10: Falling

It wasn’t that late, but since I hadn’t been expecting anyone, the doorbell made me jump. I shook my head at myself and dragged my tired limbs to the door.

Christian waltzed in, not looking at me.

“Hi,” he wheezed, a little out of breath.

“You ran here?” I asked.

“It started raining. And I have the wrong shoes on.”

I looked at his feet. True, red canvas sneakers weren’t a smart choice in November. They were stained with water, just like his jeans and shoulders. He bent down to take off his shoes, fiddling with the laces for an unnecessarily long time.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes. Of course.” He was jittery, nervous. It made me nervous. “I just…I was supposed to meet some…friends. People from my study group. But they canceled. I wouldn’t normally barge in here uninvited, but…”

“You’re always welcome here. You know that.”

“Yeah.” His smile was wobbly. “I texted, but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh, sorry. I must have left my phone in the kitchen.” I turned and headed that way, talking over my shoulder. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, thanks. I had dinner at the dorm with Dieter.”

“You want tea? Wine? Beer? Blackcurrant juice?”

He chuckled. “Water.”

When I came back, he was settled on my sofa, playing with his phone, and fidgeting.

“How are you these days?” he asked, distracted, with his eyes on the screen.

I put the glasses on the table and sat next to him. His hair smelled of rain. I sighed inwardly.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. And you?” I asked before he could corner me with a follow-up question.

He didn’t answer immediately. He put his phone on my coffee table, sipped his water, and set the glass down again.

“I’ve been thinking.” He winced at his words. “I do that a lot, all the time. As you know. Just, lately, I… Since I moved here, a lot has changed. And you and me, we are together a lot. I mean, not all the time. But we see each other, like, three times a week? And I like it. I like being here. I mean, the dorm is great, too. And I’m meeting new people. I have friends. So…it’s not like this is unhealthy or anything. But…” He grabbed his hair with both hands and groaned. “Jesus, fuck, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

I was bewildered. I stared at this nervous, rambling Christian, not recognizing him one bit.

“Chris, has something happened?” I asked, my voice strained.

“No! Nothing happened. Just…stuff in my head.” He straightened, stretching his neck, and clasped his hands together, resting his forearms on his knees. He stared forward, visibly steeling himself. “I like being with you. I feel safe here. And I trust you. You know me better than anyone.”

And yet, I didn’t have a clue what was on his mind or where this bizarre conversation was headed.

He breathed out. “I can’t even fucking say it,” he mumbled and laughed, exasperated.

“Christian, what’s the matter?”

What happened next either went fast or it stunned me so much my nervous system slowed down. Whatever the cause, I couldn’t react. I sat there, my hands in the air, my mouth hanging open while Christian…

He stood, turned, slipped off his long-sleeved, sky-blue Henley—the one that made his eyes shine—and took two steps toward me. I could only focus on the Henley drifting to the floor in slow motion. Suddenly there was a heavy weight on my thighs, hot palms framing my face, rain-scented exhale on my lips. A kiss.

Christian straddled my lap and kissed me. Pressed his pink, velvety, delicious lips against mine. Soft like a feather.

My breath hitched, my ribcage squeezed, and my heart went speed-core thrash metal. There was no thought involved. The gray matter of my brain was offline.

It was a reflex, I swear. Self-preservation in its purest form. My arms just flew out in front of me, and I scrambled back like a crab. I ended with one foot on the couch cushion and the other in the air, leaning back precariously over the sofa’s backrest.

When my brain recovered enough to process the scene in front of me, I was horrified at myself.

The coffee table was askew, though the glasses were miraculously intact, standing in a puddle. On my dark wooden floor, Christian half sat, half lay, shirtless, frozen in shock.

First, he just stared, mouth agape, eyes wide. Then his eyes glazed over, his mouth pinched, lips thin, corners down. His nostrils flared. The flush of embarrassment crept from his lean milky chest, up his neck, spreading over his pale cheeks. There was a touch of anger, a heavy dose of humiliation, and then, misery.

He looked devastated.

I’d never seen such an expression on him before. I caused that. I pushed him off me. He fell because I pushed him. I hurt him.

I dropped to my knees in front of him and hovered like an idiot. My hands flew around, wanting to pat and touch, but all the naked skin on display turned me into a fluttering babbling moron.

“Oh, fuck. Chris, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Didn’t mean what? To knock you off me, throw you on the floor and climb the wall?

“Get away from me,” he growled, shifting so he could stand. His voice was stony, but tears glittered in his eyes.

Oh, God. Oh, boy. Panic, panic! “No, Chris, no. Please!”

I didn’t have a choice. I grabbed him. I wrapped myself around him, trapping his arms, keeping him there on the floor with me. I pushed my face into his hair, nuzzling, breathing in. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I was just…surprised.”

He was silent, still in my arms. I could feel him breathing heavily. I stroked his back, his shoulders, pressed my cheek against his head, kissed his hair.

Move, baby, talk to me. Just don’t leave like this. Don’t leave.

“Baby, please, I’m so sorry,” I babbled some more. My lips brushed his forehead, then his temple, I trailed kisses along his hairline to the hollow in front of his pierced ear…until I realized what I was doing. I stopped—a faint echo of my first shock a few minutes ago. This time, it was on me, though. My fault.

Everything was my fault.

“Forgive me, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”

There was a moment of stillness. Neither of us spoke or moved, yet our breathing seemed as loud as screams. I could have dropped my arms. I could have backed out. Apologized, offered him a drink, given him back his shirt, talked about it. I didn’t. I tightened my arms instead and kissed his temple again. My lips lingered as I exhaled against his skin. My choice. My fault.

He leaned back, and his hand appeared on my jaw, his thumb alarmingly close to my mouth. His reddened eyes stared into mine.

He kissed me again. I didn’t stand a chance.

Christian, half naked, in my arms, on my lap, his fingers scratching and smoothing through my buzz cut. Christian’s mouth on mine, catching my bottom lip, the tip of his tongue wetting the center of my top lip. Christian’s naked chest under my palms, velvet and milk, white roses dipped in honey. His arms around my neck. His tongue in my mouth. God, the taste of him! His breaths in my lungs. And finally, his erection, hot, real, branding me as he pressed his hips closer, jutting against my stomach, young and greedy.

His hands circled my wrists, and he dragged my palms toward his ass and planted them there, anchoring himself. He pushed even closer, rocking his hips, held my head and tilted his own. We were no longer just kissing. This was something else. Something stronger, deeper, dirtier. Mouths wide open, our tongues tangled, his taste and scent were all I could comprehend. Without any conscious thought, I dug my fingers deeper into his ass cheeks, kneading, massaging, holding him closer, sucking on his tongue, more, more. A growl escaped my throat, and Christian hummed in response.

Then he bit me—my lip, my jaw, my neck—and my vision went crimson.

The inhuman strength came out of nowhere. I dragged him with me when I stood. His feet left the floor for a second, he wobbled a bit, and I pushed him onto the couch. He fell backward and lay sprawled there, eyelids drooping, mouth wet and swollen, cheeks pink with arousal, the image of debauchery and decadence.

I went for his fly, and he helped me strip him, fast and clumsy. When I dragged the skinny jeans over his feet, he slipped his tight, black boxer briefs down his thighs, too.

This was the point of no return.

I had Christian, drugged with kisses, aroused, naked on my couch. The possible consequences were devastating. My eyes bulged with hunger while my mind tried to obliterate the parts I was never supposed to see. The filter failed. His torso was much paler than my own skin, the summer tan long gone, his dark-pink nipples small and perfectly round. He had no chest hair to speak off, and his smooth belly held just enough fuzz to drag my gaze lower, where the skin was even lighter, hair darker, and his cock hard, in perfect proportion to his lean body, a slight curve to it, pointing upward and to the left, in the direction of his heart…

What have I done? What am I about to do?

Shut up! Shut. The fuck. Up! You’ve got Christian naked on your couch!

I straddled his long, lean body, lowering myself as if sinking underwater, where there was no sound and no conscience, and kissed him again, long and deep and slow.

I let my mouth wander, tasting him everywhere I could reach, his jaw, his Adam’s apple, the hollow between his collarbones, the sensitive skin stretching where his neck and shoulder met. I played with his piercing, which made him moan into my ear.

I kissed his chest, trailed the edge of his heaving ribcage with my tongue and breathed in the scent of his skin in the V of his hip bones. I could feel the tip of his erection against my chest, then my throat, and Christian thrashed under me, digging his fingers into my skull.

“Alex, please!”

I caressed his cock with my palm, studying it. I’d never felt so hungry for someone in my life. It was long, pale, and slim, just like the rest of him, and so hard. I rubbed my cheek against it, drew back his foreskin, breathed in his smell, fresh from the shower…kissed and nipped, up and down, and up… Heaven.

Christian’s hips lifted as he strained toward me, his moans uninhibited. I took the first lick and lost control completely. I swallowed him down and barely heard his shout over the roar of blood in my ears. I sucked and licked, my hips rocking, my cock weeping in my pants.

“Alex! Alex, wait!”

I lifted my head, my parted lips still pressed against the underside of Christian’s cock, the taste of pre-come clinging to the roof of my mouth, urging me to swallow. His eyes were on me, wild.

“What do you want, baby?” I whispered.

“You, naked,” he panted.

I didn’t think about it. Whatever he asked, I’d do it. Instantly. I stood, dragged my T-shirt over my head, and took his hand.

“Bed,” I said.

Christian scrambled up and tugged my hand behind him, rushing into my bedroom on unsteady feet. He threw himself into the middle of the bed, expecting me to follow.

And it hit me like a bus.

What the hell was I doing? Was I going to have sex with Christian? Sex? With Christian? Was I seriously going to take his virginity tonight? Me? What was wrong with me?

I didn’t believe in hell. But I doubted the devil would care for my lack of belief. Because for what I was going to do, I was headed there for sure, atheist or not.

I stood there, the man I loved waiting for me in the middle of my bed, naked and wanting. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t reject him. Not now, not without hurting him even more. But having sex with Christian…that sounded just as impossible.

“Alex.”

I blinked.

“Alex, if you bail on me now, I’m going to kill you. I swear.”

Fuck it.

He moved like a cat, suddenly on the edge of the bed, pulling me to him by my belt loops, opening my fly. He nuzzled my belly. I saw his intent, and my mouth went dry.

“Christian, you don’t have to…” I rasped.

He smiled up at me. “I want you,” he whispered into my skin. He might as well have stabbed me.

He stripped me, and I let him. With my underwear around my ankles and under my bare feet, I was doomed.

He seemed careful, almost reverent, when he wrapped his lips around my cock, his hands stroking my thighs and sides. What came out of my mouth could only be described as a sob.

He’d never done this before. I was his first.

My fingers went into his hair, the silk wrapping around my hands, and I watched. His angelic face was all soft shadows and delicate curves; his eyes seemed almost black in the darkened room, illuminated only by the light sneaking through the open door. They looked up at me, shining, lustful. Happy. Motherfucking hell, he looked happy. And while his mouth sent currents of pleasure all over my body, my eyes watered as if I were in pain.

I didn’t care for finesse; I had no concern for technique. Because this was Christian’s tongue, Christian’s reddened lips stretched around my cock. I caressed the corner of his mouth, his hollowed cheek. I cradled the back of his skull, stroked the sides of his neck, committing everything to memory—the touch, the sight, the humming sounds he made. I could come like this. In a minute, I would be done for. I could come on his face, stain the beauty and ruin it for everyone else but me. I wouldn’t, but just the thought, the image…

I growled and dragged him up the bed, taking him under his armpits, and he giggled. I dropped my body between his open legs and kissed him again. He hooked one leg around the back of my thigh and rocked, his cock sliding alongside mine. He moaned and rocked again. My hand on his ass, I ground against him, until he broke the kiss, panting.

“Alex,” he hissed against my lips. “Alex, will you do it?”

“What, baby?” I licked and sucked on his neck, drinking in his taste, the sounds he made. He was loud. He was amazing.

“Make love to me.” It came out in a rush, breathlessly.

Oh, God. I… And hell to the no! I had to keep at least a pretense of a boundary I couldn’t cross. A pretense that I didn’t just destroy the most important friendship in my life. That I didn’t just offer my heart to be processed through a meat grinder.

I didn’t answer him. With my morbid thoughts safely compartmentalized somewhere way back in the darkest corner of my consciousness, I inhaled deeply with my nose hovering over the soft hair at his temple. I planted one kiss on his mouth and went down his body, eating at his skin, his nipples, his belly, until I reached his cock.

I sucked him in, basking in his reaction when his hips lifted off the bed. He hiked one leg over my shoulder and opened himself up to me, his intentions as clear as day. I could feel that he was too far gone to last much longer.

His cock in my hand, I stroked him, the spit and pre-come easing the movement. I nuzzled his balls, then kissed behind them. I licked and sucked there…lower. Christian sobbed, pushing his hips higher, pressing closer to my mouth, completely mindless.

He tasted like soap and only very faintly of sweat and musk. He must have prepared. The thought made me a little angry. He’d conspired against me. Pressing my tongue against his hole felt like the best punishment. Apparently, I wasn’t thinking too clearly, either.

Christian thrashed and babbled, pleaded and moaned. With his hands on the backs of his thighs, he held himself open for me. This wasn’t rimming. Rimming was what they did in porn; fucking holes with tongues. With Christian, common porn terminology felt almost insulting.

With my eyes closed, I made love to his ass, kissed, licked, nipped, sucked. He softened and opened, hot and inviting, and the pervert inside me cackled with joy, reminding me he’s a virgin! My cock screamed at me in anguish. I couldn’t stop myself from imagining how it would feel to be allowed to sink inside him all the way, to feel the clench of his body, to guide him through the pain and watch him love it. Love me. I moaned against his hole, opening my mouth wide as I suckled and swirled my tongue, and he groaned in response, his cock twitching in my hand.

With one hand on my cock, the other stroking Christian’s, I pressed inside, and the hard clench of muscle around the tip of my tongue became so distinct. Once, twice, three times…my jaw ached. Christian shouted, his hole tightened even more, forcing me out, and I could feel him coming over my fist. I licked and stroked him through his release until he whimpered, his ass still fluttering against my tongue in the aftermath.

One last kiss on his opening, one on his spent cock, I captured a drop of his come and licked my lips. There it is, the unique taste of Christian. I scrambled up his body, my tortured erection in my hand. My gaze roamed over him, his open legs, his half-hard cock against his belly, wet and sticky from his release. I homed in on the tattoo; I could see the head of the squirrel just above his ankle. He’d branded himself for me.

Greedy and possessive, I took in the come on his chest and belly, his flushed face, open mouth still panting, and his eyes watching me intently. I stared into them until I couldn’t see anymore, blinded by my orgasm. I spurted all over his stomach, white drops mingling with his own.

I fell on my side next to him and kissed him again, both of us forgetting—or not caring—where my tongue had been only moments ago, because we kissed deeply and slowly. Lovingly. With my hand on his belly, I massaged our come into his skin.

I would never recover.

I made a mess of him, but he didn’t seem to care. He pressed closer to me, kissing me more, letting out little sighs and hums of fatigue and satisfaction. The distinct shape of his wet, flaccid cock against my thigh was what startled me back to reality. What we’d just done…

“Next time, I want you to fuck me,” he whispered against my mouth and nipped at my lips.

Next time. There was going to be a next time.

Through the fading haze of post-climactic euphoria, his words from earlier came back to me. I like being with you. I feel safe here. And I trust you.

Oh.

No. Nuh-uh.

He wouldn’t do that. Or…would he?

The puzzle pieces fell into place, and my mind went from a sexy, pink fog to stone-hard logic in a nanosecond.

He felt safe with me. He was frustrated with his inexperience. But he trusted me. So, he seduced me.

And I let him.

Because I was a naïve, weak, dirty-minded, self-absorbed fool.

I was upgraded to sex instructor. That’s what I was. He recruited me to fuck him until he found someone else. Someone to love.

“I have to clean you up,” I mumbled, scrambled to my feet, and escaped to the bathroom.

I washed my face, my cock, my hands, took a towel, soaked it in warm water, and headed back to the bedroom. Christian lay sprawled on his back, and when he saw me coming, he smiled. He looked so damn happy. It was driving me crazy.

I focused on my task, wiping his stomach with the towel. Then I went to hang it on the edge of the hamper. “Do you want anything? Water?”

“Glass of water sounds great. Thanks.”

“Cool.” Cool? If I didn’t get a grip soon, he’d see I was losing it.

I struggled against putting my clothes back on and went to the kitchen, where I chugged a glass and returned to the bedroom with another. I sat on the edge of the bed.

Christian drank half of his glass and put it on the nightstand. Searching my face, he took my hand.

I didn’t let him form a question. Questions were bad. They would lead to answers, and I was sure I didn’t have any Christian would like to hear.

I dragged the covers over us both and hugged him to me, naked, smelling of white roses dipped in honey. Honey and sex. He fell asleep in my embrace, with his cheek against my chest, his arm around my waist, and his leg resting over mine.

Out of pure self-preservation, I forbade myself from further analyzing the reality. Instead, I imagined growing old with Christian by my side, in my home, in my bed. I dreamed about falling asleep like this every night and waking up to the smell of his hair and the warm touch of his skin, until one day, I wouldn’t wake up at all.