Lift Me Up

by Rayne Auster

  His motions eased the pain and my body began to open up, adjusting to his girth. Feeling me relax he slowly increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, and the friction the movement caused turned the pain into pleasure. The moment he found and brushed over my prostate again, I completely forgot my discomfort and thrust up to meet his motion.

  That seemed to be what he was waiting for. The moment I echoed his motion he relaxed and let himself go, thrusting hard, deep into my body. Finding an awkward rhythm, I met and countered his every move and savored the way my body stretched and burned to accommodate his every aggressive invasion, filling me over and over again.

  I’d like to say it was a long, erotic experience, but I was too close and it had been too long for that to be a reasonable expectation. My imminent orgasm rose with the speed of a tsunami and I came with a sharp cry of release, twisting my body on the sheets as pleasure took hold of me. He continued to slide deep into me, and the tension caused by my orgasm increased the friction once more, the burn a sweet addition, grounding me in the sea of pleasure I was drowning in. He followed me not too long thereafter, and I could feel every pulse of his release as he filled the latex condom in my body.

  And that is why I usually describe my first sexual experience with him using only two words: Mind-blowing!

  Truth Laid Bare

  As we lay there in the aftermath of mind-blowing sex, Dylan started thinking. Apparently his mind was not as blown away as mine. Over thinking is one of his vices, but that doesn’t bother me one bit. Not then and not now. When you aim to snag someone, you have to be willing to accept both the good and the bad. “You know. I never bothered to ask if you’re seeing anyone.”

  He went to a lot of effort to sound casual, but I could see that he really wanted a response to the question lingering not-so-innocently behind that statement. It is, after all, kind of hard to hide the tension in your body when you are naked and pressed intimately close to the person you are trying to hide said tension from, but I guess we can give him a point for effort.

  I raised my head to meet his eyes and silently contemplated him for a moment. Several possible responses raced through my mind, including snarky comebacks, lies, and honesty, all bundled up and fighting for victory. I went with the honest response, ignoring my masculine pride and choosing to bare myself to him. This is where I ignore all smart comebacks about me having already bared myself to him. I’m talking about emotionally, not physically. “No. I’m not seeing anyone. To be honest, you’re the first person I’ve had sex with in two years.” It was the best decision I ever made.

  “Two years?” He raised both eyebrows in disbelief and glanced at my drawer, the action rather pointed. “Then I guess that dildo must have seen a lot of action, for you to have that many condoms conveniently lying around.”

  I should have seen that one coming. I walked right into it with eyes wide open and only have myself to blame for the discomfort that followed. Seeing as I had willingly stepped into that minefield of my own accord, I decided to grin and bear it like a man. Okay, so my grin was more of a grimace, but I tried. “Kayden left them here.”

  “Who’s Kayden?” And so he stepped onto the first mine buried in the field of social ineptness I’d taken years to cultivate.

  “A….” I hesitated, my mind racing to define something that no longer had a definition to me. I was unsure how I should proceed. With all the recent conflict in my life, I didn’t know what Kayden was to me anymore, but at least I knew what he had once been. “friend of mine, I guess.”

  The moment I finished speaking, I knew Dylan hadn’t missed my hesitation, and if there was one thing I already knew I could be certain about, it was the fact that that hesitation was going to bite me in the ass in the form of a question I wasn’t really ready to answer, probably sooner rather than later. Dylan plus a mystery equals dogmatic persistence.

  “Why did your….” His pause echoed mine, the slight change in intonation a clear indication that he realized there was more to the story than I was telling him, “friend bring a box of condoms to your apartment?”

  “He… uh… he was convinced I wasn’t getting laid enough and was on a mission to get me some action. Unfortunately, it didn’t exactly work out as planned.”

  “Why is that?” Another mine blew up in my face in the form of a seemingly harmless question, but then again I should have already realized that none of Dylan’s questions are harmless. There is always more than idle curiosity behind them. His mind is razor-sharp and he’s quick on his figurative feet. I guess that’s why he’s a lawyer.

  “We had a falling out.” I kept my response short and abrupt. My emotions were still rubbed raw by the events that led to the end of my friendship with Kayden, and I wasn’t really in the mood to reminisce over things I couldn’t change.

  Dylan either didn’t see or completely ignored my reluctance and proceeded to step further into the field of doom stretched between us. With his usual maddening persistence, he casually asked his next question, strangely making a connection I never would have dreamt he could possibly make using the meager information I had supplied. “Does this have something to do with your elevator phobia?”

  I spluttered, flailed about, and generally made a complete fool of myself, yet still I was stupid enough to try going down the denial route. “No, it has nothing to do with Kayden!” My response was forced and aggressive and my tone alone was enough to give me away. Assuming, of course, he was stupid enough to have missed the tension coursing all throughout my body, but seeing as he was still very much pressed up against me at the time, I very much doubt that.

  He quickly proved how futile my protest was, strangely seeming to enjoy my discomfort. Leaning in closer, he nipped my ear before whispering into it, as he was wont to do: “He who doth protest too much, Tweety Bird….” The action sent the usual thread of lust right through me, emphasizing just how powerless I was against him. Perhaps I’d already lost myself to him even then.

  I gave in to defeat, too tired and sated to fight back with smart comebacks that held little to no meaning in the end. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.” The admission grated on my pride, taunting me with my own weakness, but I chose to ignore it. The worst was still to come and I took a deep, wavering breath in order to brace myself for it.

  “What happened?” I saw the query coming even before he voiced it, and part of me rebelled against it, but strangely enough, something about his tone actually made me want to tell him. I was tired of facing my disillusion alone, and I guess a part of me was just a touch bitter. But first things first. I needed my space. Being pressed intimately against delectable flesh was not exactly helping me think with the head on my shoulders instead of the one lower down.

  I sat up and leaned against a knee, taking a deep breath to steady myself before launching straight into my sordid excuse of a tale. “Ever read a kinky elevator sex scene?” It wasn’t the smartest opening line, but I couldn’t resist using the shock tactic so conveniently at my disposal.

  “What?” Satisfaction coursed through me at Dylan’s outcry, the knowledge that I actually had him well and truly off balance, tickling me pink. Considering all my efforts before, it was quite an achievement, so I had good reason to be proud. Even more so when he made an assumption so way off base it was actually funny. “You had sex with him in an elevator? Wait, in our apartment elevator?”

  Jealousy really does strange things to one’s ability to reason. Considering that I’d just told him not all that long ago that he was the first in two years, that wasn’t a conclusion he should have jumped to—but it didn’t matter. That was the first sign I received that Dylan might actually want more from this than sex.

  “No, I did not have sex with him in the elevator,” I replied with a light chuckle, far too pleased and smug even to pretend I was taking offense. “Though you are jumping ahead here. Alright, I’ll assume you know exactly what I’m referring to. So how do these kinky sex scenes usually start?” I was having f
ar too much fun to make this conversation easy on him.

  Dylan actually blinked in confusion and gaped at me in silence for a long moment before responding. I suspect his ever-logical mind was trying really hard to make sense of the information he was receiving, and failure to do so was leaving him stumped. I wonder what the error code in his brain is? Something tells me it is not the proverbial ID10T error so prevalent and well known in the IT field.

  “Well?” I prompted when no response was forthcoming.

  He raised an eyebrow, the silent question apparent, but decided he would play along with me for now. “A couple enters an elevator. The elevator begins to move and then stops for some reason, usually either a power failure, a fault in the elevator itself, or the emergency stop button. All very cliché and neatly wrapped up.”

  “Yup.” I nodded in agreement, actually grinning at him. It should have been a painful tale to recount, but something about telling it to Dylan and playing around with him as I did so actually made it fun. I completely forgot how hurt I was by it all and lost myself in the enjoyment of playing with Dylan’s assumptions. “That’s exactly how it happened, and the reason for the stop was a power failure.”

  I could see the skepticism and confusion written all over his face, but foraged on nonetheless. I fully intended to get to the point… eventually. “Kayden and I were the only people in the elevator at the time.” I glanced away, something within me suddenly scared of Dylan’s potential reaction, even though logically I knew I had no reason to fear the same kind of rejection Kayden had dished out. “The lights went out and it was dark and I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to tell him the only secret I hadn’t yet found the courage to share. You see, we were best friends. We shared everything. So I thought perhaps it was time for me to tell him I’m gay.”

  I fell into silence and waited for the penny to drop. “I assume he didn’t take it very well.” Ping. Bull’s eye.

  “Depends on how you look at it, I guess.” I stared blankly ahead, completely lost in memories I should’ve let go. Yet, something within them really bothered me. Kayden’s betrayal made a hidden part of me question the core of my very identity. It was not something I was about to admit, but it was there nonetheless. “There was no physical or verbal violence. He didn’t yell, and he didn’t hit me. I guess that was part of the problem. He ignored me completely, and we spent the next hour and a half in dead silence. Once the power was restored and we got out, he walked right past me, even bumped into me without even turning to look at me.”

  “Is that what had you so upset last night?”

  His question drew my attention back to him and I shook my head. “Nope.” I lilted my tone as I spoke in an effort to keep my response blasé. I failed, but we won’t go into that. “Last night there really was sex in that elevator. Kayden pressed the emergency stop button and I got the privilege to have front row seats to sex in the city in a whole new light. No, wait. It wasn’t front row seats. It was a private viewing. Either way, I got to see Kayden screw some random whore in front of me.”

  Even as I spoke, I could see Dylan’s shock and disbelief. I guess he didn’t see that one coming, but I don’t blame him. It’s not exactly something you see every day, after all. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope,” I retorted, tongue in cheek. It really wasn’t a topic I wanted to dwell on, after all. “Why would I crack jokes about such a great show?”

  “Avery.”

  “Dylan.” I could hear the soft reproach in his tone but ignored it completely, copying his tone in response. In my opinion, the topic was done. End of story.

  I guess he realized I wasn’t going to let him win, because he didn’t push me any further. Instead, he sighed, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “If it makes you feel any better, I wanted you from the moment I lay eyes on you.”

  “Why did it take you so long to jump me, then?” I retorted, suddenly feeling playful. I wanted to forget Kayden so we could get rid of the tension talking about him had caused. He wasn’t worth it. Not when I had the owner of gorgeous, sexy, blue eyes spread out all naked and glorious in my bed. Hmm, oh, the endless possibilities.

  “I was trying to be a gentleman.” Dylan raised an eyebrow, his facial features deadpan. Unfortunately for him, I could see the sparkle of amusement in his eyes, and it gave him completely away. He was playing along with me and oh, how I loved him for it. That should have been my second hint as to where all of this was headed, but stupid is as stupid does. I wasn’t ready to see it then.

  “They still have those?” I leaned in and poked his side, suddenly curious to see if he was perhaps ticklish. I wanted a physical advantage over him, seeing as he’s so good at keeping me completely off-balance verbally. Alas, such was not to be. He didn’t even flinch.

  “Of course, but we are a rare breed, you see. So you should count yourself lucky to have met me,” he retorted without pause, reaching over to poke me in return. And that is how we ended up rolling around on my bed again. You see, I, unlike him, am actually ticklish, and I had just inadvertently given myself away. Perhaps I should think things through before acting on random impulses that simply keep getting me into trouble when I’m around Dylan. Then again, maybe not. Somewhere in the middle of the tickle torture he inflicted upon me, the nature of the touches changed and he soon had me moaning instead of laughing and that is where we spent the rest of the day. Don’t you just love weekends?

  Honest Communication

  Following the best weekend of my life, Dylan and I started to date. There was no formal confirmation of the fact that we were now a couple, but we both knew it. I worked from home, seeing as I couldn’t drive with a busted ankle, and he came over every evening for dinner. He even brought food. We ate more Chinese food, pizza, lasagna, and various other takeout delicacies, though I must say the most amusing of the lot was the birdseed.

  Yes, Dylan actually thought it would be funny if he brought me birdseed to eat. Luckily for me, it was sunflower seeds, and I happen to like those. You should have seen his face when I calmly started to crack the seeds open and eat them. Another point to me, but that’s beside the point. What I am trying to get to is that we settled into a pattern of sorts, neither of us voicing what our relationship may possibly mean to us, and it was only when Michael invited us to dinner four weeks later that I realized how much damage lack of honest communication could actually cause.

  It started innocently enough. Dylan picked me up and drove me to Michael’s place. Being the gentleman he is, he opened the passenger door and helped me out the moment we arrived. Since I had already mastered the evil crutches of doom, he wasn’t even in danger of being castrated by me. We walked up to the front door and knocked, and that is when everything started to go wrong.

  Michael opened the door, and attempted to slip out, a look of sheer desperation on his face. He only had time to mouth a single “Sorry!” before he was interrupted by another male voice. “Dylan! I missed you!” A slim, pretty man with long blond hair and aquamarine eyes slipped right past Michael and proceeded to glue himself to Dylan like a barnacle sucking up to a rock.

  “I tried to call you.” Michael’s softly spoken explanation fell on deaf ears; my mind barely even registered it. My heart was too busy pounding a painful rhythm in my chest. The sight of Dylan wrapped up in the arms of another man hurt me more than I ever thought possible. Kayden’s betrayal was but a mere shadow in comparison, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. The fact that Dylan didn’t seem to be pulling out of the hold made it even worse, and I completely lost myself within a flood of misery that hit me from nowhere.

  The next thing I realized I was inside, seated at the dinner table with Dylan beside me and Michael across from me. Jacey—yes, it turns out his name is Jacey—was seated across from Dylan, and something about him just didn’t sit right with me. “So, what have you been doing with yourself lately, Dylan?” His tone was silky smooth with just the right level of suggestive undertone hidden deep within
it, and my fingers had the sudden urge to rip out his throat.

  “Nothing really. More of the same I guess.” Dylan’s tone was neutral. He remained calm and swirled the wine Michael had poured for us around in his glass. The wine wasn’t Michael’s best idea at the time, considering the circumstances, but we all have our faults.

  “You moved rather suddenly. Couldn’t you have at least called me to tell me about it? I would’ve helped, you know.” Jacey actually had the audacity to pout. He really thought that pathetic downturn of his lips was sexy, and Dylan didn’t do anything to disillusion him. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stomach it, so I reached for my own glass of wine and downed it in one swig. The moment the liquid was gone, I reached for the wine bottle to pour a refill, and when Michael moved to stop me, gave him the mother of all glares that quickly forced him to reconsider.

  “Something came up rather suddenly.” Dylan’s response was simple and noncommittal, but I was too lost in the sea of all-consuming jealousy to realize he was taking a rather distant approach to Jacey. Go figure.

  “He didn’t need your help.” I chipped in, downing another glass of wine. Wine has a tendency to loosen my tongue even more than usual. A rebellious part of me wanted Jacey to know Dylan didn’t need him in any way, especially not in the way Jacey seemed to be heavily hinting at.

  “You still could’ve called after you moved. I’ve been worried sick. You just vanished.” Jacey reprimanded Dylan with another pout. The fact that he completely ignored me and my attempt to stake my claim grated on my nerves. The urge to tear out his throat was replaced by the urge to claw out his eyes. I wanted him alive to feel the pain.

  “I was busy.” Dylan used the most common excuse known to man when it comes to losing touch. The problem is, sometimes it’s not an excuse. Fate is a fickle mistress who likes to throw the occasional curve ball our way. How was I to know which of the two Dylan wanted to express to Jacey?