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In Your Car Tonight - In Your Arms Tonight

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In Your Car Tonight – In Your Arms Tonight

Troye saw the counter hit zero and the vid officially drop, and sat back to watch the comments roll in. There was the usual "First", and then a delay while people actually listened to the song, and then comments started cascading down the screen. He watched them for a little while, yawning over his keyboard. Sure, it had only been midnight when the vid was released, but he'd had a busy day – he hadn't even been sure the vid would be ready to release until after nine in the evening.

Well, people seemed to like it. That was good. A couple of people grumbling about the visual distortion, but it was good-natured grumbling, not bitchy. A few comments about the pandemic, and living in lock-down, and filming a whole music vid in a single take in the corner of the bathtub.

Troye tried not to think about the pandemic – people called it "just a cold", and while it was as contagious as the closely related common cold that everyone he knew seemed to catch several times every winter, it also killed people, which the common cold wasn't noted for. And the reports trickling in now about what happened to the survivors, the heart damage and lung damage and even brain damage some of them were left with, and no idea really yet whether this would heal or if they'd be left like that forever… Troye couldn't imagine not being able to breathe freely, not being able to sing. Or having a weak heart, having to rest and take it easy – dancing on stage was hard work, and he loved it so much, couldn't wait to get back out there again once this threat was passed. The idea of never being able to do that again was terrifying, he'd dodged that bullet once already. And brain damage … that was another level of terrifying. Or losing a family member. With his family here, cousins in South Africa, and friends who were like family in the US, it seemed impossible they could all get through this – and even if by some miracle they did, inescapably some of his fans wouldn’t. Some of the people who had danced and sung along with his Bloom tour would be dead by now, others fighting for their lives…

Troye had to physically shake himself to pull away from that line of thought, and he clicked through his laptop to check what was happening on the other social media platforms. An explosion in Beirut, and he hadn't even seen the notifications when it happened. It wouldn't be appropriate to tweet about it right now, so soon after dropping such a frankly self-indulgent song – leave that until tomorrow, and do some research before saying anything. Being an "influencer" was a responsibility, he needed to make sure that whatever he said would influence people the right way.

He closed his laptop decisively and went to get ready for bed. Some of his bedtime routine he wondered why he was still doing this, single and living in quarantine so he couldn't even go out looking for a hookup, but it was a habit now, easier to keep going than stop and have to start again. And one day he'd be free to find someone again, have a reason for the routine again. Shower, teeth, face – he looked younger since he'd given up on the bleached hair, and he was happy with that. And shirtless, he looked good in the mirror. He would always be thin, but that hard-won muscle definition, he was proud of that. The shadows under his eyes, they weren't so good – he needed to sleep.

In bed and alone. He wasn't going to cry himself to sleep tonight, he'd promised himself he wasn't going to do that any more. But the other half of his bed was empty, and in a well warmed house he still felt cold. He wasn't built to be alone. He slid his hands over his bare skin, feeling it soft and smooth and sensual under his fingers … but that wasn't really what he wanted either. What he wanted was someone to cuddle him, to want him, to share kisses and touches and mumbled "I love you"s and yeah, sharing orgasms was part of that, but jerking off by himself wasn't it. He tried stroking himself anyway, maybe the endorphins would help, but he couldn't get in the mood.

Troye fell into a restless sleep, odd dreams skittering through his mind. His absent and now ex boyfriend, tall and muscular and model-perfect, staring at him through the screen the last time they'd spoken. Acting like Troye had cheated on him for finding a bit of comfort for a night, when he'd left him, dammit! You don't get to walk out and leave someone heartbroken like that and then make it their fault when they find someone else to ease the pain! – but it still hurt. Would he have come back, if Troye had kept his dick in his pants and waited? Troye didn't think so, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with someone who would rip his heart out and walk away while he lay bleeding on the floor anyway … but fuck, he had loved him so much. He had thought they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, raise children together, grow old together. He'd been looking forward to all of it. The tears he'd refused to shed while he was awake ran down into his pillow as he slept, grief and loss and betrayal and regret and desperate loneliness.

The next dream was so different, it didn't even feel like a dream. He closed the car door, locking it and slipping the keys into the bottom of his jeans pocket, under his slimline 'going clubbing' wallet, and walked down the narrow street full of parked cars. It was achingly familiar, even though he hadn't been back to this part of Perth in years – and he wasn't sure how, but the night was warm, he didn't need a jacket even this late at night, and he was sure it had been a bitter early-August night in Melbourne when he went to bed. His mind was as oddly hazy as the air, and he couldn't see any landmarks as such, but he still knew exactly where he was. His soles thudded softly on the asphalt – glossy black boots that made him walk with more confidence just to be wearing them, strutting like he did on stage. At the corner he turned, slipping confidently through the gaggle of smokers on the footpath, nodding at the bouncer who looked surprised to see him, but waved him familiarly into the club.

The sound inside hit him like a wall, crashed over him like a wave, and absorbed him like the ocean. The club was too full even to try to get to the bar, and Troye gave himself up to the music, the dancing, the floaty feeling as he let his arms wave above his head, his whole body moving to the beat like sentient seaweed under a particularly melodic tide. Troye looked good here, he knew that, his skintight jeans and soft shirt left just enough to the imagination to get any man's attention, and he was aware of several quite attractive men watching him. A couple of them even moved close enough to try to dance with him, or grope his bum, but he just smiled and shook his head at each of them, and none of them pushed the matter. They weren't who he was here for. He drifted through the crowd as it milled this way and that, and then he saw him.

The gangly bone-thin figure was heart-stoppingly familiar, dressed in almost the same tight blue jeans and loose print tee as Troye was wearing, an unofficial uniform. The body language was completely different, though – where Troye moved confidently, a successful and self-assured adult in the company of his peers, the boy was shy, diffident. He knew he was prey here, it was obvious in every tilt of his slender neck as he looked around, and yet. What did you call a fluffy little barely-legal lamb who snuck into a den of wolves asking for someone to eat him gently? Or several someones, Troye knew this particular lamb wouldn't mind.

Troye made his way through the crowd more deliberately now, edging between people to get to the boy before anyone else snatched him up. He must have been here well before Troye, he wasn't sure how someone hadn't grabbed him already, but Troye wasn't giving them any more chances. The boy wasn't tall, a couple of times someone blocked his line of sight, but then he was there, stepping around from behind his back to look into those eyes. Such familiar eyes, so vivid, even in this murky light. "Hi," he said, with a wry smile. "Having fun?"

It was a good thing he was standing so close, or the boy might have collapsed on the floor in that moment. Troye caught him, pulled the suddenly-limp body close against his own. "Easy, babe. That floor's pretty mucky to sit down on, and if you faint in this crowd you'll get trampled. It's just me, and I think you knew I'd be here. Didn't you?"

The boy looked up at him. They were nearly the same height, less than half an inch between them, but the boy was in thin-soled shoes and Troye was wearing boots, it made a difference. "I dreamed this," he admitted, his voice barely audible through the throbbing music. "But I didn't think the dreams were real. You look so … grown up. You've got muscles, and that's stubble. You look so good!"

Troye smirked. "You're what, babe, seventeen? No, it’s summer – you’re seventeen and a half? Sneaking into the club, and the bouncer lets you because you're so pretty and you look more like fourteen, and he kind of hopes to get in your pants if he's nice enough. But now I'm here you're not going to give him so much as a snog because frankly he's a creep. You'll always be polite and pleasant because that fucking orc could break you in half with one hand tied behind his back, but he's never getting anything more than that, and nor is anyone else more than a decade older than you."

The boy recovered quickly from his shock as Troye laid down the law, and nodded resignedly at the last statement. "I guess. But the age of consent here is sixteen, so I'm  well legal to pick up, he's not letting gaol-bait into the club. And he did put a sober driver stamp on my hand, so the bar wouldn't let me buy a drink if I tried – he might get the sack if they found out I was here, but nobody's going to court for allowing underage drinking in their club. Unless you want to buy me one?" He turned his flirtiest smile on Troye, and damn if Troye's knees didn't nearly melt right there.

"Minx." With a light shove, Troye turned the boy around so his back was against Troye's chest, pulling him close so they could continue talking while outwardly seeming to be dancing like a hundred other couples around them.

"So what are you here to tell me, besides not to fuck a sleazy bouncer?" The boy let his head loll back on Troye's shoulder as they danced together, displaying that long, white, and very bite-able throat to the world from the safety of Troye's suddenly very possessive arms. "It's traditional to have something important to say, isn't it, in this situation?"

"I don't know," Troye admitted. "I didn't plan to come here, I've just been thinking about you a lot lately and here I am. Which is funny, because yes I did just drop another song about you, but that's not my first song about you, and I've never found myself back here with you before. This might be just a dream, even, although it feels more real than any dream I've ever had. And if it is real, I don't even know what I'm allowed to tell you – I think the traditional is supposed to be lottery numbers, or which horse is going to win the Cup, but I've never paid any attention to that shit so I've got no idea. And you don't need it anyway – you'll do well enough on your own merits. Your singing career is going big places, and the acting and modelling are doing just fine too."

The boy in his arms purred. "You do know how to flatter a boy. And that's worth more than anything else you could tell me, anyway. I mean this could be one of those parallel universe things, where you tell me the winning numbers from your timeline but a couple of air molecules are in a different place so the numbers are different here and I blow my money, but knowing that my career is going to be okay, that's something I can take home and keep working on. How is everyone at home?"

"They're good, yeah. Tyde sings too, now, it's pretty cool. I like being a successful role model for my baby brother. And my fans really like him – there's a few young het girls that seem to just like him for being a maybe-available version of me, and that's kind of creepy, but mostly the fans love him because he's my baby brother, and a good kid, and actually a pretty good musician in his own right. He'd probably be a success even on his own, although the industry being as fickle as it is I'm glad we don't have to test that."

"And are you available? How old are you now?"

Troye sighed. "I'm not sure how much I'm meant to tell you, but yeah, I'm single again. Maybe in your timeline you won't fuck it up and he'll stay. I think now he was always going to leave, but it's only been a few months, I'm still too torn up about it to see it clearly. Maybe it's better for his career now, he's made his name known as my boyfriend, now he can move on and everyone will know him as my ex. I hope he wasn't just using me for fame, but I don't know how to tell, now. But either way, if you meet someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, love him like you mean that. It wouldn't be worth dodging the grief of losing him if it came at the cost of not having loved him. And I'm only twenty-five, who knows what's ahead."

“Mm-hm,” the boy replied thoughtfully. "So I came to the club tonight to get picked up, preferably by someone hot, and you're the hottest bloke here, and you're telling me you're single. And I reckon out of every gay bloke in this city tonight, you're the one I can trust most not to hurt me. And I want to learn from someone a bit older and more experienced than me, and I reckon you qualify there, too. What do you say, Troye? I’m sweet seventeen-and-a-half and never even been kissed, and I want kisses but I want a lot more too. Will you be my first time for the things I’ve never done before?"

Troye wasn't sure which shocked him more – that the boy had said his name, or that he was propositioning him so boldly. They'd spoken until this point without names, both knowing who the other was without introduction – saying his name made it real. But the way he was rubbing that firm little bum against Troye's dick as they danced felt pretty damned real too. "Um, I mean yeah, if you want to. If you don't think it's weird. My car's around the side, if you have somewhere we can drive to – and going out the side door we don't have to let your sleazy bouncer see both of us together. Hopefully he'll soon forget you ever existed, but both of us leaving together would be memorable. Do you want to leave already, though? The night is young."

"It is, but I came here tonight to pick up, or be picked up, so if you're willing, then mission accomplished. And if we start feeling each other up on the dance floor, somebody's going to catch sight of both our faces. I don't need any busybody getting upset about that and making a fuss. It might be eight years, but I reckon you could use my face for a shaving mirror."

"True. If I'd known I was coming here I should have dyed my hair again or grown out some stubble or something. Try not to look like identical twins."

"Mmm, there's a kink for identical twins, if we wanted company, but tonight I want your attention all to myself. Take me away and do things nobody's ever done to me, Troye."

Troye led the way past the bar to the side door, weaving through the crowd slowly. It wasn't impossible as getting to the bar itself would have been, but it still took a while, and he appreciated the time to think. Seventeen! The boy wasn't even out to the world yet, all the important irls knew but it would be most of another year before he came out online.

Eventually they got outside, and walked down the street to where Troye had left his car. The boy whistled softly when he pressed the fob button to unlock it. "You weren't kidding about the career thing, were you?" he murmured.

"Glad you approve," Troye replied, feeling just a little bit smug. Material possessions weren't that important to him, at twenty-five years old and owning a house in another country he was now grateful to be living back with his Mum and Dad, but he was proud of his car. "Although now I think of it … there's a good argument that you bought this car for me, so – thank you, babe."

The boy giggled, and looked up and down the lane – for all the parked cars they were alone here, and there was a haze in the air, dust or fog or maybe smoke, that diffused the glow of the street lamp at the corner. "I've always wanted to fuck someone over the bonnet of an expensive car, and it's probably a bit risky to try that here, but that kissing we were talking about – can we do that here, at least?"

Troye smiled and pulled him close. "Thought you'd never ask." Their lips met tentatively, he wasn't sure how fast to take this, but the boy was eager, pushy even. He crowded Troye against the side of the car, and Troye let his knees sag just enough to bring them to the same height, letting the boy take ownership of his mouth. He was good, actually, his lips that enticing balance of softness and firmness, and Troye had never been into younger men but he was willing to make an exception for this one.

Even as he thought that, the boy pulled back and looked at him. "Does it bother you that I'm so young?"

"It doesn't, actually, now I'm here," Troye replied with a tinge of surprise. "All of my relationships since I was your age have been with men who were older than me, whether by a few months or several years, but you – well, you're a special case, aren't you. I've seen your pics online, I know you look disturbingly young in a stronger light, but I know you're not as young as you look, and in this light it's not so intense. You're not underage, you're just skinny and pretty. You're legal, so a lot of people who ought to know what they're talking about have decided you're old enough to make your own choices. I'm not sure that I agree with the whole "age is just a number" thing, but I remember being your age and knowing what I wanted. Although that thing about not getting involved with anyone more than a decade older than yourself stands, at least until you stop looking so child-like," he added sternly. "Anyone that much older who actually likes you looking so young, rather than being uncomfortable and then learning to accept that you're an adult despite your face, is a creep. And actually even someone your own age who gets turned on by the idea that you look fourteen is a creep, but the more older they are, the worse it gets."

He paused for thought.

"I know that you know what you want, and I respect that. And I know you know I’d rather step in front of a train than do anything that you're not going to be completely happy about when we're done, but I think we can handle that. I don't know how long we've got together, I'm assuming a few hours before I'm pulled back into my own time. We can do whatever you want. And I do mean whatever – you know that anything you've been reading about or imagining or dreaming of lately, I'm not going to be surprised or disgusted or repelled, because I've had the same fantasies. If something isn't going to work, I'll tell you honestly, and if you want to try it anyway, we can do that."

The boy looked dazed. "Whatever I want is a lot, Troye. I kind of want everything – I don't know where to start."

"We don't have to do anything at all if you're not sure, you know, we can sit in the car and chat and I'll be glad to spend time with you. Or if you know of any all-night coffee bar we can go and chat there. I've missed you around, lately, I got grown-up and boring in a long term relationship and I’ve lost my sense of fun a bit. Or on the other hand, if you want something to remember, I could show you what being sucked off feels like? I'm pretty sure that was something you were looking for tonight, if you think I'm a suitable person to show you."

"I can't think of anyone more suitable on the planet," the boy replied breathlessly. "If you're okay with that … but I feel like I should do that for you first. You're so much older and more experienced than I am."

"Baby, going into a hookup with that attitude is going to get you used. Don't do that. You're young and beautiful, and once you come out publicly you're going to have hot men from all around the world begging to suck your dick. And the way to stay sane is to make sure that whatever you do in bed with anyone, you do as equals. You don't let someone give you a blow job and then just give him a lazy hand job back, or leave him to sort himself out, and you don't let anyone else treat you like that either. Share a hand job, or suck each other off, or sixty-nine once you've had a bit of practice – sixty-nine takes concentration, which is not easy when you've got your dick in someone's mouth. But always make sure the orgasm you give and the one you get are just as good as each other. And when you get to anal … I know you won't be ready to bottom for a few years yet, but as a caring top you can still make sure you make your partner feel as good as you do. Better, actually – the orgasm you can give your partner from his prostate can be even better than what he can get from just his dick, if you takes the time to make him come that way."

The boy pressed against him, and Troye could feel how hard he was in those tight jeans. "Can we get into your car and do this, then? I was kind of horny before I went to the club, I figured I'd be able to get something tonight, and it's been hours."

Troye kissed him again, reaching down to pull the car door open, and they stumbled into the privacy of the back seat. It wasn't a big car, but they weren't bulky men, they could fit. "I feel like you deserve a king size bed and satin sheets, but I don't have anywhere to take you, and I don't know if my credit card would work to pay for a hotel room in this time. And you taking me home would be crazy risky. Can you accept your first blow job in the back seat of a car that you're going to buy one day?"

The boy giggled, and tugged his shirt off, dropping it onto the seat behind him. "I went to the club to pull, I was expecting something in the dunnies, or in the alley behind the club. This is luxury. I just … I want to know. I've read about it, I've heard people talking about it, I've jacked off watching porn of other people doing it, but I've never done it myself. I want to know."

Troye stripped his own shirt off just as hastily, and pulled the boy close to him, kissing him on the mouth. The boy responded eagerly – he'd been pushy before, and now he was desperate, but somehow less pushy with the confidence that he would be getting what he wanted here. His mouth was hot and eager, and he tasted sweet, fresh and wholesome and perfect.

Troye dragged his lips away from the boy's mouth eventually, and kissed down the side of his neck. "Do you want me to mark you?" he asked softly, and as the boy moaned "yes please" he set to work – low on the side of his neck where a collar would cover it, but still so sensitive. Troye didn't bite deeply, he wasn't a vampire, yet by gently nipping and sucking he soon had the boy whimpering under his mouth, his hands gripping the back of Troye's shoulders. Troye's own hands were free to wander that beautiful porcelain-smooth skin, and he revelled in being able to touch him like this, the boy's body so responsive under his fingertips.

When he was satisfied that he'd marked the boy's neck properly, Troye let go, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. The boy's face was flushed under a slight sheen of sweat, his lips dark red with arousal, his pupils dilated – he was glorious to behold. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you look like this, babe?" Troye asked him. "When you go home, I want you to figure out how to have a mirror in front of you whenever you wank. You're fucking gorgeous, and you should know it." He bent to kiss down the boy's chest, his tongue flicking briefly over the dark and sensitive nipples, and paused to look up when he got to the jeans waistband. "You want to undo these for me, baby, or are you okay with me undressing you?"

The boy hastily undid his jeans buttons, lifting his bum off the car seat to push the worn denim down to his knees. Troye could clearly see the outline of his cock, erect and leaking, through the thin cloth of his blue cotton undershorts, and he bent to rub his cheek against that outline, like a cat rubbing against its human. The boy gasped at this sensation, and Troye turned to mouth at his cock through the fabric. He remembered how easily seventeen could climax, and he wanted to make this last – at least long enough that the boy wouldn't be embarrassed about coming too soon. He went on mouthing at the thick cock through the thin fabric for a few minutes, tilting his head to make eye contact with the awestruck boy as he did so. He brought his hands down to the soft elastic waistband then, and lifted his head to speak. "May I?"

The boy was lost for words now, but nodded eagerly, lifting up again so Troye could push his undershorts down to meet his jeans. He took his time over getting back to the boy's cock, kissing the soft sensitive skin of his inner thighs and sucking gently on his balls, making the boy whine with need. Then he licked broadly up the boy's shaft, all the way from base to tip, and the boy swore softly. "Fuck, Troye, I'm not going to last long like this."

"That's okay, baby. You're seventeen and it's your first time, being able to make it last comes with age and practice and you've got none of either. You can work on that by making yourself wait for it when you're home alone, but really you need to be in a relationship and practising in company to get good at making it last. And anyway – at your age you'll be good to go again in a few minutes, and that's at least as good as being able to last. Most people giving a blow job are either just getting you hard to do something else, or they're trying to get you off as quickly as they can – once you know which it is you know how to respond."

He bent to take the boy's cock in his mouth, enjoying the little whining noise this pulled from his throat, and moved around it gently, wetting the skin with his tongue before pulling it deeper and deeper into his mouth. He wrapped one hand around the base, giving himself a safe margin of how much he could take into his mouth without bruising his throat – he was singing and recording daily now, he didn't want to interrupt his ability to work even for this. And he knew he could make this the best thing the boy had ever experienced without that.

He pulled off a moment to speak again. "As a matter of interest, never deep throat when you have to sing in the next week. Bruising your throat is bad for it at any time, but if you sing while it's bruised you can injure it long term. And your voice sounds different when it's bruised, you wouldn't want to record anything in that condition and have to make your voice sound like that every time you sing that song live forever after."

After that Troye set to work in earnest, working his hand and mouth together, and over the next several minutes the boy's whimpers got progressively more desperate until he was coming with a wordless shout, hot fluid jetting into Troye's mouth for him to swallow effortlessly. He worked the boy gently through the aftershocks, softly sucking on the successively weaker spurts of semen, and gently licking over his skin until the boy got to being oversensitive. With a last kiss, he sat up and smiled, licking his lips.

"That was … oh my god, Troye. That was amazing. Kiss me? I'm not sure if I can move."

Troye shuffled forward to kiss him, surprised when the boy's mouth opened the moment it met his, his tongue gently licking at Troye's closed lips in an unmistakable request for entrance. Troye parted his lips obligingly, letting the boy taste his own semen in Troye's mouth, appreciating the way he seemed to like that. Not everybody did, and it always seemed rude to him, to come in someone's mouth if you didn't even like the taste of your own come yourself. It was nice that he wasn't like that. And he was very nice to kiss.

After a bit the boy recovered from his post-orgasmic lethargy, and sat up a bit more. "I think it's your turn," he said with some determination, running his hands down Troye's naked chest. "Can I do that to you now?"

Troye nodded eagerly. "Shit yeah, babe, I'm not going to say no to that. Just take your time, and use your hand so you don't take too much in your mouth and hurt your throat. Guys who can deep-throat are hot, but they're not pop stars."

The boy took to Troye's jeans buttons with both hands, pulling them down to expose his charcoal grey peach-skin silk boxer shorts. "Classy underwear," he murmured. "I'm not sure that that doesn't impress me more than the car – lots of business-people have shiny cars who can't really afford them, and write it up to advertising expenses to fool people that they're doing well, but expensive underwear is something you do just for yourself, when money really isn't a consideration." He trailed his fingers over Troye's cock, smiling when he heard Troye's breath hitch. "Do I just do what you did? Just the same?"

"You can do it however you want, babe," Troye replied, dizzy with the sensation of tentative fingers touching him through the silk. "I'm vers these days, so if you want to explore that there's lube in the junk-box, even condoms if you want to go that far, but tonight is about you, so if you're not ready for that, that's fine. We'll do whatever you want, and no more."

"But you wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't something you like, and you know I'm going to like it too," the boy replied, sharp-witted. "And if it's something you like having done to you that you know I'm going to like doing, I'd be a fool to miss out, wouldn't I? I don't know a thing about this, though – I've tried to research it online, but I was too scared to try it out myself."

"Yeah, it'll be a few years before you get there, on my timeline at least," Troye agreed. "When you do decide you're ready to start exploring that yourself, start with small objects – a skinny toy, or just one finger – and lots of lube. Lots of it, don’t be afraid to make a mess, and don’t believe the porn vids where they spit twice and that’s enough. It isn’t. But you'll get there. It just takes a lot of trust to let someone else touch you there. Practising by yourself is valid."

"But you trust me enough to offer that, tonight?" the boy asked, still gently stroking Troye's cock with his hand. "I suppose that makes sense – like I know I can trust you. If either of us gets hurt, we're both going to wear the pain. And I'm getting hard again already, just thinking about it. How do I do this?"

"I think you start by helping me out of these boots," Troye replied. "Doing this with my legs tied together is entertaining too, but I want to watch your face." He bent to unlace one boot and the boy moved to unlace the other, pulling it off Troye's foot and placing it neatly in the foot-well. They peeled off Troye's jeans together too, and the boy carefully turned them the right way out and placed them folded on top of the boots before turning to take off Troye's silk boxer shorts.

Troye felt awkward for a moment, fully naked like this, but then the boy was touching him, delicate fingers stroking his cock shyly, wide eyes drifting between his cock and his face with equal wonder. Then he bent down, and Troye moaned aloud as that sweet mouth took him, wet and warm and sucking him down eagerly. He used one hand around the base like Troye has explained, and his other was idly stroking Troye's thigh, the extra touch helping him stay grounded.

Troye wasn't sure how long this went on, it was all too good to bother with any sense of time, but after a while the boy lifted off him, a thread of saliva trailing from his lower lip to the head of Troye's cock. "So you were saying about lube – can you tell me what to do with that?"

"Yeah," Troye mumbled, collecting his thoughts. "In the junk-box there. Sachets – not as environmentally friendly as a bottle, but safer to carry in the car. And the condoms were new only a couple of months ago, and I park in the garage so the car can’t get hot enough to damage them. It's winter in my time, anyway. I haven't been able to go anywhere and meet anyone to use them with since lock-down, but I bought them when I got told I was single, just in case."

"Lock-down?" the boy asked, idly curious.

"Yeah, that's a thing. Don't schedule anything tour-shaped for 2020. Maybe it won't happen in your timeline, but in mine there's a worldwide pandemic respiratory virus going around, just mild enough that a whole lot of dickheads ignore the risk and all the emergency laws and keep spreading it, but well nasty enough to kill a lot of people. Like, one-every-eighteen-seconds-just-in-the-US, refrigerated-trucks-to-store-the-bodies-they-can't-fit-in-the-morgues a lot. And some of the survivors have lung and heart damage that seems to be permanent, so I'm trying really hard not to catch it. That would really fuck up my career. Go home, stay home, get groceries delivered, sit in your bedroom and write songs with your door shut. You shouldn’t ever not have a good mike and camera with you, anyway, wherever you go. But so far our family is okay. And whatever power put me here tonight clearly isn't worried about the amount of paradox it'd create if I had it, and infected a nightclub with it. So I reckon we're safe."

The boy looked shocked, but then he shook his head and got back to the task at hand. He found a sachet of lube, and also a condom which he left on top of the junk-box. He tore open the corner of the lube sachet, and then looked to Troye for instructions.

"Squeeze a bit out onto your fingers, and then rub that onto my rim," he told him, spreading his thighs wider and tilting his hips up. The boy followed his instructions, and Troye gasped softly at his touch, the slippery lube not even cold on this warm night. "That's good," he murmured, as the boy gently massaged the tight muscle. "Ohh, it's been a while. When the bloke you thought you were going to raise a family with doesn't even want to fuck you any more, you're in trouble, babe. It has been a while. A bit more lube? Yeah. Always be that gentle and careful, and horny men all around the world will be begging you to spread their legs. Not that you're ever going to sleep around much, but knowing you could is a boost. Alright. See if you can get a finger inside now … ahh!" Troye's voice broke off in a soft whine as the boy's index finger broached him, and he pressed forward to take it deeper. "Yeah, that's perfect. Just use that one finger for a bit, move in and out and around, you'll feel when the muscle relaxes enough to take a second. That feels really good, you're doing great."

The boy seemed to get more confident then, and bent down to take Troye's cock in his mouth once more, and Troye's ability to form words gave up at that. The boy wasn't trying to make him come, he was moving much too slowly and gently for that, and he certainly wasn't doing this to get him hard, Troye didn't need any help with that. He was just making Troye feel good, that was all, and as he slid a second finger inside his arse and curved them up to find his prostate, Troye realised he was actually seeing stars.

The boy's mouth left his cock again at that, and Troye blinked at him in confusion. "You stopped," he mumbled.

"Is it okay? What I'm doing?" the boy asked. "You kind of jumped, I wasn't sure."

"Yeah, you're doing magnificently. You found my prostate, is what made me jump. It's good. Really good – the sort of good that if you just rubbed that gently for a little while you'd make me come, although if you're planning on having a use for that condom you got out, I'd love to come on your cock. But having my cock in your mouth at the same time as your fingers inside me – I like that."

The boy giggled. "Is it weird that I like having your cock in my mouth? I feel like that should be weird, sucking someone's cock should be about making them feel good and that's it, but I really like it in my mouth. It feels good."

"Baby, all the boys you're going to meet in the next few years who will want your cock in their mouth aren't just doing it to make you feel good. Sucking cock feels good. Having someone come in your mouth feels good. If you like them, it feels really good – the more you like them the better it feels, to the point that some men can come just from making a man come in their mouth. But it feels good even when it's a stranger, if he's someone you look at and want to. Some people are more picky than others about who they want to, of course. But yeah, feeling good with a cock in your mouth is pretty normal."

The boy bent back to what he'd been doing, softly stroking over Troye's prostate a few times and then leaving it alone while he went on with stretching him, adding more lube without needing to be told. Troye concentrated on trying to lie still and let the sensations wash over him, the eager mouth around his cock and the strong slender fingers working inside his arse – of course, the boy played keyboard, he would have nice strong confident fingers. That was three fingers, now, he was rolling his wrist to move them around, and fuck but it felt good, so many sensitive nerves that had been neglected far too long getting the touch they craved at last. The boy seemed to like a lot of eye contact, too, and Troye loved that, looking down into those enormous blue eyes, their brilliant colour vivid even in this dim light. And at this angle, looking up with Troye's cock in his mouth, jaw stretched and cheeks hollowed until his cheekbones could cut glass – fuck. He was perfect.

The next time the boy pulled away from Troye's cock, Troye knew before he spoke what he wanted to say. "Yeah, I think I'm ready. You know how to put the condom on?"

"I've practised a few times, yeah. Seemed like a good idea." The boy reached out for the condom, and then, looking down at himself, put it back down to finish undressing, awkwardly yanking his shoes off one handed without unlacing them, trying not to smear lube on his jeans as he tugged them down his legs. "Should have undressed properly earlier," he muttered. "If you're naked, I should be too." Dropping his jeans and undershorts on top of his shoes in the foot-well, the boy picked up the condom again, carefully extracting it from its packet and rolling it down his cock, holding the reservoir tip closed so it couldn't catch an air bubble – just like he'd been taught in sex ed class.

They shuffled into a better position then, Troye lying down across the back seat, the boy kneeling between his thighs. Troye lifted his ankles up onto the boy's shoulders, smiling up at him. "If there's any lube left in the sachet, smear it over the condom, and then just push in slowly – take your time, so I can adjust still."

He had to concentrate on his breathing as the boy entered him – it wasn't painful at all, he'd done a good job with the stretching, but it was intense. He huffed a breathless laugh when he bottomed out – "Would it be disrespectful to my ex to say you're bigger than what I'm used to? I don’t think I’ve ever had something that thick in me, babe. I love it, but take me gently for a bit."

The boy smirked, and slid partway out and then back in again slowly, watching wide-eyed at the place where his cock was disappearing into Troye's body. "I'm glad you made me come already, or I'd be embarrassing myself right now. You feel amazing, Troye. And watching – that's me, and that's you, and that's part of me actually inside you. And you're so tight, but I can slide in and out like this." His eyes moved to Troye's face, and Troye knew well enough what he looked like now, he'd seen it often enough in his mirror. The look on the boy's face was rather gratifying, though. "Troye, can I kiss you? You're so beautiful like this…"

"Yeah. C'm'ere." Troye shifted his legs, letting the boy lie down on top of him, crossing his ankles behind the boy's waist to stabilise the position. He was always at home to kissing during sex, it was one of the things he felt lifted mere fucking into the realm of making love, and the boy was particularly nice to kiss, too. He ran his hands over the boy's back, feeling the muscles work as his hips rocked slowly, and hitched his legs a little higher.

At this angle the boy's cock was suddenly rubbing quite firmly against Troye's prostate, and he felt his body trembling with pleasure at that deeply intimate touch. He moaned softly, and the boy smiled against his mouth. "Does that sound mean I'm doing this right?"

"Sooo right, yeah. I don’t even believe in God, but I know He loves gay men, babe, He gave us a g-spot inside our arses so we could feel like this. One day you're going to meet a boy you’ll love to the ends of the earth and back, and he's going to spread you out on a California King bed and teach you what this feels like – but he isn't going to fill you as well as how you're filling me now. You're so fucking perfect, babe." Troye realised he was babbling, and reached up for more kissing instead, losing himself in the perfect soft-firm lips and eager tongue. Kissing was good, so good, and the sex was amazing, he wanted to do this forever, take the boy home with him back to his own time and make love with him every night.

Troye giggled slightly at that thought, and the boy pulled back to look at him. "What's funny?"

"My brain. You're making me feel so good, and you're the most attractive man I've ever been with, and I want to take you home and have you move in as my boyfriend and make love together every night. And it's silly, of course I can't – but I wish I could."

"If I disappeared out of this time … ugh. Paradox and all that shit. But it's going to be hard to find someone as attractive as you, after this. I don't want to feel like I'm settling for second best."

"Nothing wrong with having standards, babe. You're built to be in a long term relationship, there's no point throwing years of your life away on someone who isn't what you're looking for. Bad enough when you spend years on someone who you thought was. Ugh! Please stop me thinking before I get maudlin?"

The boy giggled. "Should I mark your neck too, so you don't feel so single?"

"I wish you could, I'd love your marks all over me, but it is actually illegal for me to leave the house to hook up right now, and Mum and Dad would freak if they thought I'd done something that reckless and stupid. You know how easily I catch colds, with a lethal pandemic going I don't even spend a lot of the time with the family, I mostly just stay in my bedroom, but you can guarantee if you marked me someone’d see it. Better not."

The boy bent to kiss him again, and started fucking into him harder, gradually speeding up until his hips were rocking at full speed to drive his cock deep inside Troye, and Troye hitched his legs even higher, tilting his own pelvis to bring all that pressure and movement hard against his prostate, his whole body shaking with tension. It was so good, so much – too much, really, but too much was exactly right. There was only one place this was going, and Troye luxuriated in the inevitability building inside him, so close, so close … and then with a faint shout he came, his mind tumbling as his body released, come spurting over his body as his bum clenched and flexed in time. He felt the boy coming inside him half a moment later, pulled over the edge by Troye's body almost sucking the come out of him, the muscles milking every drop out of his cock as the aftershocks of Troye's orgasm swept through him.

They lay together some time, the boy's forehead dropped down to rest on the car seat beside Troye's head, panting roughly in the sudden quiet. Troye could feel the boy's heart hammering against his own, gradually slowing to a more normal pace as their breathing calmed, and the boy lifted his head up to kiss him again. "Wow," he said, eventually. "The way I felt when you made me come in your mouth was amazing, but that was off the planet. That's why everyone's obsessed with it. Fuck paradox, can I come home with you and do that all the time? If you're hiding in your room all the time they wouldn't even need to know I was there."

"Tempting. That may have been the most amazing sex I've ever had in my life, and it's tough to see how you could improve on that but people usually do get better when they're in a relationship long enough to really know each other. Of course you have a Mum and a Dad and brothers and a sister and a whole lot of fans already who would all be very upset if you just disappeared one night, and I wouldn't have a career and this car and everything in my time if you didn't make it happen in your time – but if you made me come any harder than what you just did to me, I might have a heart attack and die, and then I wouldn't care anyway."

"Sounds like a nice way to go, but I don't want to die at twenty-five. Maybe a hundred and twenty-five, that'd be a good way to die then. If we don't have regenerative medicine and all that stuff by then. Maybe we'll have time travel or cloning technology or something so I can live with you all the time, and we can fuck like bunnies and upset our great-grandchildren when they come to visit us in the old folks' home."

The boy reached down to hold the condom as he withdrew, then, and tying off the condom looked around for where to dispose it. "Rubbish bag in the front passenger foot-well," Troye told him, admiring the boy's long slender limbs as he reached through into the front seat, dropping the condom and also its packet and the empty lube sachet into the bag there.

"You really are beautiful, you know," he said conversationally as the boy squirmed back into the back seat with him. "I know I said you look about fourteen, but you don't, not really. You're just really really pretty, and being so pretty and with those big eyes, my mind interprets that as looking young. And if we could clone you so that there was one of you here in this time to be you and one I could take home with me, I absolutely would. We'd probably have to pretend that you weren't fucking me every night – I don't know if the rest of the world would view this as identical twin incest or as just a very sophisticated form of masturbation, but I don't think I'd want to make it their business to judge. But having you with me to talk to, and look after each other, and write songs together, and sing together, and perform on stage together! Fuck, babe, we could own the world with that."

"Where do I sign?" the boy agreed. "Singing, writing songs, performing on stage, touring – you've got the perfect life, and I know that means I just have to keep working at it and I will have the perfect life too in time, but it'd be more fun with you. And being locked in a bedroom with you wouldn't get old in a hurry either." He was sitting in the foot-well on top of his clothes now, and he bent to lick Troye's come off his belly. "Mmm," he murmured approvingly. "I mean I knew this would taste good, but it does, it tastes good, Troye. You taste good. I'm sorry I missed out on having you come in my mouth – not sorry enough to regret having you come on my dick, that's the most amazing thing I've ever felt, but I'd love to have you come in my mouth too."

"Well I haven't evaporated out of this reality and woken up in my own bed again yet, so we probably have time," Troye replied easily. "You know I won't say no, if that's something you want to do."

"Sit up a bit so I have room, then?" the boy asked, and Troye shuffled around, trying not to let his naked bum smear lube on the upholstery. He knew he should have put washable covers on his car seats, and he hadn't yet, and he really didn't want lube on the cloth. He wasn't hard at all at the moment, but the way the boy took the whole length of his cock into his mouth in one move and started sucking, that wasn't going to take long to remedy. He watched the boy's face, the way he was looking up at him, the twinkle of mischief in those glorious eyes, amused at how quickly his cock was swelling and also smugly pleased that he could affect Troye like this. He wrapped his hand around the base as it got too big for comfort in his mouth, and pulled off enough for Troye to see that agile pink tongue rolling around the head and pressing into the tip, teasing all the most sensitive places.

"Can I put my fingers inside you again?" He asked. "You said you liked that, before …"

At Troye's eager and wide-eyed nod the boy slid two fingers back inside him, curling them forward to find his prostate again, and Troye moaned at the touch. It was so good, that eager mouth sucking around his cock, those clever slender fingers stroking him inside, and he wasn't going to last long like this, he couldn't, but it was all so good he wanted to bottle this feeling and keep it forever. The boy seemed to share that mood, too, even while his fingers were pushing Troye towards orgasm his mouth and hand were taking his cock slowly, drawing out the sweetness of this time. As Troye got closer to his climax, the boy even slowed down his fingers, a soft gentle stroking that was so good, so very good, and Troye was so close…

After the leisurely approach, his orgasm hit him without warning, like the last snowflake drifting down that sets off an avalanche, and his whole body convulsed with the power of it. He felt the boy swallowing around his cock, sucking harder to demand every drop of it, and from his voice crying out involuntarily to his toes curling with the pleasure and intensity of the moment, every part of his being was taken over by the sensations of climax.

"C'm'ere and kiss me," he said eventually, as his mind floated drowsily down from his high, and the boy climbed up to straddle his lap, cuddling and kissing – and yeah, his mouth tasting of Troye's semen was pretty damned glorious, and the relaxed and sleepy way he snuggled against Troye's naked chest was pretty wonderful too. They should probably put some clothes on, he wasn't sure what the time was but he should make sure he drove the boy home before daylight…

# # #

Troye woke up late, the distant sounds of his family getting on with their day muffled but clearly audible through his closed door. He stretched and yawned, remembering his odd dream. It had been so vivid! He was no stranger to sexual dreams, of course, that happened any time he wasn't getting enough sex in his waking hours, and being single would do that. But they weren't normally so clear, and he didn't normally wake up with the taste of come in his mouth, or his bum aching from unaccustomed exercise…

He pulled himself out of bed, his stomach grumbling for breakfast, and grabbed fresh clothes from his wardrobe, dressing quickly. He turned to pick up yesterday's dirty washing, to take it down to the laundry as he went, and stared at it – he hadn't worn that brand of cheap blue cotton undershorts in years, he much preferred his silk boxers, had done ever since his first pair, years ago…

A memory surfaced in the depths of his mind, from all those years ago … walking home in the cool pre-dawn of a Perth summer morning, so happy his feet barely touched the footpath, an odd haze in his mind about how he'd got from falling asleep naked in the arms of his beautiful lover to walking, fully dressed, through the next suburb. Troye was pretty sure he hadn't had that memory in his mind yesterday, but here it was, the air crisp in his lungs as the sun rose, its light scarcely brighter than the joy in his heart, the knowledge that even if he never had another night in his perfect lover's arms, he would still, always, be inside him.