Chapter 17 More （and Better） Clusterfucks
More (and Better) Clusterfucks
Coco
I wake up with a jolt. All the windows are open, and the breeze is slinking sensually across the inside of the RV.
I’m not under any covers, but I’m not cold because next to me, Marín’s body is giving off a heat that can only be described as delicious despite the fact that it’s the middle of August. Judging by the light seeping through the skylights, it must be six in the morning.
The sky has started to lighten, and you can make out a few shades of pink in it, slipping around the edges, almost dripping onto them, like oil and water.
I try to change positions, but Marín won’t let me.
I don’t know if he’s awake, in some kind of twilight sleep, or completely out, but not even a molecule of oxygen would fit between us.
His knees are nestled in behind mine. His breath is warming the back of my neck.
He’s using his arms as anchors, one under my neck and the other draped over my waist. By the way, the other thing lining up perfectly with my ass must be his cock. And…it’s noticeable.
No. His cock isn’t the first thing I think about. It’s actually that this is a couple’s position, two bodies that feel comfortable touching each other, rubbing each other. Two people with a shared intimacy.
After that…okay, fine. After that I think about his cock.
I clock my irregular breathing too. I’ve fantasized a hundred times about a situation like this, and the truth is I don’t really know what to do because…
I want to do something. In my imagination, all the mornings I’ve spent lounging in bed, listening to him start the day in our house, Marín would be holding me like he is now.
And I feel even more nervous because I never thought I’d be in contact with his skin.
I never believed this was going to happen.
His body. Mine. I move my hip gently. I know it’s not right, but I need to see how he reacts…which doesn’t take long. He breathes deeply, kind of huskily, and his hip moves too, rubbing a little. I can’t feel the fabric of his shirt. He must have ditched it at some point in the night.
Is he asleep? Dreaming about Aroa? Is he awake?
I could easily check by rolling over, but I don’t want to shatter the moment.
Something tells me this is the kind of thing that breaks and disappears if you think about it too much.
I shift again, pushing my ass into his cock, and his right hand changes position, from my waist to my hip.
He’s asleep. He must be asleep. He’s dreaming.
I want to touch him, but I don’t dare. I content myself with rubbing again, up and down, and this time I draw out the movement. I hear a rough moan caught in his throat, and my sex tightens around itself. My body is begging for more. What the fuck is going on?
This time, his hand is the one moving my hip. Can he really be asleep? I move closer and then farther. Again and again. I can feel his hard cock behind me, against my butt. He’s rubbing it, adjusting it, breathing faster and harder. For the love of God…maybe I’m the one who’s asleep?
No, I’m not. His hand moves back to my waist, but only to slip under my pajama top and climb up in search of one of my breasts.
His hand on my boob. I can’t breathe. My nipple hardens, and I feel wet—so easy, so fast, so Marín.
When his fingers tighten around my tit, I have to swallow a moan. God…Coco, move.
I do. He does too. His fingers grip me harder. One contained thrust, behind the bunk’s curtain, which is making a muffled crunch. Another. I almost have to bite the pillow. I want to moan, and I want his other hand inside my underwear.
His mouth is half open. I know because his lips are pressed against my neck now, over my tangled hair. When I arch backward again and he arches forward, the heat of his breath condenses on a strand of hair on the nape of my neck.
Touch me. Undress me, for fuck’s sake. I want your mouth between my legs while I grab your hair and pull. I want to tell him so many things. I want to say things I never even said to Gus. What would his response be if I did? What expression would I find on his face?
Marín, fuck me with your fingers, with your tongue, with your cock. Do what you want with me. I want you to come so deep inside me…
I’m losing my mind.
“Marín,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer. He’s asleep. I need to know if he’s asleep.
He rubs his cock against me again, and I put my hand between us.
To hell with it. Under his underwear he’s hot, hard.
I grab him over the cotton and trace the contours of his erection with my fingers.
He groans. I’m touching Marín’s cock…and it’s hard.
This isn’t happening. If this is a dream, I’ll dive headfirst into a well as soon as I wake up.
He fondles my breast. I fondle his cock. I don’t think I’ve ever been this horny in my life. But…what is this?
“Marín,” I repeat.
I’m about to turn around, kiss him, put my half-asleep tongue in his mouth and lick his. Just the thought of it makes me even wetter. I’m going to do it. I can’t take it anymore. I’m turning toward him, but…
The hand gripping me is losing strength. It feels further away. There’s space between us. I can feel the cool dawn breeze on my skin. He’s turning the opposite way.
He sighs. He settles down.
Fuck my fucking luck. This dude is asleep.
* * *
I can’t get back to sleep. I’m still a little groggy for an hour, but I can’t deepen it into real sleep.
I’m too nervous, riled up, and a little disappointed to do it.
All I want is for it to be daytime so I can check if there’s anything different in the way he looks at me.
Deep down, it’s hard for me to believe a guy can do all that while he’s in the deepest state of unconsciousness.
If he was even slightly awake, I’ll know as soon as he looks at me… right?
Still, I make the most of the opportunity. I’m so close to him, with one of my legs looped between his. My nose is in direct contact with his skin. It smells like him. He smells a little of me too. I wish we could always smell like this…
At nine, I get up, clambering awkwardly over his body.
I’m not tired of the contact, but it’s hurting me.
My head has started spiraling. It’s turned all this into a brutal mistake that will be the end of us.
I’ve started thinking in absolutes, not taking anything else into account, without any perspective.
If I don’t find the strength to find out if Marín could feel something more for me, I have to move out of the apartment.
* * *
I go to the campsite bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face, take a piss. I stand there for a few minutes, staring into space, remembering the feeling of Marín’s muffled moan on my neck. I’m still horny. I should probably take a shower.
I put my pajamas back on after the shower, going commando. I go to the camper, crawl inside like a long-legged mouse, and grab the cash I left in the kitchen drawer yesterday, predicting this would happen. I’m going to go buy coffee for everyone. Yes, in my pajamas.
Deep down, I can’t help being in a good mood; the shower washed away my fears, and now all I can think about is Marín and me, rubbing against each other. Hope. Hope swelling in my chest, zipping around my stomach, making it so I don’t even need to breathe. I could live off it.
I work hard to set up a bougie breakfast layout.
I fan out napkins, plates, a bottle of orange juice on the table.
I light a candle to keep the bugs away and go inside to stealthily open the blinds to air it out in there.
Blanca is the first to wake up, and she shows me by stroking my leg as I pass by her bunk.
“Jesus that scared me, Blanqui…”
“I want to die,” she groans. It’s like a scene from World War Z where she’s patient zero.
I grab my first aid kit, strategically stashed on one of the shelves, and hand her an ibuprofen and a glass of water.
“God, Coco, thank you. I thought I was dead and this was my purgatory. Ibuprofen is my religion.”
“Grab another one… Everything hurts.” That was Marín, who’s looking at me with eyes puffy from sleep from the top bunk. God. He’s so hot. I’m oozing love.
“Hi,” I say like an idiot.
“Hi, Sardine.”
He gives me a beautiful smile and closes his eyes as he stretches.
You know that feeling bordering on rage when you feel like you couldn’t love anyone more?
We should give it a name; there should already be one to label the feeling of wanting to rip out your heart and thrust it, dripping and bloody, into his hands as an expression of love.
I love this dude. I love him so much I want to pass out.
“Hey!” Blanca exclaims from down below. “How does everything hurt you? Did you drink last night and I missed it?”
“No. Of course not. It’s this bunk. I didn’t want to move much ’cause I was scared I’d push Coco out of the camper and I’m stiff.”
“Well then, come on, get up,” I encourage him.
“I can’t right now.” He laughs.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m hard. And give me that ibuprofen. Even my balls hurt.”
It’d be weird if they didn’t hurt. Fuck my life. This dude was completely asleep and doesn’t even have a clue that I grabbed his cock.
Gradually, the rest of the occupants are getting up. Aroa barely says a word. She folds up the living room bed, grabs her stuff, and heads to the bathroom. She’s pissed off because I slept with Marín.
Loren pops up with hair like he was struck by a tornado, but he looks like a maharaja. He’s sitting in a chair, grumbling about his terrible luck in the bed lottery, and clutching a coffee like it’s Rose in that controversial scene in Titanic.