44 LONDON #2
The air around her knuckles shimmies and suddenly, a glowing globe of light blooms in the space between us—it has little silver sparkles dancing inside.
Without really being conscious of it, I realize my throat is humming the same note. Finger acrobatics aren’t a problem for me, in fact they are way easier than full body gymnastics, so I look into Kitten’s eyes and try.
Blimey O Riley!
A light bubble burst into existence right next to hers, but doesn’t have silver sparkles, it has swirls like a lava lamp.
Oh! The exact color of Kitten’s eyes!
“London,” Aurora grins, her face lighting up. “It’s just beautiful.”
I stretch out my fingers, increasing the size of my blob. And then I do it again until it’s so big, Kitten and I are enveloped inside.
Her mouth opens then closes, then grins some more. “I’ve never been inside a light globe spell, I didn’t know it was even possible!”
The happy-fizz in my veins goes completely off the charts. “Can I make it warmer, or made out of cotton candy?”
“I never got to do heating spells with my tutors, but I know the theory is to pump warmth into your wrists, and then…”
“Say no more.” I’m a faun with heat-a-plenty, so I flex my wrists like Spidey. The lava lamp we’re standing in begins to gently heat.
“I knew it!” she squeaks. “Fuck, London. I just knew you’d be good at this. I’m so proud of you.”
My heart and brain are on a waltzer, taking turns to smash into my ribs or my skull. It’s dizzy-making but also the best. Our eyes lock on to each other, and before any brain-worms can tell me no, I lean down and press my lips against hers.
It’s a safe kiss inside our warm blue bubble. Soft and safe, like the peach and vanilla shampoo.
But the moment my tongue brushes the seam of her lips, a massive, electric jolt goes straight down my spine. The connection is so good, but also so intense.
Too intense.
Stupid sirens start going off in my head while down in my new sweatpants, my downstairs-faun-horn reacts, twitching and filling and getting hungry.
Danger. Danger.
The cattle prod. The scarred-face man.
The old ladies who smelled like stale gin and expensive dust.
The old men who wanted me to smell like blood and fear.
“You’re up, London. Do your bit.” Buzz, crackle, electric hiss.
“That’s a good little boy, come eat up Momma’s special place.”
“On your knees, boy. Lick the lovely lollypop.”
“Look, his little pee-pee is getting so excited…”
No it’s not. I want to stop. I hate this.
I hate my body. Dirty, double-crossing, dick. I’ll cut it off.
Maggots.
Rotten meat.
Ear hair.
Make it go away.
“MAKE IT GO AWAY!”
Where am I?
On my knees in the frozen mud.
“London, oh baby. It’s alright, you’re safe. You’re here with me…can I hold you?”
Kitten. I fling my arms around her like I’m lost at sea and she’s my little life-buoy. There’s a wailing noise surrounding us. A fog horn from a ship in a storm?
“Ssh, it’s OK, I’m here, I love you.”
The wailing gets less when I realize it’s coming from my own mouth, echoing out into the gray woods.
A tear falls down my face when I realize my beautiful globe popped. Of course it did. Beautiful things are not for London. I bury my face into her fluffy shoulder, and try to clamp my jaws together. My teeth are click-clacking so much they might break.
“Can you talk to me, babe? Talk me through what’s in your mind?”
Can I?
My teeth might fall out.
But, but for Kitten, it would be worth it.
“O-o-K-k.”
She cups either side of my chin until the wobbles get under control. I swallow and nod. “Ready,” I whisper.
“Take your time.”
I clutch hold of her hand. I’m really going to do this.
Say this.
Three, two, one,
Go.
“I tried so hard to never let it happen,” I mumble. “Never, never, never. I didn’t like it, but sometimes, sometimes my horrible weeny would get all stiff. They’d point at it and say I loved what was happening—but I didn’t, Kitten. I promise you I didn’t.”
‘See how much he’s enjoying his little treat. Must want more…’
“I know you didn’t. None of it was your fault.” Her hands reach out, and she stokes my face gently, but it doesn’t stop me shaking my head.
“I’d scream at my body to keep frozen. Sometimes it worked, but if it didn’t I’d punish myself.” Punish it for being bad and dirty.
Rubber bands wrapped so tight that maybe the whole bad thing would fall off.
“London. Listen to what I am saying to you,” she whispers, her thumbs wiping away the sneaky tears on my cheeks.
“Those monsters stole your choice, and stole your body, but we are not going to let them win. They’re not going to steal anything more.
From this day forward, everything that happens to your body is for you to decide. ”
For me to decide.
“I love you, London. Your brain, your body, your soul. I’d like it if we could be…be intimate together—and that can look like whatever feels best. Cuddling? Kissing? Holding hands? You choose.”
I like all those things very much when they are with my Kitty-cat.
And I want more than that.
I do.
I want everything, but… “But it’s so scary, Kitten. I don’t want those memories in my head anymore, but getting hard makes them rush back. Should I just cut it off? Would that be best?” I wince as I say it, but isn’t that the only option?
“What if you had a different memory associated with having an erection?” She blinks several times and her cheeks have gone as rosy as a posy. “What if I, er, touched you? If you liked it, would that shift your perspective?”
My stupid penis twitches and gets all excited about the idea. He’s obviously saying a very eager yes. But my girl is so good, so light, so bright—doing sex things with me will muddy her.
I’m dirt, not Burt.
We gaze at each other. Words are tumbling around in my head, like balls in a spinny cage, and I can’t pull out the right ones to make a bingo.
“Think about this,” she says, “you’ve never made love with someone, neither have I. We’re both virgins, essentially. Could we learn together?”
Oh.
Oh!
She’s right. Sex is one thing, but I’ve never, ever, ever, ever had an experience that was anything like love-making. And I do love my Kitten so much.
She presses her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my lips. “But please don’t think I’m pressuring you, I just wanted to brainstorm choices, that’s all.”
I blink, and blink again. “How did you do that? How did you get to be so wise? Wiser than the old man of the sea? Wiser than the wise old owl who lived in an oak? The more he saw the less he spoke. The less he spoke the more he heard. Why can't we all be like that wise old bird?”
Kitten giggles. The sound makes my ding-dong get going again, but this time I don’t try to fight it. We’re kneeling, face to face, and I drag her closer so our torsos press together. The contact increases all the sensations.
“London.”
I love how her voice has gone husky.
“I can feel you. Your hardness. Are you doing OK?”
My lips will do a better job of answering than my dizzy words. This time, when I tease the seam of her mouth with my tongue, I let it be love. Just love.
Love that makes my cock hard, makes me want more. I want to touch her. And for her to touch me. Love not sex.
Love.
Her body grinds a little against mine, making a moan pop out of my throat. She pauses, but I grind back so she knows it was a yes-moan.
Slowly, her hand slides down my chest, then pause at the waist of my sweatpants. “Is this alright?” she whispers.
“Very yes, Kitten,” I croak.
“Should I try a little more?”
“Pretty please.”
Her warm palms slide under my jumper and stroke my belly. Then a little lower. Her fingertips brush the tip of my hardness. Over the sweatpants.
I feel the wetness leak from the tip. I want more. My head nods as we kiss again as her fingers dip beneath the elastic. She sucks in a breath as she trails them down my length. “I didn’t think it would feel so silky. Is this good?”
“So good.”
She encircles the shaft, making me suck in a breath. “Please, Kitten…”
“What should I do?”
“Could you, possibly, move your hand up and down? Keeping that grip? I do so very much like it.”
Oh, Gods in heaven. It feels like love.
I feel like I’ve been a caterpillar all my life, but now I am a red admiral. My butterfly breath is coming out in shuddering gasps as she continues to stroke. “Ooh, love,” I whimper. “I think things are going to happen.”
The next moment electricity rushes through my veins to the base of my spine and then.
Whoosh.
I spill and spill and spill.
As soon as the wild rush slows, I collapse against her shoulder. I’m crying buckets, but happy water. The happiest ever.
And somehow my swirling blue bubble comes back to life with me and Kitten in the center. A perfect, toasty hothouse haven.
I lie on my back, and pull her on top of me. She snuggles into my chest. We lay there for a long time, not saying anything but hearing everything.
Just like the wise old owl.
Finally Kitten pulls back, her face flushed and beautiful. “We should go claim some shepherd's pie before Basil eats it all.”
I stand up, my legs feeling elastic and magnificent, and grab her hand. “Next time we kneel in the frozen mud, I’m going to touch you until you see stars,” I tell her.
“Does it have to be kneeling in frozen mud?” she replies.
“Oh! You’re right, it doesn’t at all! We could do this up a tree, under a hedge. On a doorstep, on a ledge.” The possibilities are endless.
“Or on a warm and comfy bed?” she grins.
Wow. I hadn’t even thought of that one.