dom's eyelashes, Dom's upper lip, Dom's lower lip. Dom let him.

"Do you think he misses him, then? John, I mean" said Dom.

"Oh yeah. He's not himself, really. He's different back in Wellington."

"How?" mumbled Dom, under the impact of Karl's lip-presses against his face.

"God, Dom. Do you always and always want to talk about Bern?" said Karl.

"No," said Dom. "You started it."

"What are you looking at me like that for?"

"Like what?"

"Like... that."

"I didn't know I was looking at you in any special way."

"Maybe it's just... I was just..."

"Karl?"

But Karl didn't reply. Instead, he closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against Dom's lips. He put his hand on Dom's small dick. He draped his thigh over Dom's leg. Dom curled his hand around Karl's hand on Dom's dick. Dom shifted his head, and then they kissed, long and slow, with not much tongue and much lip, with little licks and little pouts and little chuckles in between.

Bernard stood in the doorway, thoughtfully cradling his Punt e Mes. From the sheets rose the sounds of intimate murmurings. He looked at the flotsam and jetsam he had collected on his honeymoon bed. He thought of John. He smiled into his wine.

-----

TBC