14
Each night became a game of who would make the first move.
It was always me. I always wanted more and was eager to be about getting it.
He never denied me and never made me feel unwelcome, even when I was awkward about it.
We fondled and snogged without end. He was responsive to my touch and let me know when I was doing well and when I was pleasing him.
That was practically always. He was turned on by everything. Even by the simple act of touching me.
The noises he made sent me. The half moans and prolonged groans I could feel vibrating down my core, tingling the tip of my cock. The little gasps he took whenever our mouths parted were mine. I’d bite the hand off anyone who tried to take them from me.
To please him was to please myself. At some point—and quite accidentally—we became one.
Our orgasms synced and so did our moods and appetites.
One night we had a bath in the wee hours while everyone slept.
I sat behind him, massaging his shoulders and washing his hair.
Occasionally I reached over and explored his body, making him flinch when I played with his nipples.
Stroking him off so gingerly beneath the surface of the water his legs flailed violently.
He sank back into me, disarmed. The intimacy was stifling.
Hidden alone together, in the quiet of that tiny ensuite, behind that wobbly locked door, no one could see us. Not even God.
I nuzzled his damp hair. Would it always be this way? Our isolation struck a forlorn chord in me, like gouging nostalgia. I missed him despite his presence. Yet in all things, I was elated.
The vapors filled my lungs, intoxicating me to the point that my words slurred.
I tried to tell him how good he felt. Fuck’s sake, I was unstoppable.
I was king. Take a look at my spoils. All the sublime things I’d won.
Dumb luck. Like I’d been dealt pocket aces or stumbled upon a vault of gold in the middle of nowhere. I had only to claim it.
Who knew what pleasure—what unpolluted delight awaited in his hands?
That he would let me care for him in this way aroused me so severely I couldn’t stomach it.
That he was all mine made me achy with need, from head to toe.
My eyes rolled into the back of my skull as I became acquainted with his rigid length, listening to him whimper and sigh, registering all the little motions that made him suck air through his teeth or convulse in a deep, erotic anguish.
Ugh, this couldn’t end. Not while he was mine.
When he came, I came untouched, then we snickered and got out of the water, not knowing where any of it had gone.
I dried him off, studying every dip and curve along the surface of his body—all mine.
His legs were lean and a bit hairier than I was used to, lending him a masculinity that made me feel pubescent.
I knelt and kissed his thighs and the creases of his hips, then took him into my mouth.
Reluctant, he stopped me, saying we ought to get to bed.
I got a sense that he was trying to protect me from something.
As if he was loathe to exploit me in that manner.
I figured I'd try my luck again at a different time, and until then relished the flavors I'd discovered in that brief moment he was in my mouth.
A couple of days later, we all gathered in the lounge and practiced a few tunes while Nathan played the guitar.
After a while we passed it around and Levi took an interest in learning, despite being a percussion man.
I sat on the second couch with Alex, while Nate sat cross-legged on an oversized ottoman in the center of the floor.
Rome sat with Levi on the larger couch. The afternoon wore on.
We covered as many songs as we knew, which Nate managed to play as best he could: like Jason Mraz’s "I'm Yours" and Oasis’ "Wonderwall" which I sang alone, using the remote as a mic.
Finally, our new single. Later we tried our hand at writing, but everyone got distracted and fed up with one another.
We had zero direction and fought over the second verse continually, proving it was impossible to write a song from five people's perspectives.
I got up for a stretch, wrapping the blanket around me because I was still in my briefs, and watched the rain fall down the gables, puddling onto the grass beneath.
It had been pouring since morning and we knew we’d be stuck inside for the day, having to find things to keep us occupied after filming. Alex joined me at the window.
"It's a mess out, innit?"
"Mm-hm," I grimaced, shaking out my hair and glancing at him. "Been pouring all morning."
"Was your mum plannin’ to make the trip over again?"
"Not today. I told her we'd finish filming early so she didn't have to come. No sense being on the road in this if she doesn't have to be."
"Good call."
"Talk to your mum yet?"
"Mate, c'mon. When haven't I? Up to three times a day now," he laughed, his pale eyes squinting. He flicked his fringe away from his forehead and took a sip of tea.
"How's she doing anyway?"
"Good. Really good. Me sister had her a bit worried though. She's supposedly seein’ some bloke now—"
"Since when?"
"A few days ago, I heard. Some little chad she met on the train. Proper douche."
"But she's thirteen?!"
"They start young, Ralph," he proclaimed, clapping me on the shoulder. "She's a little lass in love."
"I give it two weeks."
"More like two days! Drives me nuts not being able to meet him."
"Yeah... check him out. See if he's a good fit."
"Problem is, no one's a good fit. She's too damn young, know what I mean? But of course she's always tellin’ me to mind me own damn business these days."
"Getting a bit feisty, eh?" I chuckled.
"Just like me mum."
"And you."
“Alright, Lord Farquaad, put a sock in it.”
“Sass-master!”
"True," he rolled his eyes, toasting the air with his mug.
Rome had left us. He emerged outside, walking through the drizzle and poking around in the garden.
Alex left me to stretch out on the free couch, but I stood there and watched Rome a while, marveling at how small he was in the distance.
His sweatpants and jumper were oversized.
His hands were shoved into his pockets. He was wearing red converse with no socks and the shoelaces had come undone.
They slung about as he walked. I got dressed and caught up to him outside.
"Rafe!" He perked up. "Look, man!"
A tiny perennial peeked through the autumn foliage. He’d been looking to see if any flowers had survived the change in season. Everything around his discovery had decayed, making its petals appear all the more vivid. I reached and picked it for him.
"Here you go, if you want it so bad," I muttered.
"Fanks, bro," he laughed, putting it behind his ear.
"What're you even doing out here? It's freezing!"
"I know, I love it. Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Uh, no, mate...not particularly."
"Take a breath, bro," he said, stroking my chin until I did so.
He was right. It was refreshingly chill, but the drizzle grew heavier and drenched our hair.
"Me dad always used to, like...walk in the rain, but only when it was light. This is pretty heavy, not gonna lie."
"Yeah it is!" We laughed.
"But it's purifyin’, innit? Clears the mental, because all you can think about is how bloody cold it is!"
"Your dad's never been more right. I can't think about anything else right now! My nips could cut diamonds!"
I hugged him and he held me without question. Then he pulled away, clearing my damp hair from my forehead, making me feel self-conscious.
"You're gorgeous, you know that?"
I blushed, ducking my head. "Gorgeous?"
"Mm-hm."
"Uh...I dunno. That's a new one for me. No one's ever called me that before."
"They should. I mean it. Your eyes are wicked, bro. So sick. Like green and blue at the same time. I wish I had eyes like that…"
"And I wish I had eyes like yours."
"Oh yeah? What else?"
I bit my lip. "And uh... your eyelashes." They were inky and heavily fringed, like a girl’s.
"Wish I had your hair," he traded me, tit for tat.
"And your nose..."
"And your mouth..." he said, brushing his thumb along my bottom lip like he had the first time he kissed me.
After contemplating a while, he attacked, kissing my cheeks repeatedly and squishing my face between his hands until I laughed hysterically. Then he sprinted inside, leaving me to chuckle in the rain.