Wild and Sweet
by Lorelei Jones
Betaed by the magnificent Gwyn, the marvelous Eliza, and the masterful Em. Yeah, I don't know what's with all the "m"s either. Written for the Love Lucas Challenge, in loving memory of Jonathan Brandis. Rest in peace. Dedicated to D, for giving my website not one, but two overhauls. Because she rocks like that. Title taken from the gorgeous Pablo Neruda poem, "Night on the Island," specifically the sensual line: "wild and sweet you were between pleasure and sleep." Yum. Feedback always welcome.
Three days' liberty in Cuba, and Tim's back at their hotel and Tony's blown them off for some girl. Things couldn't be more perfect, and so Miguel leans over to Lucas and says, "Come with me."
"Where?" Lucas asks, but he's already moving, and Miguel just smiles at him as he leads him out of the bar and into the humid Caribbean night.
Miguel takes them farther from the base, catches the strains of a guitar and follows them to an outdoor cafe where a band plays salsa for the patrons to dance. The music is good and the rhythm is right, so he pulls Lucas forward. Lucas resists, shaking his head.
"Come on, Lucas! Can't come to Cuba and not dance."
"I don't know how to dance. Not like that."
Miguel tilts his head toward a group of women smiling at them. "So ask one of the senoritas to teach you."
Lucas shakes his head again and shrugs Miguel off, but he keeps pace when Miguel moves forward again, and it's not long after Miguel charms his own partner into dancing that Lucas is carefully following the lead of a girl with black silk hair and a blinding smile. Miguel laughs, turns his attention back to the beautiful woman in his arms, and spins with her while her friends cheer them on.
Lucas is just starting to get the hang of it when the rain comes.
The musicians are under an awning and continue to play on, but the women desert them with laughing cries of, "No puede bailar en la lluvia!" They huddle under the awning with the musicians, and beckon Miguel and Lucas to join them with hands the color of caramel and brown sugar. Lucas takes a step toward them, but then Miguel grabs his hand and pulls him back into the dance, shaking the rain out of his own face.
"Miguel, we're gonna get drenched," Lucas shouts up at him, and he can't stop smiling.
"So? We're submariners! Come on, Lucas, follow my lead!"
Lucas does. He even allows a spin like the one with the beautiful woman, and the feel of him in Miguel's arms, the sight of him wet and laughing with shining eyes, is enough to make Miguel want to hold on, kiss him, peel away the layers of sodden clothes until it's skin against skin. Caramel and white sugar and a different kind of dance.
Miguel pulls Lucas away from the cafe, and they leave to a chorus of applause, the women blowing them both kisses. They run through the rain, growing heavier by the moment, and when Miguel pulls Lucas into a side street where they can kiss without being seen, Lucas follows his lead.
Lucas tastes like sugar. Chocolate and oranges and the rum and coke Tony had ordered with their beers so it wouldn't look like he was giving alcohol to an eighteen-year old. He opens his mouth when Miguel licks his lower lip, and the flavor explodes on Miguel's tongue; bite of alcohol and sweet, sweet sugar.
"Bambino dulce," he murmurs against Lucas' lips, and Lucas makes a noise of protest.
Miguel dips down to taste Lucas' jawline, and that's sweet too. "Not what?"
"Not a kid." Lucas sucks in a breath as Miguel reaches his throat, but still manages to get out, "And not sweet."
"You are." Miguel nips at the skin. "Sweet." He licks a line up to Lucas' right ear. "And salty. Bambino dulce. Bebe bonito. Sweet, hot baby."
Lucas shakes his head, but Miguel covers his mouth again so he can't voice any protests. Sweet, slick tongue, and the rain is warm but Lucas is shivering, long lean body shaking in Miguel's arms. He's worried Lucas will shake apart, or maybe melt in the rain, and he doesn't want either thing happening yet.
"Come with me," he says, and draws Lucas farther down the side street, eyes open for the signs of a room to rent for the night.
He finds one only a few blocks down, pays the grey-haired senora and takes the iron key and the wooden stairs to the second floor of a surprisingly charming hacienda. The door opens on a room lit by candles, though there's a light switch on one wall. Single wide bed, turned down sheets, and that's all he needs to see with Lucas held tight at his side, still shaking. He turns his head, presses a kiss to Lucas' mouth, walks him into the room and reaches blindly out to slam the door shut. The rain pounds hard and fast on the roof, and Lucas' heartbeat is nearly as quick.
Miguel breaks the kiss and moves his lips up to Lucas' ear. "Easy, Lucas. No pressure, just wanted you out of the rain."
"And I want this," Lucas insists, twists to catch Miguel's lips with his own again and breathes, "I want it."
Miguel thinks maybe he should insist on Lucas saying what "it," exactly, he wants, but he always liked kissing better than talking and Lucas is very, very good at kissing. He makes himself a promise that he'll stop if Lucas looks even vaguely uncomfortable, then walks backward until he feels the bed pressing against his knees. He falls on the mattress, taking Lucas down with him, and for the longest time just focuses on the connection of mouth to mouth, the feel of a warm, wet body against his, the noises Lucas makes and the way his hands move restlessly from Miguel's arms to his shoulders to his rain-tangled hair. Lucas slides his fingers over Miguel's scalp, long and talented, and they massage away all thoughts but one.
Miguel coaxes one of Lucas' hands down so he can start pulling off Lucas' flannel shirt. One sleeve drags free, and that hand returns to Miguel's scalp while Lucas offers up the other. Miguel pulls that sleeve off so that the shirt drops to the floor, then grabs the hand and raises it to his face. He pulls away from Lucas' mouth long enough to breathe, then turns his head to press a kiss to the center of Lucas' palm. He flicks his tongue out and tastes salt, water, the faint tang of perfume from Lucas' dance partner. Lucas moans, the other hand tightening in Miguel's hair, and Miguel snakes his tongue up to suck the index finger into his mouth.
Lucas bucks against him, hot and wet and hard, and Miguel would smile if he weren't so busy sucking. He slides his free hand up under the loose hem of Lucas' tee-shirt to find warm, soft, mostly dry skin. He presses down, and Lucas bucks again, and he lets Lucas' finger go with a pop, uses both hands to pull Lucas' tee-shirt up over his head and drop it on the floor.
Lucas uses the opportunity to flick buttons free with his unmolested hand, and Miguel leans up to kiss him, taste his neck and shoulder, reaches up to feel the silk slide of skin under his palms, white sugar and honey. Lucas' fingers shake on his shirt, but at last all the buttons are undone and Miguel shrugs it off, pulls Lucas down so they're chest-to-chest, and the kisses start again.
He thinks he could get off on just this, kissing and stroking his hands down Lucas' spine, feeling Lucas' hands in his hair, moving over his shoulders and arms. But he's pretty sure this is a first for Lucas and he thinks it would be nice if they could at least get naked. Besides, he's seen Lucas in a wetsuit. The baggy jeans just aren't cutting it.
He loosens Lucas' belt and unzips his fly, unbuttoning his own while he's down there. Lucas, ever the genius, catches on when Miguel starts wriggling backward. He arches up enough to push his jeans to his knees, then reaches back in a mouth-watering display of agility to tug the legs down over his feet. He grabs Miguel's hems while he's at it, gives them a pull, and both pairs of pants slide free as they move up the bed.
Lucas looks down and laughs breathlessly and Miguel grins. He reaches up to cup Lucas through dark blue boxer briefs, and leans up to purr into his ear, licking the tip while he's at it.
"Like what you see, bebe bonito?"
Lucas is gasping and shivering in his hand, but still manages to turn his head and get out, "How did I know you'd go commando?"
"Thinking about it, were--?" Miguel's turn to gasp and arch as one of those talented hands takes hold and squeezes just. Right. "Madre de dios."
"This was your idea," Lucas points out, "so you have no room to--oh, God."
Miguel pulls him closer, pulls him down, and they're kissing again as he gets his hand inside the boxerbriefs. Gives one pull, two, then takes hold of the waistband and eases it down. Once again, Lucas catches on and manages to maneuver out of his underwear with Miguel's help, without breaking the kiss and without breaking his own hold on Miguel's dick. Miguel is very impressed.
Skin against skin, and he pulls Lucas all the way down, coaxes Lucas to open his hand enough to rub their dicks together. He puts his own hand over Lucas' and shows him how to hold both of them, how to stroke and squeeze just right, until they're gasping into each other's mouths between kisses, rocking the bed, steaming off the rain and getting wet again with sweat. It doesn't take Lucas long at all to stiffen and arch and come, and his breath tastes like sugar and his eyes are huge and blue in the candlelight, almost surprised. Miguel keeps his own eyes open when he comes, groans Lucas' name and kisses him hard, long and sweet. So, so sweet.
They collapse onto the bed. Lucas is still breathing hard and he buries his face against Miguel's throat. Miguel turns his head enough to kiss Lucas' ear, places his sticky hand on the small of Lucas' back and runs the other soothingly down his spine. There's a washroom off the bedroom, Miguel can see the ancient sink through the open door, but he doesn't feel like moving quite yet to clean them up.
The room is theirs for the night, after all, and they're both young. Lucas is kissing his neck now, and it's going to go from feeling nice to feeling really good in just a few minutes. No point in cleaning up yet.
The rain pounds down on the roof. The candles flicker soft light and shadows through the room. Miguel smiles as Lucas breathes a single word against his neck.