25. Haze
25
HAZE
I think I might like my job more if I found our country’s history more exciting. In reality, it’s filled with awful shit. Slavery. Wars over slavery. If we go further back, we have the massacre of the indigenous people, which I’m so disgusted about because our European ancestors still hold control over the US, acting like the indigenous don’t have rights to their own land.
But that’s the way of the European ancients, right? Conquer and convert against their will. That’s why our colonial ancestors came to the US, after all. Religious freedom. Something I find even more ironic since it was branches of those same religions that snuffed out everything that came before them as best they could.
Anyway, I don’t know why I got a degree in history. I’m repulsed by most of it. I suppose the parts I enjoy are ancient civilizations. Olmecs, Minoan, Clovis, Khmer, Nazca. They’re fascinating. They built monumental structures that later civilizations like the Egyptians and Maya expanded upon, claiming it as their own.
I’m fascinated by our ancient ancestors. That’s why I studied history. Yes, those civilizations expanded because of war for territory and whatever, but there were other reasons those civilizations failed too. Like running their resources dry. Natural disasters.
It’s so fascinating because they didn’t have written languages. Their histories were orally passed down between generations. We’ve learned what we know about them through what they’ve left behind and we try to piece together several thousand-year-old stories.
However, researching those stories was why I wanted to be an archaeologist. It’s not exactly feasible to research cultures around the world without visiting those places and being a part of dig sites.
Which is why I’m struggling with this career path. The things more easily accessible to study are histories I hate to know that my ancestors had a part of. If I could find something in the last hundred years that doesn’t have to do with all the black ugliness of our forceful takeover of North America, that would be great.
But I’m coming up with dead ends all over the place. It seems like nothing exciting has happened in and around Flagstaff. At least, nothing that excites me.
Sighing, I slow the car as I turn down the driveway to the Van Doren Estate. As per usual, I glance up at the arch I drive under announcing the title of the property. I slam on my breaks as I notice the date right under it. 1873. Have they been here for nearly 150 years? Right here in this spot?
Ohhh! Maybe I’ve just found something interesting to research. If someone was going to have archival information about their family, it’s going to be the Van Dorens. If someone was going to have an interesting history, it’s going to be the Van Dorens.
I grin as I drive down the driveway. Finally. Something that might be exciting. While it’s tempting to go track down Daddy Jalon right now, I made plans with Imry, so I head down the side road toward his house. I can run the idea by him first and see what he thinks. Maybe they’re just farmers and there’s nothing to tell.
As soon as I pass into the tree line, I glance down the drive to my right. It’s the only house I’ve never seen occupied except over Christmas and Thanksgiving. That’s the grandparents’ house. I met them in passing, but they were far more interested in Oakley and Briar—the new husbands of the Van Doren empire and Honey Bee as Myro’s long-time girlfriend. Not that they’ve been together all that long. And, of course, baby Emerson.
I suspect if they’d known I was seeing Imry, they’d have given me more attention. Not that I need their attention. Then again, at the time, I think I was pretty much just fucking Imry, right? Not that we’ve actually given what we’re doing a label, but I think after the conversation while we cuddled with Coodles, we might be more than just fuck buddies.
It feels less harrowing than I thought it would to have a kinda-boyfriend. I don’t feel… encroached on. Is that the right word? I’m still myself without Imry putting his opinion on me. Not that I thought he would. I guess part of me thought a relationship of any kind might make me feel like I did at home.
Like I needed to shape my personality and appearance to avoid conflict. Avoid the wrong kind of attention. Avoid uncomfortable situations. Maybe I thought that I’d end up holding my thoughts in.
It’s like I had this unconscious idea that I’d start erasing my personality again—or, more accurately, rewrite it—to fit into a new situation.
That’s not the case with Imry at all. It was never going to be. Most likely, it never would be again. I’ll never find myself in a position where I’m forced back into the shell I’d spent twenty years in.
Imry’s house is quiet when I pull up. Not that I’m expecting anything less. He’s not exactly a party child. Interestingly, none of them seem to be. You’d expect, with six kids, one of them would be off the walls.
I park beside his car and head for the door. I knock and open it. Stepping inside, I note that it’s still quiet. Except… I hear water.
Shutting the door behind me, I turn for the kitchen, where the sound seems to be coming from, and find Imry standing in front of the sink with a pot of vegetables that he’s covering in water. He doesn’t look at me, though I’m not surprised to find he’s wearing headphones. He lives by himself and still prefers headphones to speakers.
He’s so enthralled that he doesn’t see or hear me until I’m right up on him. Imry’s head snaps up as he jumps, the pot in his hand jerking and sending water and slices of carrots flying in an arc…
And landing on me. I gasp at the cold water, taking several steps back as I bow my head for the water to drop off. There’s a puddle, my hair drips like I’d just gotten out of the shower, and there are little spots of orange all over the kitchen.
I look up, meeting Imry’s eyes. He’s motionless as he stares at me, mouth agape. I want to laugh but I’m freaking soaked and, yeah, okay, I still want to laugh.
Imry fumbles with the faucet handle to turn the water off and sets the pot quietly into the sink. Then he pulls his earbuds out and sets them on the counter. “Uh… I’m going to get you a towel,” he says as he walks around the island, keeping the island between us.
I shift to watch him go as I shake my hands out. I feel like that pot had far more water in it than seemed physically plausible.
Imry returns and cautiously offers me the towel. I take it with one hand, grabbing for him with the other. He jerks away, eyes wide. “You’re all wet! And dripping water everywhere. Rude.”
I lurch forward to grab him, but he manages to jump out of the way, even though I follow through. He laughs as he turns for the door, throws it open, and runs outside.
Fucker.
After running the towel through my hair, I toss it on the couch on my way out the door. I take a right and round the corner just as he does on the other side of the house. Instead of following, I turn the other way and wait for him to come back around.
A minute passes, and he doesn’t. Peeking around the corner, I don’t see him, so I creep that way. His shadow, made long by the setting sun, indicates that he’s behind the house. I’m not going to be able to sneak up on him this way.
I spy his shed, so when he’s poked around the other corner, I sprint toward the shed. I turn when I’m hidden behind the side in time to see his shadow reappear. Now I’m going to wait until the exact moment when he’s completely caught unaware. Maybe there’s a hose that I can spray him with.
He meanders back and forth at the back of the house. When he finally starts back toward the front on the side I came down on, I sprint after him as silently as I can. Since we’re on the grass, my footfalls are pretty quiet. He doesn’t hear me until I’m right on him, but by that time, he doesn’t react fast enough, and I end up with him in a bear hug.
Imry laughs as he struggles in my hold. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he says, still laughing.
We stumble to the ground, rolling around as we struggle to pin the other. My fingers dig into his skin as his teeth dig into my shoulder. It’s all grunts, grabs, and laughter as we roll until I finally have him under me, and our mouths lock together.
Imry moans, his legs wrapping around my waist as I slide my hands up his shirt. Our kissing gets rougher, as it almost always does. Like we’re far too impatient to get at each other. We need to be deeper. Consuming the other. Commanding them like a marionette.
I’m not at all surprised when we begin ripping at each other’s clothes, yanking them off and tossing them aside. This leads to us rolling around again as we coax articles of clothing free. I end up naked beneath him. Imry sits up, straddling my hips. He grabs our hard dicks and presses them together in a tight hand.
We groan in unison, our eyes locking. Mouths hanging open. He squeezes tighter, making my hips jerk into his hold.
“Your dick is perfect,” he mutters, rocking his hips forward, making our cocks slide together almost painfully. Being held this tightly with no lube means there’s a whole lot of uncomfortable friction. It’s borderline painful, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting more. “I can’t wait to ride it.”
I shiver as we roll our hips together. I can’t decide whether I want to stare into his eyes or admire our cocks together. Both are hypnotizing. Both send heat searing through my body.
“Yes,” I bark. “Ride me, Im.”
He licks his lips. “Don’t move. You better be just like this when I get back.”
I nod, and he jumps to his feet, disappearing around the front of the house. I close my eyes and grab my dick, lazily stroking myself. Finally, I get to feel his body around me. I’ve been waiting for this for what feels like ages.
Not because he’s said no before, but because the way he fucks me feels like he’s taking a year from my life, and I can’t get enough. It’s just so damn good that when it gets to that point, I’m practically begging for his cock.
He’s taking forever. I swear, a year has gone by while I lie naked in his yard under the setting sun with my dick in my hand, waiting for him. I’m about ready to follow when Imry finally returns.
“Did you get lost?”
He smirks. “No. I was saving us some time and prepped inside.”
“I’m offended you won’t let me touch your hole to prep you.”
Imry leans over me as he rolls a condom down my dick. “Next time. I’m far too anxious right now.” He bites my lip, sending chills down my spine and making my cock twitch in his hand. He’s stroking me now, rubbing lube all over as he bites my lip.
He sits back and I follow, grabbing the back of his head and keeping his mouth to mine. We shift awkwardly in this position as he lines me up and starts to slide down my dick. This isn’t the best angle for deep penetration, but that’s okay. I need my mouth on his so I can taste his moans.
I drop the hand at the back of his head and grip his ass cheeks with both hands, driving him further onto me.
“I was right,” he gasps, rocking his hips in the most maddening way. “You have a perfect dick.”
Grinning, I bring his mouth back to mine. His arms wrap around me as we rock and grind together the best we can in this sitting position. Imry’s muscles flex under my hands. His hole squeezes me as he uses his muscles to move.
We kiss sloppily until we’re at the end of our patience and need more. He leans back on his hands, digs his heels into the grass, and starts driving onto my dick as he holds himself up like he’s going to crab walk away. I help him along, keeping my hands on his ass cheeks and driving him onto my dick.
He’s not quiet. I wonder if this is what I sound like when he’s fucking me. Loud and needy and sexy as fuck. Is my hole this greedy for his cock? Does my body shake like this when he’s fucking me as it does when he’s riding me? Is he as mesmerized by the pleasure on my face as I am with his right now?
Imry is an ethereal being sent to me. I’m sure of it. He can’t be of this world. The pleasure we share can’t be human. It’s too good. Too consuming.
He doesn’t have his hand around my neck, and though I miss his suffocating hold, I still can’t catch my breath. Pleasure rocks me to the point where I lie back on the grass again. He bounces on me hard. I meet him, thrust for thrust, driving up into him as he comes down.
Maybe I am just as noisy as this when he’s fucking me. I feel like I am. I can’t stop moaning. The pleasure he drives into me with each tight swallow of his hole has my head spinning. I’m going to come. It’s right there. But I desperately need him to come first.
His voice rises. His loud grunts fill my head. I feel droplets of rain over my chest as his rhythm breaks. His body shakes.
“Come, dammit,” Imry gasps.
With permission, I grip his thighs and pull him tightly to me so I can fill his ass. Okay, I fill the condom, but it’s deep in his ass. That counts. My body throbs along with the pulse of release in his body. I think I’m vibrating.
I barely have the strength to drag him onto my chest when we’re finished, and we lie there, panting, my dick having already slid out of him because of the angle makes a chill run through my body. It’s not cold. It’s rarely cold in Arizona. But as our bodies cool down and sweat dries into our skins, the only warmth I feel is Imry’s body heat.
“We should have been fucking since we met,” Imry mumbles.
I grin. He’s not wrong.