Gale #4
My inability to answer seemed to be answer enough. Ozrik removed his fingers and took hold of my hips. “It’s okay. Don’t panic. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
Shame engulfed me. I wanted to say yes. Please. Now. Do it. But the words wouldn’t come.
I expected him to pull away, to end the encounter because it wasn’t going where he wanted, but he didn’t.
“Can I kiss you again?”
“Please.”
The frantic fervor calmed, and he took his time exploring my mouth that time. Gentler, he stroked my cheek and threaded his fingers through my hair. He clung to the back of my neck, keeping me in place as he explored every corner of my mouth.
At one point, he guided my hands to his body. “You can touch me,” he said against my lips. “I want you to.”
So I did. Tentatively at first, then with more bravery as time passed.
How was this real? Every second felt like a fever dream, and I didn’t want to wake up.
I learned the contours of his biceps. Felt the texture of his wild hair, twisting it around my fingers like I’d wanted to do for ages.
I explored the hills and valleys of his chest and back.
Not once did I venture lower—from a combination of fear and inexperience, but the swell of his erection against my thigh called to me.
Ozrik explored me in return. Every so often, he rocked his hard length against mine, making delicious friction until I dug my fingers into his skin, certain he would set me off despite two layers of clothing between our bodies.
The noises that escaped me were embarrassing.
If I came like this, the moon wouldn’t be far enough away to escape.
Ozrik didn’t complain about limitations, and he didn’t press for more.
He let me make the rules while still guiding the experience.
For a moment in time, I forgot how hard it was to be someone I didn’t want to be.
I forgot about societal norms and telling my father I was gay.
I didn’t feel different at all while pressed against a tree, kissing the attractive guy I’d been fantasizing about for weeks.
For once, while in the company of someone like me, I felt… normal.
My only concerns in that moment were born from inexperience and a crippling fear of embarrassing myself. They might have been unfounded, and Ozrik might not have cared if I came the second he touched me. But I cared.
Maybe I was a coward with sex, too, and was making excuses for not taking it further. I didn’t know anymore.
We kissed for what felt like hours. Until the moon was high, my lips were chapped, and my face burned from the faint scruff that had grown on Ozrik’s chin that day. At some point, we ran out of saliva, and I desperately needed a drink.
As the heat simmered, Ozrik broke from my mouth for the final time.
He closed his eyes and tipped his forehead against mine with what I interpreted as a contented sigh.
If it was laced with frustration, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
We were in our twenties. Sex should have been a given, but I was acting like a fourteen-year-old kid.
“My lips are going to be chapped tomorrow.” He chuckled.
“Mine too.”
“Worth it.”
“Oz?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry if—”
“Don’t do that.” His face was shadowed, and I couldn’t read his expression despite how close we stood. “Don’t ever apologize for having limits.”
I wanted to ask if he was mad or disappointed, but I was afraid of the answer. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be?
“Did I cross a line?” he asked. “I got a little carried away.”
“No. I’m just…”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I do.” But God in heaven, it was hard to be honest. “I’ve never done this before.”
“I figured.”
Words wouldn’t come, so Ozrik was likely left with the impression that I wasn’t ready, when that wasn’t it at all. I was more than ready to take that step. I wanted to. Desperately.
But the time for action had passed, and I was left with regret.
It was after eleven. By silent agreement, we walked back to the house. No lights shone from the windows, so I assumed Dad had gone to bed. He wasn’t the type to spy, so when Ozrik took my hand and drew me close, I let him.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow in Tulsa.”
“I guess.”
“Don’t sound so jaded. It will be fun.”
“If you say so.”
He glanced at the dark house, squinting at the windows.
“He’s asleep,” I said, reading his mind.
“Does that mean…” Ozrik moved closer and nudged his nose with mine.
“Zap,” I whispered.
He chuckled. “Zap. Every time.”
Then he kissed me.
Each one came easier. I’d found the rhythm of Ozrik and was able to keep up better than earlier. The kiss was brief and relatively tame compared to the ones we’d shared by the stream, but it was enough to leave me longing for more. Enough that I regretted it when he pulled away.
We came apart with matching smiles.
He clung to my hand like he didn’t want to let go. “I like kissing you.”
“I like kissing you, too.”
“Maybe we can do more of that sometime.”
“Maybe.”
We didn’t make specific plans, so I couldn’t help wondering if he meant it.
“Good night, Gale.”
“Good night.”