Ninth Chapter!! I've got my special Chapter 9 hat on, and my piece of ninth chapter cake in front of me as I begin to write this. Everybody has been so nice about this story, even though I'm stringing it out forever!! Sorry to all the people who I seem to have given headaches over waiting and waiting for the story's inevitable denouement, well one of them anyways, and sorry that this hasn't come out sooner, but I've had annoying writer's block.
Disclaimer: I don't know him, okay? I admit it! We aren't getting married, I'm not carrying his child, and Britney isn't a close personal friend and my last single bombed in the charts! This is fiction, therefore none of the following words hold any verity what so ever, and they do not mean to imply anything about the mentioned celebrities true sexualities, personalities and fragilities. Oh, Justin is really attractive though, but Britney is just ugly in real life. (Damn jealousy...)
If you aren't one for fast men, fast cars and fast living then you'll probably like this story. If, however, you hate long, drawn-out storylines, angst and love, male/male relationships and annoying British people who think they could possibly bag Justin Timberlake with their charms alone, then go away and leave me to indulge myself with my own insanity.
On va danser
Something Like Justin Chapter 9- Edging
The buttery, low Sun hailed the fanfare of crushing gravel as the car swept up to the house with Justin and I behind the windshield. Disembarking the car and bounding to the entrance door, my legs complaining fiercely at the exertion whilst Justin seemed unaffected by the previous four hours of running around on a court, our arms and faces shone discreetly with sweat.
The accumulated forms of Social Invalid were now complete, distributed eccentrically around and over the lounge furniture, with the addition of Chris Kirkpatrick, Justin Timberlake and a man who was a stranger to me. Chris looked up at us as we entered.
"Mystery solved." He said brightly.
"Sorry? Was somebody looking for me?" I creased my brow, but smiling insanely as a result of exhaustion.
"We just wondered where you'd got to." Ash shrugged.
"We did think that you were with Ryan..." Emily trailed off.
"I don't think we've met." Justin said loudly to the stranger, putting on his best smile.
"Chris, Justin..." Joe began, "This is Seb."
"Hi..." I nodded vaguely at him.
"Hello," He grinned widely, his icy blue eyes glowing in the rays of sunlight pushing into the room as he looked from myself to Justin. His voice was clipped, like a continental, European accent.
"Seb plays bass." Joe stressed.
"Oh? Really?" I sat down on the floor, encouraging Justin to do the same, "Are you in a band at the moment?"
"No. The others were just explaining to me the vacancy you will have."
"Right." I smiled, "Do you mind me asking where you're from?"
"Oh, I was born in Essen, Germany."
"Really?"
"I met Seb when I went to Berlin a few years back." Joe offered.
Chris coughed loudly and stood up importantly, shaking out his tee, crumpled lightly around his chest where Emily had been laying against him.
"Curly, we had better go." He narrowed his eyes at Justin, but his voice remained light and frivolous, "There's still a few things we need to sort out, and we'll need to be up early."
"Right." Justin looked at me briefly, the fireflies of concern burning in his eyes.
I nodded and smiled at him.
"So, I'll see y'all soon." Justin announced brightly to the room.
"Sure." Emily grinned, "Can't wait."
"Call me." I shrugged, blushing mildly after those two, cliché-laden words.
"Sure." Justin smiled, and then seemed to shake himself serious again.
The retreating forms left an uncomfortable silence on the room, as I felt the outsider. Seb cleared his throat,
"So, are you guys going to show me the nightlife in this desert?"
"Um...sure." Ash forced a smile.
It must have been hard for her, knowing that this guy may just be her replacement. As much as she wanted to leave the band, I guess it was still like her property or something. The night dissolved into the kaleidoscope reality of swirling points of light, moving bodies, sweat, drugs, soil and sleep, as our memories were painted and tainted by the carousel of Los Angeles nightlife.
"Hello?" Damn telephone.
"Err...hi." Justin.
"Oh, hi." I cleared my throat, occupied with viscous saliva, "How's you doing?"
"Um...good." He chuckled lightly.
"How are things with you and the rest of the guys?"
"Good. I talked to them." He sighed, "They are still kinda pissed and won't let me out of their sight."
"Sounds like they're concerned."
"They look after me." He coughed, "I guess they care for me more than I give them credit for."
"Maybe." I yawned lightly.
"You just woken up?"
"I fell asleep shortly." I explained tightly.
"Oh, right."
A worn, predictable silence hovered over the connection, infecting our brains with awkwardness and anxiety.
"It's my birthday soon."
His birthday? Really? Already? Well, I guess that the weeks have gone by.
"You warning me so I get you something nice?" I laughed.
"Um...no. Well, yes, that too..." I could hear glockenspiel laughter, "I wondered if you and the others want to come over for a party?"
"Ooh, party." I savoured the prospect, "Where's it at?"
"Err, it's going to be in Orlando."
"Oh..." I sighed, "But I'm in LA."
"Yes." He was chewing. Reluctant?
"So...we can't really afford to fly over."
"I was going to suggest that I pay for a couple of tickets."
"Go on then."
"I'll pay for a couple of plane tickets." He laughed.
"Well, who would get them?" I wondered aloud.
"You get one."
"Aha."
"Chris will pay for Emily."
"Just one left."
"I was thinking Ash, 'cause she's leaving an' all."
I drummed my fingers on the armchair impatiently. I wanted an idea. It was unfair that only a few people could go. I wandered around the living room aimlessly, craning my neck to look out of the large windows every so often, waiting for the carrier pigeon to fly over and drop an idea on my head. Then, gleaming seductively in the corner of my eye, the mulberry vixen winked a headlamp at me.
"We could take the Buick!"
"Huh?" Justin coughed as I broke into the small talk ha had been issuing throughout my mental dalliance, "What you on dog?"
Rolling my eyes at his pseudo-ghetto tune, I elaborated.
"We could all come up in Steph's car; her Buick. It'd be ideal!"
"Sounds like a road trip." Justin whistled.
"Oh, Ryan drove it over here from NYC before..."
"Did he?" His words were tight and impatient.
"Does it still bother you?" I blurted out, "Sorry; I wasn't meant to say that."
"Whatever." He coughed lightly, "The road trip sounds a great idea; that way you can all come."
The details were to be sent by email, as I'm notoriously bad at connecting pen with notepad, so we signed off with token farewells.
The proposition of an impromptu road trip seemed to catch everyone's attention nicely, even though Emily grumbled and said that she was going to take the opportunity of airline comfort at Chris's expense. Following the freeing up of a seat, I discovered my fingers tapping out the melody of Ryan's phone number. He agreed to come with us and I felt like I was doing everything right for once.
Informing our management of this Lilliputian adventure, as always they found it possible to shoehorn some work into our schedule. We were required to play a small venue for a couple of hours the night before Justin's birthday, which was going to only be announced a couple of days before the date. I looked forward to it, as did the rest of the band, as playing to a television audience had become very boring as they were quite unresponsive and at a gig you could reach out to the people listening, so it was a shared experience, rather than just an exposition.
We were to stay in an average quality hotel for a few days in Orlando, giving us ample time to shop for birthday treats, and have a nose around in a city that was unknown to us. The days in between the telephone conversation with Justin and the day we were to leave passed effortlessly by as we filled our time with a couple of interviews, performances and some consultations on the final album cover designs.
"I'm don't see how we're going to fit our luggage in there." Steph eyed the open trunk of the car with doubt.
"Hmm..." Ash mused, flicking her delicately painted eyes from her bag to the trunk, as we stood searching her face for some words of wisdom, "...hmm."
She looked back at our wide eyes and pronounced,
"What?"
"I'm sure we can manage..." Joe smiled encouragingly.
"I could stay here." The murmur leaked into my earlobe like molten rubies from the lips, cheeks and face pressed to the back of my head.
"Like I'm going to let you?" I mumbled back, "If clothes take up that much room then we will all have to go naked."
"Ha!" Ryan tightened his hold around my waist, "Justin would be impressed..."
"I doubt it." I leaned back into him, "I think the novelty would wear off rather quickly..."
"Sure it would." Ryan said sagely into my neck.
"Would you two stop wanking around and help?" Joe commanded angrily, but allowing a sparkle of humour to infect his dark eyes.
"Jealous." I giggled.
"Sure I am!" He laughed.
We piled our bags into the car and slammed the trunk closed recklessly, and I was relieved that I hadn't packed anything that wouldn't spring back in form once the trunk was opened again.
"Good thing we're waiting until we get to Orlando before we buy presents." Ryan stressed, his eyes watching the collection of luggage as it compressed under the metal.
The broad, silent road pulled away in front of the whispering motor, and stretched back behind, bleeding slowly up into the clear, star- stung night sky. The patient face of the moon cast its nonchalant glow about the desert, covering every shadow with a grey film, spilling its celestial serenity on the landscape. Ryan was driving, my eyes intent upon him, chattering noisily every so often, partly afraid that he would droop his head and snooze. I couldn't drive, so I elected myself the insomniac to keep the drivers awake. I never had much trouble resisting the weight of my eyelids, the aching in my shoulders and the liquid images in my imagination, so I kept my eyes open.
Phoebus had driven his chariot and its flaming herd to settle in the dry crust of the desert horizon hours before, leaving the canopy of night to cloak the earth and drip its dreams into the vulgar minds of the gentle breathing. The radio crackled dirtily and softly in the car, absorbing into the leather seats and wooden dashboard, playing a stream of echoing, stuttering rock songs.
I sat for ages, my sleep fringed eyes criss-crossing intricately over the smooth surface of Ryan's face as he stared intently at the road ahead, every so often clocking the mirrors, although it was unnecessary on this dormant plateau.
"Damn," Ryan yawned lightly, "I hope one of the guys wake up soon."
"I thought you'd be used to this by now." I smiled.
"Cheeky," He grinned lazily, "Maybe we can find a motel or something."
"I reckon Ash should be awake soon; she's been asleep for hours."
I cast my gaze over the comical, huddled forms propping one another up in the back of the Buick, resembling a row of fleshy dominoes, caught mid-fall. A slight trail of saliva glistened as it dried on Ash's jaw, stopped only moments before it would have soaked into the beige cotton of Joe's t-shirt.
"So, you had any more ideas?" Ryan blinked.
"Present-wise?" He supplied a nod, "Still not too sure. I don't really know him well enough, you know?"
"Just get him something relatively expensive. I'm sure that will do." He suggested banally.
"I hate birthdays." I sighed, and then laughed, "Except my own."
"You've got a whole nine months before mine so you can plan my present now if you like." He smiled.
"When is it?"
"September the 10th."
"Oh...oh, oh my god." I frowned, "That must have been so weird, last year, with the whole twin towers thing."
"Yeah...I mean, it made me feel guilty, 'cause, like, the day before...it made me feel selfish I guess." His face smoothed out any laughter lines and stared blankly at the road ahead.
"It was so strange to watch it...people keep saying it was like a movie, and I guess that shows something about modern times in the West. It's like the only thing we can attribute a disaster to is a leisure activity. It's sad, I guess."
"But you can't deny it was kinda unreal." Ryan considered, "Especially for us Americans. We're not used to that shit."
"No...I remember Rudolf Juliani said he, I don't know, took some comfort from the Battle of Britain and stuff...But I assure you, if something like that happened today...the British wouldn't be prepared for it."
"The West is complacent. We've felt safe for so long..."
"I mean, there are loads of terrorist bombings by the IRA in big, English cities, and places in Northern Ireland, but they still are a shock."
A silence descended over us, the humble disruption of the radio occupying the conversation vacuum diligently. The vast sky had lightened, infected by a pinkish, vermilion glow as the fire of the Sun encroached on the land.
"Sunrise." Ryan announced softly, switching off the radio and gazing at the reluctant star, rising gradually into the scene.
A ruffling of fibres behind us hailed Ash's waking. A grandiose sigh, stretch and grumble broke the thin atmosphere and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the shoulders of the seats.
"Hey kids."
"Fancy a drive?" Ryan asked brightly; brighter than he was feeling I could see from the grey in his eyes.
"Hmm..." Ash mused, "Sure. I'll wake Steph so you two can sleep..." She grinned wickedly, "...or whatever."
The Buick glided serenely to the side of the road, paused as we sorted ourselves into our new positions, then pulled away once more. I shifted myself closer to Ryan, relaxing into his loose embrace and allowing the veil of sleep to gently lower upon me.
Stirring from the violent bliss of my dreaming, the cool, softening reality of the interior of the Buick fragmented into focus. The grip around my shoulder tightened, bringing my eyes to connect with Ryan's.
"Evening." He smiled, his eyes a clear, deep blue.
"It is?" I grinned crookedly, noting the dimness of the surroundings.
"Uh huh," He nodded dumbly, curving his face down to mine and chastely kissing my forehead.
"We're going to rest up in a motel." The discreet cough and information was supplied by Ash, her tone heavy and lax.
Even though I had just missed daylight completely, the idea of a bed was very inviting. The other three had been awake all day, mostly since Ryan and I had retreated to the back of the car, so the majority were tired and grumbling. I, perversely, was feeling fresh as a daisy, but was wise, and slovenly, enough to keep my state a secret.
The sprawling, one storey collection of forms that signified a motel soon materialised around a gentle bend in the interstate, complete with an ostentatious, cloud cursing sign, woven with neon and dominated by a cartoon mascot. Joe slipped inside to sort out our rooms, becoming very animated with the sloth-spoken receptionist who kept peeking out at us between the greasy, off-white bars of the Venetian blinds, as he detailed our company. Nevertheless, Joe soon walked jubilantly from the glass pen, keys raised triumphantly.
He jangled them in celebration before our faces, as we eagerly reached for them, but he held them back, making a stern face and announcing in a nasal voice,
"Now, now children. Let's act in a civilised manner, or none of you will be getting any sweets."
"I want sweets!" Ryan moaned.
"Now, Ash can share with Steph."
"You got double rooms?" Steph inquired.
"Yep. Cheaper, except one single room."
"Ooh, we got a double!" Ryan grinned at me.
"Fuck that," I smiled, "You can sleep on the floor, and I'll have BOTH beds."
"Now, now." Joe kept up the charade, "Will I have to keep you an eye on you all night?"
"Like you wont anyways." I smirked.
"Look, you get a double room, so I get a peep show, right?" Joe laughed evilly and skipped off with his key, pursued by Ash and Steph with their bags.
"Shall we?" Ryan waved the key in my face as he extracted our things from the car.
"Sure." I agreed, taking my bag from him.
The room was basic, but sufficient, the threadbare curtains letting in the glow of the piercing security lights from outside and the coverlets more than likely to give someone a headache on a sunny day. The bathroom was out of a door to the back of the room, the two, generously sized beds pushed against a wall adjacent. I dropped my bag onto the bed nearest the bathroom door, and fell back onto its springy mattress.
"Looks good." Ryan approved from his position near the entrance.
"It's okay..." I mused, "Though I don't like the carpet."
"I wasn't talking about the room." He commented in a soft tone.
Needless to say, I blushed, sitting upright immediately and retreating to the bathroom. I shut the door before realising that I didn't have any of my shit with me. Flushing more with embarrassment than shyness, I returned to the room and hunted through my bag for my shower gel and toothpaste.
Ryan was sitting patiently on the other bed, looking at me rush through my possessions with a slight amusement. His eyes made my skin feel hot and liquid, but I needed to take a shower after grinding the dirt of the day into my flesh in the oven-like car. A shower. But that meant he would see me naked. Okay, half-naked. What could happen...?
"I'm gonna take a shower." I volunteered.
"Right, I guessed." He grinned, "Want me to..."
"No!" I said, almost loud enough for Joe to hear through the thin motel walls in the next room, "No, I was going to say...I'm not-I'm not ready for...y'know."
"Yes?" He smiled.
I felt so childish, even if he wasn't being too cooperative; that smile originated from mischief.
"Look. I think we should just...sleep."
"Okay." He said lightly.
"Okay." I agreed somewhat confused.
The rhythm of the shower muffled the sounds of the World from my ears, and the warm fingers of water eased away the grime and tension of the journey, leaving my muscles and skin awake. I dried myself off, making a face in the small mirror as my hair began to fluff up stubbornly, and fastened the distasteful, peach towel around my hips. I always found it difficult to tie them properly so that they'd stay up, but then again, I did dance around a bit when I got dressed.
Taking a deep breath, and reminding myself not to look at Ryan as I entered the bedroom, I opened the door and strode out to my bed. His eyes were on me. I didn't need to look at him to know that. The familiar, prickling heat spread across my shoulder blades as I leant over to tease out my nightclothes from the jumble of garments in my luggage.
"Are you going to take a shower?" I cleared my throat noisily and spoke in a hollow voice.
"Sure." There was humour in his voice, knowing that I felt uncomfortable.
Hearing the bathroom door click shut, I allowed myself aching body to stand upright and I hurriedly pulled on some black tracksuit bottoms and an old Levi t-shirt. Sliding into the initial chill of the bed, I turned onto my side and closed my eyes, my mind whirring with my questions as to my awkwardness around Ryan.
I didn't want him to see me naked. Why? I mean, I could say that I wasn't ready, but when I saw his body press against the fabric of his pants, his shirt, when it clung to his pectorals, when his lips curled up and outwards when he smiled dirtily, all I wanted to do was explore his body; run my hands over his flesh, through his hair...
I felt the soothing haze of exhaustion take me gently to sleep.
The vista stretched away in front of me, and to my sides; I dared not turn my head and look behind me, at that from which I came. Endless white, snow suffering steppe, punctuated at creases by the cracked, rocky ground breaking through the permafrost every now and then and exposing its self in bitter contrast. The gel on my eyeballs seemed to freeze ever so delicately in that jaded air.
Emily was at my side, crouched onto the floor and raking her gloved hands through the snow casually, emptying the icy waste into a small pile to one side. She was talking, but I wasn't paying attention. I couldn't stop looking around; trying to work out exactly where it was that we needed to go. I knew that we were expected somewhere, and I was desperate to find it, and get my aching head away from this cold.
I began to pull my feet out from the snow, groaning against the weight of the heavy hiking boots and the broken shackles dragging behind my ankles. Emily joined me, wiping her gloves cleaner on the lapels of her grey jacket she wore. I cast her a condemning glance, noting her business attire, the suit jacket, the crisp white blouse and the pressed trousers, her hair scraped back and clipped tightly to her head. She just grinned and removed her glasses, wiping them with a corner of the jacket.
Emily had worn glasses when she was younger, switching to contacts, as she became annoyed with losing her glasses so often. The large frames closed her face in and cut deep, brilliant reflections onto her face.
The world passed silently by as we walked slowly through that blank scenery, my stiff, bulky coat pressing down upon my shoulders. The cool of the breeze seemed to reach an arm down our throats when we breathed, and tickle the lining of our stomachs. However, we soon came upon the road. Cutting expertly through the ice and snow, its surface shimmering lightly with the wetness, pooling and shining like rhinestones in the pores between the aggregate, it passed to my left and my right.
The singsong stammer of horse hooves embraced my ears, and, to little surprise, a carriage and four black horses approached. It was a very ancient looking model, sprung delicately and clumsily between the aching chassis with its plump, spoke wheels, with a deep belly and dark, inviting windows. The driver sat pompous and professional at the front, his black cloak and tall, velvet top hat cutting a discreet shadow on to the beetle-form of the carriage.
It slowed to a halt before us, the horses' nostrils steaming and coughing into the air. The driver looked down at us expectantly from his throne, raising his eyebrows gently, but keeping a firm grip on his long reins. Emily took my shoulder lightly.
"We don't need this ride."
I nodded my nervous agreement, but, upon noticing our decision, the driver did not encourage the horses to move on. He just sat still, a smug smile on his face as he looked at the surroundings.
I could hear the wolves already, whimpering and yelping to one another beyond the distant screen of thick conifer trees, piercing the endless cobalt wash of cobalt with its frosty clouds, stretched until they became scrapes of delicate voile. I could feel the death kiss of the cold on my lips, and smell the copper of my own blood between my teeth. But we passed the carriage and carried on, closer to the woods.
The shadows of the forest engulfed us. I could hear Ash singing in my memory, her heavy, lasting notes emanating as if from the craggy, bark of the trees, leaking from the contorted vines and stems that clawed they way up the forest to gulp down fragments of light. But, in amongst the ferns, half buried under the dry leaves and decaying bracken, were pools of white light. Mirrors, mirrors everywhere, half hidden, the detritus collected in the rococo frames, blushing with gold, the glassy surface staring back at the sky with its tortured clouds and blue nothing.
We progressed into the thickets and clearings, the supple twigs and prickling needles grabbing and picking at our faces and clothes. The wolves eyed us, yellow and grey, from the creases of black amongst the swathes of green, and the eagles and falcons screamed their merry hell overhead. Eventually, the trees parted, the ferns died and the wolves padded back into the nothing.
Our feet edged nearer to the cliff edge. The rocky descent ended with a small creek, shaded and obscured by scraps of vegetation kissing its banks. The rope bridge stretched away in front of me, reaching gracefully to the other side of the gorge and the man standing there, waiting. I looked around, but Emily was throwing stones at the mirrors in the forest, just missing her targets. She called back,
"It looks unsafe. Maybe there's another bridge."
I could see other bridges in the distance, garlanding that craggy fissure in the cloak of the forest, seeming heavier, thicker, the ropes worn comfortably by the hands of many a traveller, and solidly repaired. Looking back, along the bridge to the man at the end, I could see that this one was abandoned; the boards were lined with weathering and the rope was damp and greenish with mould.
Emily had stopped trying to break the mirrors and put a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face her,
"The bridge is weak, Chris." She pushed her glasses further up her nose thoughtfully, "There are many others."
There were many others. I turned my head to tell the man that we would take another, but he was gone. I thought that I should die inside.
"Huh?" I woke with a start, blinking my eyes fiercely as the remnants of dried tears glued the lids together.
"You okay? Did I wake you?" Ryan was sitting on his bed, at my side, before my eyes, rubbing a towel vigorously through his short, water darkened hair.
"Uh..." I grunted incoherently, "Err...no, no you didn't."
Rubbing my eyes, I noticed that he was naked save the pair of boxer shorts, which kept his modesty. He grinned at me, and halted drying his hair.
"You seemed to be fast asleep. Bad dream?"
"Perhaps," I shrugged, "I'm not sure if it was bad...I barely remember it." I shimmied my body up from the covers so I could sit against the headboard.
We just sat like that for a few moments, unsure of our situation.
"You want to come over here?" I asked nervously, adding hurriedly, "I mean; you don't have to, whatever."
"Sure." He moved casually across to me, and sat on my bed, resting his back against the headboard, his body on top of the covers, "You want some company?"
"Uh...yeah," I smiled, "Maybe the dream was a bad one after all."
"You know what is good for a bad dream?" Ryan propositioned, his face inching close to mine.
"A happy ending." I smiled shortly before we kissed.
His hand weighted down upon my chest as he leant over to me, the gentle mass feeling comfortable through the fabric of my t-shirt. He pressed his tongue to my lips and gingerly searched the willing inside of my mouth as his hand crept down, beneath the security of the bedclothes. Wrinkling the bottom of my t-shirt, he slid his fingers up my torso, stimulating my flesh with intricate caresses. He brushed his hand against my chest, the soft pads of his fingertips followed by the warm closeness of his palms, painting circles over my body.
He eased the material slowly up my body as I allowed my own hands to grope awkwardly at him, abruptly coming in contact with the hard muscle of his upper body. I smoothed my hands to him, indulging in the spongy resistance of his flesh as I pressed touches against him. I tried to read his musculature like Braille, ever so gently and ever so gradually skimming over his skin, giggling lightly into his kiss as the collection of hair between his pectorals tickled my palms.
"Are you okay?" He asked me, his eyes dewy with lust, his voice soft and purring.
"Yeah," I mumbled back, managing a grin.
The t-shirt came easily up and over my shoulders in Ryan's grasp. I felt the cool of the room as my white flesh was exposed. His eyes were on me. I turned and caught his lips in mine. Placing my arms around his back, I twisted myself so he laid over me. He paused and looked down, between our bodies.
"Sorry." I stammered, realising that the covers still separated us.
"It's okay." He smiled and kissed me again.
He shifted himself from the bed, and then lifted the coverlet up, allowing his body to join mine under its warmth. The size of the bed, and the covers over it made for little room, so our frames were forced tightly together. He grinded his hips lightly to mine, causing me to gasp.
"You know you don't have to..."
"It's fine." I said firmly and lifted my head so I could hold his mouth to mine for a few seconds before he gave me too much opportunity to back out.
I could feel the eager hands slip slowly under the waist of my pants and softly stroke the skin, indented with the identity of the elastic in the clothing. I lifted my hips from the bed as he continued to undress me, feeling his warm hands exploring the curves of my midsection. Then, I could feel, warm skin against mine, infrequent, heavy and bulky. He had managed to completely undress us both, although I rubbed my ankles against one another to force the stretchy ends of my pants from my feet.
Ryan sighed heavily, closing his eyes, then opening them and smiling at me. I took in a deep breath, holding it, and then swallowing it into the pit of my stomach. Feathers raced along my arteries, kissing my insides with their irritant excitement, and collecting in my gut and lungs, making me catch my breath and cough lightly.
I closed my eyes as Ryan devoured my lips once again, and I felt myself being drawn into him on the faintly flavoured waves of our combined saliva. My head seemed to pour its misgivings and anxieties into his body; into his touch; his caress; his kiss. Through my expulsion of my neuroses, I allowed myself to indulge in his guidance, and his stimulation.
The dexterous skill of his touch trailed down my sides and he grabbed at my genitalia, enclosing me in his palm. I arched my back, drawing my front close to him, rubbing lightly against his chest, laying my head back and exposing my neck to him. He grazed his teeth against my thin, fragile skin, nipping ever so gently over my voice box and tendons. Using my lazy hands, I pulled him down onto me again, craving the contact, the security, and the reassurance of his body.
As Ryan shifted back to meet my mouth, I was nudged in the thigh by his determined arousal. His heat, his blood-heat, braised his sex onto my flesh. I could feel him inching closer to me, seeking my vulnerability out, chasing my reluctance back, and I wanted to sate his hunger and desire. I could feel my muscles flexing and stretching in anticipation, my blood hurtling through my veins and my heart thundering a storm in my chest.
"Chris?" I opened my eyes at the hesitant word.
"Whatever you want, Matt." I whispered my response, keeping a firm grip on his broad, powerful shoulders.
Ryan pulled up forcefully, ripping the covers out from their remaining sanctuary on the underside of the mattress, consenting to a shock of cool, night air between us. He disappeared beneath the settling bedclothes, then his tongue whipped at my chest and stomach, his lips plucking at my flesh and his teeth lightly scratching my skin. The stimuli shot through my fat, muscle and blood to my stomach, making me contort and twist under his efforts.
I was taken into the moist, elastic walls of his mouth, and greeted by his hot, spongy tongue. His nimble fingers were on me, guiding me, controlling me, his free hand holding my hips down o the bed as I reacted to his ministrations. My head was pounding, my ears full and red, as I pushed bricks into my cranium to last out the workings of Ryan's tongue and lips. I bit down hard, until he slowly drew from me, and returned to my face. He violently kissed me, bruising my lips lightly with his impatience. He looked at me questioningly.
"M-make..." I regulated my breathing "...make love to me, please."
"You're sure?" He nipped at my neck.
"I asked you, didn't I?" I grinned at him, and then sighed as he ran his fingertips along my inner thigh and groin.
He smiled, quickly hopped out from the covers, and, lit by the diffused spots security light through the curtains; he grabbed his bag and rummaged quickly through the contents. His body seemed flawless, stocky and broad in that pale, segmented light, his muscles shadowed as he moved between light and dark. His penis stood vulgar and enticingly out from his body, breaking the smooth silhouette, and advertising his arousal.
Cloaking himself in cotton once more, Ryan straddled me. Smiling down at my curious eyes, my cool, naked chest and my nipples straining with the cold, he squeezed some lubrication out of the compact tube in his hands. He crouched down over me, crooking his hand back as he carried it between our bodies, and his other fingers grasped at my hip and encouraged me to bend my legs and offer myself to him. He closed his eyes and his lips lay straight and pensive as the cool, viscose substance was pressed against my anus, and his fingers rubbed a steady rhythm into my resistance.
His digits entered me progressively, as I became slick and willing. My thoughts bled and swam in my mind, images and sounds flashing through my conscious, overwhelmed by the novelties bestowed upon me physically and emotionally. The shadow wriggled on me, two persistent holds on my knees and then my shins, bringing my legs up at right angles to my body. My eyelashes wetted with tears.
Ryan sucked in a curt breath, and then I felt the blunt pressure at my soul. My spine, my gut, felt like it was retracting stubbornly to my chest, but then, as he whispered relaxations to me, he pushed inside of me. The hardness opened my rectum, which pushed back spasmodically onto him, violently and painfully. I relaxed after a few, uncomfortable seconds, and more of his manhood was inched inside of me. The rubbing, and successions, brought new vigour to my own arousal, which knocked gently against my lower stomach with each thrust.
He was completely within me, and I felt eager for the expected motions. In recognition, Ryan leaned forward, curling my legs to my chest, and laboriously kissed me, our tongues twining together and suckling on one another's lips. Then, he withdrew, dragging my body back with him, pausing before fluidly pushing back inside of me, squeezing a moan from my possessed throat.
Gradually, he built up the pace of his gyrations, stroking me to confused, breathless, ecstatic plains within my imagination, and physicality devoured by these novel sensations and unlocked desires.
The game, the regular punches to my prostate, and the heat causing a sweat sheen on our skins, were lifting me higher and closer to orgasm, as I could see Ryan twisting his face tightly in restraint, gulping down his effort and sniffing down breaths, when he didn't slack his jaw and swallow the vital air. He speeded up, my back sliding roughly against the bed sheet, and jogged inside me as my muscles squeezed around him, and I came messily onto my stomach, followed by the warmth of his ejaculation inside of my body.
Recovering with moist, shaking breaths, we drew one another closer, our abdomens gelling with my semen, searching clumsily for one another's mouths, and sharing in an exhausted, blissful kiss.
Ooh, sex! I'd really appreciate some feedback on the quality of, err...my erotic writing. And be specific, for the only way I can improve is with your opinions and suggestions. Oh, but don't tell me off for unsafe sex, because I'm dealing with that in chapter ten.
Email me and make me happy.
Kris