He’d imagined taking his time with this.  A long, quiet night.  The windows open so the sound of the waves washing up along the nearby shoreline could drift in on the lazy breeze.  Alex writhing in slow, deep pleasure for hours.  It was perhaps too much of a dreamlike fantasy that belonged in some movie.  Real sex was rarely so glamourous.  It was primal.  Visceral.  It was to satisfy the longing for pleasure, to both gain and derive it from another living being.<br/><br/>For Andreas, it was much like killing.<br/><br/>Another tug on his hair, another plea.  No matter how innocent he came across, Alex was no virgin.  Nor was he particularly innocent.  He’d only recently killed a man, hadn’t he?  Andreas had steadied his hand, guided his aim, but it was Alex who had pulled the trigger.  Patricide had never been so sexy.<br/><br/>And Andreas knew that appearances could be deceiving.  Alex was like him in that way, though perhaps more so.  He was beautiful, like a girl, but he was a grown man who knew what he wanted.  An impatient one who Andreas would gladly accommodate.<br/><br/>“If you’re ready,” he agreed, pulling his fingers free.  Andreas even debated upping the intensity with more friction, but he’d caught the little wince of pain.  Alex wasn’t quite ready for that.  So he took up the bottle again and slicked himself before planting a hand on the back of Alex’s thigh.  As long as he’d waited to get the other blond in his bed, he was going to take every pleasure he could, and that included getting a good view.  “Blush for me again,” he teased, his voice deep, dripping with desire.  “I want to enjoy it while I can.  Pretty soon, you’ll be all too used to me seeing you like this, and I won’t be able to get such a reaction.”  He pulled the smaller body to angle Alex’s hips just right, biting down on his own lip as he pushed inside with a low groan of pleasure.