#myinnerstorms

Although it hurt to hear those words, Cyrus could compartmentalise some of what he said to be accepted and understood. It still ached. There was still a lump in his throat. That sense of abandonment and betrayal still lingered in his mind. Thoughts broiled and bubbled into questions and doubt; Do you actually want me? Do you just want to fuck me? If you leave me again, I'll end you. No, I won't do that. Just don't hurt me again. He's gonna leave me again. Don't you fucking leave me again. The arms he had secured around the petite frame of the man loosened their grip when he turned on the spot to face him. This was indeed the first time they had seen each other naked, and although Cyrus did have some body image issues, regarding the amount of scarred flesh and fresh bruises on his herculean, broad physique, all his worries melted away when he made eye contact with him. That rugged, stocky deity that had tugged at his heartstrings. A man so beautiful, so pure, so innocent. Naturally, Cyrus often felt like the protector when he was surrounded by friends or lovers. But with Dante? With Dante, it was a very different atmosphere. Although their height and stature was vastly different, the warlock felt quite small; so much so that he even to come down to a knee and lovingly embrace the man, hold him close to him and worship every inch of his frame. Head to toe. But he refrained from doing so. At least visually, Cyrus maintained a semblance of dominion and dominance.

The hand to his chest had him taking a deep breath, the lids of his eyes falling shut to wallow in the sensation of being touched, to then hummingly comfortably when lips pressed and brushed against his own. As the lock of their lips and swirling of their tongues began, Cyrus found himself unable to stop his shoulders from tensing. Though it was short-lived, for when Dante ran both hands up to them, he felt at ease, like a sudden weight had been tipped right out of his shoulders. Skin turned to goosebumps in the areas that his lovers hands would pass. A few moans managed to even rumble from the depths of his chest to vocalise his enjoyment. Eventually, their kiss came to an end and his attention came down between their bodies. The alarm in his gasp and facial expressions got Cyrus' attention quickly, and a light smile crept on his face when he realised why.

"Now-now, why would I use a spell?" In that moment, arms and hands fell away from Dante. Cyrus set them behind his back, one hand clasping into the opposite wrist, standing in the enormity of his size, eyes down to watch the man's hand feeble attempt at wrapping his hand fully around its sheer fat girth. It amused him to see Dante so shocked and surprised, but not completely horrified. "That's all me, baby... cock au naturale," he said, in an excellent French accent. Cyrus didn't want to boast about his rather gifted endowment: he never did it, and he wasn't about to start now, so he didn't feel compelled to warn his dear friend that his length was still in its flaccid, limp state. That was something Dante would soon learn. "You could have been sucking on this, and getting fucked by it, all these months." His tone of voice was no longer jovial and light. The smiles faded.

On his way home, he had stopped by a store to collect a bouquet of roses, a variety of boxes of chocolates and a new bottle of lubricant. He knew they were running low, so he piled seven of the larger bottles into his basket. The cashier shooting him a look of suspicion and shock, but evidently laughed it off when Cyrus commented that he wanted to explore all the flavours, even though the truth of the matter was that this entire collection of sexual lubricant would all be empty within a month.

He drove quickly, but safely, back home. By the time he had arrived, it was rather late, and noticing how there was not a single light on in his home, he figured Dante had taken himself to sleep. Cyrus entered his home and locked it behind him, removing his shoes and taking to the stairs, three steps at a time, with roses in his grip, boxes of chocolate in one arm, and lubricants in the other. When he came to the master bedroom, he opened the door to find his beloved on his bed, looking so petite on the gigantic bedspread. He could admit he was used to seeing his partner naked by now, but that would be a lie. That broad and slender back, that smooth swell and the robust nature of his ass, thick durable thighs spread out, cock visible beneath him. The visual alone had Cyrus biting his lower lip to stifle his groan upon feeling his cock twitch.

Large, padded feet took him to the edge of the bed, where he dumped the chocolates and bottles at the ottoman at the foot of the bed-frame. He pulled out a single, long-stem red rose from the bouquet. To get himself comfortable first, he removed his shirt, tossed it carelessly aside, next came his socks and then his jeans, leaving him in nothing but the tight material of boxer briefs that kept things comfortable and taut. Though, as he stepped to sit at the edge of the bed with the single rose, he adjusted himself quickly. The warlock dipped down to secure his lips to his temples, a simple yet affectionate way to display his love and adoration for the demi-god. When Dante didn't stir awake, he swept the bud of the rose along the features of his face; bearded jawline, cheeks and forehead, down into his neck and shoulders. The soft red petals brushed along the smooth, tan skin with a light rustling. Cyrus took his sweet-time dragging it along the curvature of his spine. Asides from Dante's beautiful face, and his large fat ass, and his thick thighs, impressive cock, tight abs and powerful pecs, his back was a part of his body that Cyrus tended to praise a lot. But evidently, not as much as Dante's rear, as when Cyrus gradually twirled the flower further south, he watched carefully with curious eyes as he moved it over the surface of his globes, before sweeping it between the valley. Thankfully, the thorns on the stems had been removed, so there was no chance of causing any injury, just a comfortable flutter of rose petals sweeping along sensitive, warm skin. Cyrus didn't want to wake him, but on the other hand, he didn't want to fall asleep knowing Dante had felt like he wasn't here for him.