Four
Seasons
by DRL
My Dragon is
sitting across the breakfast table from me and I am currently engaged in my
favourite pastime – ‘Wufei watching’. I
pretend to be reading the morning paper, but I turn the pages without glancing
at the newsprint even once. My eyes are
trained on him, watching his every move.
He is not doing anything particularly diverting, just reading some
letters, but I just like to watch him.
Suddenly his eyes swivel toward me and two glittering obsidian jewels
lock with mine. A thrill courses
through my body like a jolt of electric current as our eyes meet. Thirteen and a half years of marriage and he
still has the power to do that to me with just a look. ‘Kushrenada,’ I tell myself, ‘You are an old
fool’. Perhaps, but a lucky old fool.
“What?”
He asks in his light, well-modulated voice. He smiles slightly self-consciously.
‘Nothing,” I reply, “I just like looking
at you.” He rolls his eyeballs
playfully, and returns to his inspection of the morning’s post.
He has just finished his morning workout, and
he is dressed in a muscle vest and sweats.
Utterly delicious. He really is
incredibly petite, for a man. Quite
small in stature (although I would never repeat as much to him) and slim and
wiry of build. I remember how
frightened I was when we first made love, afraid I would crush his tiny body
with mine. That was a long time ago
now, a time that hardly seems real any more.
I was a General in the military and he was a rebel terrorist, and we
were on opposing sides of a bitter and bloody conflict. I shudder again, but this time with horror
at the memory.
He was just
fifteen years old when I took his innocence.
Yes, he had already been married and widowed, but a chaste marriage of
convenience, with no actual consummation.
A child he seemed to me at first, but I soon learned different. That was no child that challenged me to a duel of swords (albeit
unsuccessfully), that was no child who surrendered first his life to me, then
his virtue, and that was definitely no child who drove me to the dizziest
heights of the most exquisite pleasure I had hitherto experienced. My only
explanation for that night was that madness overtook my reason, and if that was
indeed the case, I never recovered. He
cast a spell on me that night, and he continues to weave the enchantment still.
He sits
across from me with nothing on his plate but the pile of letters, sipping from
a cup of coffee. I pick up a warm,
crusty pastry from my plate and, pushing aside the letters, place it onto his.
“Here My
Sweet, try one of these, they are really good.” I say with an encouraging smile, “They are from the new
patisserie in the village.” He looks
across at me, then down at his plate.
He then makes a small but utterly adorable sound in his throat, which
seems to signify acknowledgement of some kind.
He then picks up the pastry and bites into it with a will. That is so typical of him. He will sit at the breakfast table all
morning, and not eat a morsel, but were I
myself to serve him with ten such pastries, he would eat every one. I place another pastry on his plate beside
the remnants of the first, and sure enough, as soon as he has finished the
first one he starts on the second. I
fill his crystal goblet with freshly squeezed orange juice and as I finish
pouring he reaches out for the goblet and raises it to his lips, taking a deep
draft. A moment later he slams it down
on the table with such force that the stem breaks and the bowl of the glass
topples over onto the floor, spilling its contents onto the rug.
“Fucking
bastards!” He suddenly exclaims, screwing the letter he was reading into a ball
and throwing it across the room. His
eyes flash in anger and his breath comes in barely controlled deep, ragged
spurts.
“What is it
Dear Heart, are you hurt?” I ask,
alarmed at his sudden vehemence. I
immediately rise from my seat and rush to his side. I reach for the hand that was holding the glass, from which his
life-blood now drips, forming a slowly spreading stain, stark against the white
linen of the tablecloth. I begin to
inspect the wound.
“Get away
from me.” He hisses, pulling his hand
from mine. I step back and sigh heavily
as I realise that it is going to be ‘one of those
days’.
I love Wufei
to distraction, but even I will admit that he is something of a prickly
pear. When he is in a temperate mood he
is perfectly pleasant and a joy to be with.
However, when he gets angry, and this can happen in the blink of an eye,
it’s time to head for the hills. I
have seen strong men reduced to a jelly with just one glare from an irritated
Wufei. At such times I generally give
him a wide berth, since I am the one who usually comes in for the brunt of his
wrath. He pushes back his chair and
stomps noisily from the room.
I watch him
leave, my brow creased with worry. In
this mood he will not let anyone near him, but judging by the bloodstain on the
tablecloth, he may be quite badly hurt.
I can only hope that he will take care of it properly himself. I stoop to retrieve the crumpled letter,
smooth it out and read it. After doing
so I know exactly why Wufei is so angry.
He is currently studying the archaeological discovery of the ‘Ciudad
Perdida’, an ancient ruined pre-Columbian city, which was discovered some years
ago in the mountains of Northern Colombia, South America. An American university is planning an
archaeological expedition to study the city, 90% of which is still unexplored
and hidden by undergrowth, and Wufei was trying to obtain permission to
accompany the expedition as a lay observer.
This morning’s letter was from the university, turning down his request.
My poor
Wufei – he so wanted to go on this expedition too. I myself have mixed feelings about the whole thing. On the one hand, it seems a very exciting
project and is right up his street, but on the other hand he will be gone for
months and I will miss him so. I ought
not to think of myself at a time like this, but it is difficult not to. Also, Colombia has a terrible problem with
Guerillas, and it is a well-known fact that these Guerillas have hideouts in
the mountainous regions of the north, so there is a distinct element of risk
and danger inherent in the whole expedition.
This is predominantly why the find has not been explored hitherto. I know that Wufei is well able to take care
of himself in this respect, but this knowledge would not stop me from being on
tenderhooks until he returned safely to me, and I have no desire for a month or
two spent chewing my exquisitely manicured fingernails. This notwithstanding, his happiness demands
that I do everything in my power to help him, so I make a mental note to
telephone the Principal of the university.
My fiery Dragon’s pride would never allow him to ask for my help,
although he is well aware that a word from me would settle the matter. I no longer take any active part in matters
political, but I am not without influence in certain quarters, and my advice is
still sought by State heads throughout the world and the Colonies, albeit with
discretion.
Wufei also
misses me when he goes off exploring
into the wild. He has implored me to
accompany him on many occasions. Much
as I like to comply with his every whim, I am steadfast on this point, much to
my Dragon’s frustration and chagrin. It
is all way to exciting and energetic for me.
The only hiking I am interested in is a leisurely stroll around the
grounds and messuages of my own estate, preferably with my love on my arm. Besides, from what Wufei tells me, one is
required to endure a certain degree of ‘slumming’ on these trips and that I
certainly am not prepared to undergo. I
mean to say, week after week without a decent drop of Burgundy? Unthinkable!
+++++++++++++++++++
I lay down
my secateurs, slip my hand from within the heavy canvas glove and swipe at the
moisture bedewing my brow. The sun is
low in the sky and I guess that it is late in the afternoon. Wufei did not join me for lunch so I assumed
that he was still brooding and so left him alone. He has had long enough now, however, and I think that some
tentative overture might be in order. I
take a step back, the better to inspect the rose bush I have been dead-heading. I select the largest and most perfect of the
blood-red blooms, retrieve my secateurs and snip it off, leaving a long
stem. I remove the thorns from the stem
and carry my prize back into the house.
I know that
Wufei will be in his study. Although I
tend leave him alone during his fits of temper, I am always aware of him in a
general sense. This house is large and
has many rooms, but the staff have been briefed to keep a weather-eye open at
such times. By no means have they been
instructed to spy on him, it’s just that I feel better if I know where he is
and what he is up to, just in case.
It’s not really that big a deal because his movements follow a very well
established pattern. After one of his
hissy fits he will either go to his exercise room, to his study or to the
library. These are his domains. Occasionally he will take one of those
infernal sports cars of his out and terrorise the local lanes and byways. I hate it when he does this because I worry
for his safety. I know him to be a
perfectly competent driver, but I cannot vouch for the other drivers he is
likely to encounter. It’s even worse
when he takes that Harley Davidson motorcycle I purchased for him in a moment
of weakness. He loves to ride around on
it at breakneck speed, but he refuses to wear any form of protective
clothing. I shudder at the thought.
I push open
the study door and step into the room.
Sure enough, Wufei is seated at his desk, the desktop strewn with open
textbooks. He looks up as I enter, but
says nothing, his expression unreadable.
I walk up to the desk, place the rose across the pages of the book he is
currently studying, turn round and leave the room, pulling the door closed
behind me. I then make my way to the
library, where the early editions of the evening papers will have been laid out
for me and a bottle of something from the cellar uncorked and left to breath,
awaiting my pleasure. I take a seat in
an armchair by the huge fireplace, which is empty at this time of year, pour
myself a glass of the wine (a good claret), and select one of the newspapers
that have been arranged on a low table well within reach. I begin to browse through the newspaper, but
I do not get very far. Before too long
the door opens and Wufei walks in. He
crosses the room with short, mincing steps and climbs into my chair. He practically curls up in my lap, places
his sinewy arms around my neck and lays his head on my shoulder. I drop the newspaper onto the floor and
enfold him in my arms, holding him close.
Neither of us says a word, he just nuzzles my neck and I soothingly
stroke his silken hair.
“I love
you.” He finally murmurs.
“I love you
too My Sweet.” I reply. I place a kiss onto his hair. “How is your hand?” I ask with concern. He gives a small chuckle.
“It hurts a
bit.” He replies. He raises his head and holds his injured
hand out for me to see. The wound has
indeed been expertly tended and dressed.
“Poor
baby.” I say as he settles back down
and snuggles closer against me. As his
small, firm body moves against mine I feel a stirring in the region of my
crotch. I smile to myself and tighten
my arms about him, drawing him closer to me.
It never takes much with Wufei.
“Thank-you
for the rose, it was beautiful.” He
says, raising his head again and fixing me with those mesmerising eyes of his.
“Yes it
was.” I reply. “A beautiful rose for my beautiful Dragon.”
“I saw you
in the garden today.” He says. “I watched you for a bit.”
“You should
have come out to join me.” I tell
him. “It was too lovely a day to spend
indoors.”
“I
know.” He replies. “I was going to, but the Colonies manuscript
deadline is fast approaching, so I thought it best to put in some work first,
before pleasure. I’ve almost finished
the manuscript, so now I’ve earned my pleasure.”
He raises
his lips to mine, but before our lips meet his pink little tongue darts into my
open mouth and begins a deep and thorough exploration. We kiss deeply and passionately, while Wufei
unwinds one of his arms from around my neck and proceeds to unfasten the
buttons of my shirt. He pushes the
shirt from my body, exposing one shoulder and a good portion of chest and runs
his fingertips across the exposed flesh in the lightest of caresses. His touch causes me to moan into his mouth,
and he takes the opportunity to delve even deeper into the moist cavern of my
mouth. His questing fingers find a
already hardening nipple and give it a light but firm tweak. This results in a sudden jolt of pleasure
which causes an involuntary spasm to wrack my body. This spasm almost ejects Wufei from my lap, and puts a sudden end
to a most enjoyable kiss, which was not at all what I wanted to happen. Wufei however is undeterred. He quickly rises to his feet and, with eyes
heavy-lidded with lust, he takes my hand and leads me from the room. I know exactly where we are going, and I
follow him wordlessly.
He flings
wide the door of our magnificent bedroom suite and draws me in, turning and
attacking my mouth before I even have time to close the door behind me. I manage to push it shut with my foot just
before I gather him into my arms and carry him to the bed. I throw him into the midst of the profusion
of pillows and cushions thereon, and stand there at the edge of the bed,
looking at him, my hands on my hips and an evil smirk playing about my lips.
“Well my
Dragon,” I ask him as I complete the removal of the shirt that he had begun
downstairs in the library, “Now that you have brought me here, what is it you
want of me?” He smiles impishly at me,
his eyes still narrowed and hazy with lust.
“I want you
to fuck me into this mattress.” He
purrs.
“I daresay,”
I reply with forced nonchalance. It is
all I can do to keep from throwing myself upon him and doing just that. The little minx knows exactly what his
talking dirty does to me, “But,” I continue, “What is in it for me?”
“This.” He replies in a voice as soft as velvet, and
crawls slowly across the bed towards me on his hands and knees. He stops in front of me and proceeds to
unfasten my belt buckle. At the same
time he takes one of my nipples, already firm and jutting, into his mouth and
suckles hard. Needless to say, it takes
all of my strength to remain standing at this juncture. His hands, never idle at such times, are
busy unfastening my trousers and freeing my rigid erection. Once free he releases the nipple and looks
down at my engorged penis. He then looks
up at me with guileless eyes, immediately schooling his features from the unbridled
lust of a second ago to the innocent and wide-eyed gaze of a child.
“My, aren’t we excited about something?” He says with mock wonder. He reaches hesitantly for my shaft, as
though he has never seen such a thing before.
Then he slowly lowers his head and takes it in his mouth, maintaining
eye contact with me the whole time, only taking his eyes from mine as the
swollen tip slowly disappears into his mouth.
He takes in only the first inch or two, then slowly withdraws while
sucking hard, his innocent eyes locking with mine again. He does this a few times, then withdraws
completely and smiles up at me with the delight of a child who has just been
given a new toy. All the while he is
pumping at my penis with a slow but steady rhythm, exerting a firm pressure
while he does so. Still looking and
smiling at me he lowers his head again and this time he flicks his tongue once,
twice, three times over the swollen head, then slowly runs his tongue up and
down the shaft. He then pushes the
shaft to one side, lowers his head slightly, eyes still fixed on mine and
lightly grazes the skin of my scrotum with his teeth. Beyond this however, he goes no further since I am rather
hypersensitive in this area.
Then as
quickly as it appeared, his wide-eyed and innocent façade dissolves. With a toss of his head his hair swirls and
cascades around his shoulders with rakish abandon, his eyes take on a lustful insouciance, his lips, swollen from
kissing, form a coquettish pout, and suddenly it’s ‘all change’ again. He quickly tears his eyes from mine, opens
his mouth wide and takes me down, all the way to the hilt. I have no idea how he manages to do this. I am definitely not what one would call
‘genitally challenged’ but he still manages to deep-throat me somehow. Seeing my entire penis going into that tiny
mouth of his never ceases to amaze me (not to mention arouse me) – it’s like Dr
Who and the Tardis. He works his
deep-throat magic on me for some little time since he knows how much I enjoy
it, the look of it giving almost as much pleasure as the feel of it. Wufei is indeed a master of this particular
craft. By this time am in Nirvana, but
I know I will soon be called upon to do a little work. To coin a rather coarse phrase, Wufei likes
for me to fuck his mouth. I know that
it is time because he is cupping the globes of my buttocks with his hands and
pulling me forward. I hold his head
steady with my hands, enmeshing my fingers in that glorious hair, and proceed
to thrust forward with my hips, thus effectively…, well, fucking his
mouth. He likes this good and hard, so
I give it to him good and hard, but I don’t want to come into his mouth, not
this time anyway, so after a short while I stop and withdraw. Wufei gives an irritated little moan as I
do so, and tries to hold me in position, but I effortlessly pull away from him.
“Just a
second my impatient little Dragon.” I
admonish him as he sits back on his haunches and pouts for all he is
worth. I hurriedly kick off my trousers
and underwear, which were pooled around my ankles and remove my socks, and I am
pleased to observe Wufei removing his clothes too. I then turn my attention back to him. “Right then young man, up on your hands and knees.” I command
him. He turns his back to me and he
slowly lowers his upper body so that the golden globes of his gorgeous ass are
bared to my hungry gaze.
“Beautiful!” I murmur as I lean
in closer. I run my palms lightly over
the surface of the flawless skin of his buttocks before spreading my hands and
grasping each cheek firmly, but not so firm as to cause pain. I clench and released several times, gently
kneading the soft flesh until Wufei moans softly with pleasure. Sinking to my knees, I then part the two
hemispheres, widening the cleft and exposing the puckered opening with its
aureole of slightly darker skin. I run
my tongue lightly up and down the moist valley, moistening it still
further. Wufei’s moans increase in
volume, and he begins to writhe in ecstasy, murmuring incoherent phrases. I then probe at the opening with my tongue,
pushing in as far as I can with Wufei aiding my entry by pushing against
me. I probe long and deep since this is
the only preparation that he will receive; my horny little Dragon is none too
fond of fingers up ‘there’. Just before
I withdraw my tongue I press my face into Wufei’s ass, push my tongue in deep
and hum out loud. Wufei lets out a
squeal of delight and I chuckle softly.
I then withdraw my tongue and rise to my feet.
I pull Wufei up roughly by the arms, turn him
over and throw him down on the bed on his back. As he bounces up and down on the springy mattress, he smiles
broadly and spreads his legs wide in invitation. He knows well what is coming.
Sometimes I give it to him gently and sometimes I give it to him
rough. Today he is going to get it
rough, and by the smile on his face that’s just fine with him. I spit copiously into my hand and use the
saliva to coat my penis, pumping up and down as I do so. We never use commercial lubricants – too
messy and too slippery. It’s either
saliva or nothing. I climb onto the
bed, and kneel looming over Wufei, marvelling for the millionth time at how
tiny he is in comparison to me.
He raises his arms, catches me around the
neck and pulls me down to him in a heated kiss. Our tongues war with each other even as our erections are crushed
together between our bodies. Wufei
spreads his legs and crosses his ankles together at the small of my back,
latching our bodies together. He then
begins to roll his hips, thus grinding our penises together. The resulting friction is heavenly, but much
more of this will finish us both off so I break the kiss and roughly separate
my body from his. I then place my hands
under his knees and force them up to his chest. I grab a pillow and place it beneath his buttocks to aid his
comfort. I know I said rough, but I
can’t bear to think of him being in any discomfort so I cop out a little
here. I then position my penis at his
opening and thrust forward quickly. He
cries out, but not in pain. I hesitate
for a moment, but when he wriggles his buttocks in an impatient gesture, I
withdraw almost completely and thrust forward again, with considerable
force. He cries out again, and again
each time I repeat the motion.
I lower his
legs and rest them over my spread thighs.
Without breaking my rhythm I bend to kiss him, but in this position my
strokes are perforce shallower as I cannot thrust forward with such force as
before, since it is impossible for me to withdraw far enough first. However, in this position I can stimulate
his prostate and I do so mercilessly.
He screams my name in his ecstasy and entreats me to stop. Not a chance of it! I pull out of him and scramble quickly to
the floor. I stand at the edge of the
bed, pull him roughly toward me, throw his legs over my shoulders and enter
again. Once again I establish a swift
rhythm, pulling out to the tip and thrusting in deep and hard. In this position I can easily grab hold of
Wufei’s erection and pump my hand up and down, in time with my thrusts. I need only do this a few times before Wufei
reaches the limit of his endurance.
With a keening wail his small body shudders as jets of hot, thick semen
spill forth. Having achieved my aim I
thrust two or three more times before I release my own seed into his willingly
receptive body with a strangled cry.
I
immediately withdraw my rapidly softening penis and attend to Wufei. I grab a handful of tissues from a box on
the nightstand and wipe away any errant drops of semen from his body. I then gather him up in my arms, throw back
the soiled coverlet and lay him down onto the clean, cool sheet. I lie down beside him and enfold him in my
arms. He sighs contentedly and snuggles
against me. We lie together, weary,
sated and blissfully happy.
My Wufei is
a paradox. He can change from a syrupy
sweetheart to a billowing stormcloud, from a lusty sexpot to a curious ingénue
in a heartbeat, and I absolutely love it.
I never know where I am with him from one moment to the next and quite
frankly, I don’t want to know. I
wouldn’t have it any other way. Some
people say that I spoil him. Perhaps I
do but he’s happy and I’m happy, so where’s the harm? Anyway, his bark is much worse than his bite. I scribbled a little poem about him the
other day. It goes as follows:
With his smile as sweet as a warm wind in summer
He’s got me flying like a bird in a bright June sky
And just when he thinks that I’ve got his number
Brings me down to the ground with his wintry eye
That’s my baby, he can be all four seasons in one day
And when nightime comes with no interference
To our warm summer love with all its charms
But like a thoroughbred horse he can turn on a sixpence
And I find that I’m back in Mr Winter’s arms
That’s my baby, he can be all four seasons in one day
How will I know?
How can I tell?
Which side of the bed he’ll take when the day begins?
He can be kind
He can be cruel
He’s got me guessing like a gameshow fool
He can change his mind like he changes his sweater
From one minute to the next it’s hard to tell
He blows hot and cold just like stormy weather
He’s my gift from the lord or a fiend from hell
That’s my baby, he can be all four seasons in one day
Watching the weatherman’s been no good at all
Winter, spring summer, I’m bound for a fall
There are no long term predictions for my baby
He can be all four seasons in one day
(lyrics ‘All four seasons’ by Sting)