Chapter 20 #6
I flash my fury. “It’s terrible that you are trying to manipulate me right now.
Are you always going to say the opposite to what you do?
Who are you trying to convince; yourself?
You kissed me because you want me. You. Want.
Me. Sooooo bad. That night in Uluru wasn’t pity. I’m not insane; this is real.”
He looks down. “I’m not like that. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I wanted to know what it was like. I think I just got swept up in your passionate advances.”
“Austen...” I say, as calmly as possible, trying to quell my molten anger, “your hands are around my waist.”
He drops his hands to his sides, and then puts them behind his back.
I gag with disgust. “Well, now I’m convinced...”
“Look...”
“Volim te,” I interrupt, and he freezes.
“Every atom,” I kiss him. “Every proton,” I kiss him again.
“Every neutron,” and again. “Every electron,” and again.
“Everything that is me is drawn to everything that is you. Tell me you don’t love me.
I can’t stop this and you can’t either. We have to go through it.
I don’t mind keeping it a secret. I don’t mind being completely different people when we’re out there.
Either I’m with you, or I’m recovering from you; so tell me which one it is.
Tell me you don’t love me; tell me, tell me, tell me. I need to know.”
He shakes his head in that ridiculous circle. “Mischa, I’m not gay. I’m not going to have sex with you.”
“Okay, okay...” I say, “Let’s go on body language. Maybe your body will tell the truth if you are going to lie to my face.”
“I cannot do this,” he says.
“Jesus, what happened while I was asleep?” I ask. “Why does he have a black eye? What do you think he’s gonna do, exactly? You think he’s gonna like, try kill me or something? Fuck that stupid asshole. I can protect myself, Austen.”
Austen looks at the wall and thinks about it.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea.”
“Yes, I do. My third eye isn’t closed yet. The doors of perception are still wide open, and I know some monstrous thing is about to devour you, and I’m never going to see you again after this. I’ve always known it. I can already feel myself losing you.”
Austen reaches for the door and unlocks it. It opens an inch and I slam it shut again, push him against the sink and press into him.
“Say Austen,” I tell him. “You are slipping away somewhere dark and I am not letting you go without a fight. Say Austen. I will stop. Say it.”
He doesn’t say anything. I put my face to his. He turns his cheek to the side to stop a kiss, so I run my lips up his jawline, and press his earlobe between my lips. His breath hitches, and I kiss down his neck and he lets out a little, “ahhhmn.”
I look at him, his mouth open, breathing heavily. “You like that? Or you want to say ‘Austen’?”
“We shouldn’t,” he whispers so silently that I have to read his lips.
I kiss him and he stops talking. We look down and his hands are on my waist again. He swallows hard and looks away.
“I’m going to touch you like airport security, and your body can tell me if it’s not interested.”
“We can’t...” he swallows hard.
I look into his eyes and run my hands down his body.
“We can’t stop? That’s my whole theory. We’ve been interrupted, held back, held down, and prevented and stopped and ripped apart, punched in the fucking eye, and died a dozen awful tragic deaths, even condemned to infernal storms, but we always find ourselves back here.
I promised I’d never not touch you. We’re not supposed to be separate. ”
Austen closes his eyes. “You’re mythologizing everything because reality is just too painful.”
“You know what? Fuck the psychoanalysis.”
I rub his crotch and his penis pushes up from the top of his pants, so I unbutton him to release it. He breathes in sharp. He is hard, and big and gorgeous. I can feel the head of my own cock aching to be touched.
He summons some fight and looks at me defiantly. “Anyone would get hard if you touched it like that. It’s just a sensation.”
“Okay,” I throw my hands up. “I won’t touch you.”
He watches as I take his hand and put it to my crotch.
I am hard. Really hard. I’ve had a semi since he kissed me by the lake, days ago.
I rub his hand up and down my zipper. He bites his lip and I take my hand off his.
I unzip. He does not move his hand away.
his breath is jagged. I put it down my pants and he closes his eyes as he touches the base of my penis.
He breathes deep. Precum starts to drip out of him, and me.
“How are you doing there?” I ask.
His eyes half close for a second and fix themselves on the head of my cock.
He’s so aroused he looks like he’s in a trance.
He licks his bottom lip and I want to kiss it desperately.
I move his hand up and down my shaft, in long slow strokes.
I don’t have to push his hand much at all, as he starts to move all by himself.
I watch him work me and he gets faster, and I get closer.
“You want me?” I whisper.
I want him so much I can barely get the words out. His breaths are heavy and labored. I want his open mouth on my mouth. His tongue I want on my tongue.
I can’t take it anymore. I’m about to come and I press my lips to the corner of his lips and explode into his hand.
As I do, with that single touch of my lips kissing the side of his mouth, he comes too; and a lot.
I touch his shaft again and the feeling of his delicate skin and its hardness sends me over the top.
With my hand pumping him, his knees buckle a little, and the cum keeps coming from both of us.
His hand and shirt are absolutely covered in me.
My mouth is stuck to the corner of his, not wanting it to stop.
He turns his head to touch more of my lips as he pants into me.
As our tongues finally connect, I pump down on him again and he shoots one last huge squirt.
I feel some of the warm goo hit my chin.
We pant together, pressing into one another until we catch our breath, and kiss again.
Then as we come back down to earth we remember ourselves.
I’m amazed how much liquid I deposited on his hand and stomach.
We both slowly look up to the low ceiling of the bathroom, which now has a splatter of goop across it.
“You hit the roof,” I smirk. “That’s impressive.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
I’m shocked at what just happened. Shocked at myself. Intense feelings start rushing over me. Maybe because I have lost people before, I can’t lose him, but I still don’t really have him.
“I love you,” I say, the moment I start to break, as it all hits me harder. “Don’t leave me.”
He is surprised by my words, and his mouth drops open. The feelings are raw, for both of us. He tries to shake them away. I feel like it’s a desperate grief only he can soothe. And he does. He kisses my temple and strokes my cheek.
I push it all back down and so does he. Then he looks at the door, and fills with terror too. He knows we have to go back out there, and is scared of what’s waiting for him. He turns the faucet on and washes the mess off himself.
I can see the cogs in his brain moving. He’s thinking we went too far, he shouldn’t be in here. He needs to sort out this bathroom, and make a quick getaway without anyone seeing us together. Like it never happened.
He zips his pants and then goes for some wipes to clean the ceiling. I take them out of his hands.
“I’ll do it,” I tell him. “Go back to your seat. I’ll wait five minutes, and then I’ll come out.”
He doesn’t look at me, but nods and looks at the floor.
“Sorry,” he says again.
I kiss him on the forehead. “Stop saying sorry. Go.”
A few minutes later as I come out of the bathroom, Austen pushes past me as he runs to the small cabin where the flight attendants prepare food. There, he crumples to the ground and throws up in a trash can.
I put my hand on his back as he tries to gather himself.
“I can’t do this,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
I’m confused, and don’t say anything.
Back in his seat, he curls into the fetal position, throws a blanket over his head, and pretends to sleep through meals.
He only “wakes up” when we land.