Tell Me It's Real

by TJ Klune

  WE DIDN’T stay long at the bar. There was something odd building in the air around Vince and me, sort of like a strange static charge that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end and the palms of my hands to feel itchy. Vince kept shooting these hot little glances over at me, catching my eyes for longer and longer while I tried to maintain a conversation with Darren. I tried not to flush under his gaze, but it became more and more impossible as he watched me for longer periods of time.

  And then the touching began.

  At first it was nothing major. Just his hand at the base of my spine, his thumb pressing slightly to let me know it was there. A bit of brief pressure, the scrape of a thumbnail through the shirt I wore, and then it was gone.

  The second time it happened, he waited until I started to take a drink of the cocktail he’d gotten for me. Again he put his hand on my lower back, but this time, he pointed his fingers down toward my ass, the angle of his arm slightly awkward. I felt the tip of his middle finger lift the hem of my shirt and graze against the skin of my back. I choked on my drink, cranberry juice dripping down my chin. I mumbled an apology as I used my arm to wipe my face. Vince dropped his hand, and I refused to look at him. Darren didn’t seem to notice.

  And on it went. There would be a grip on my arm as Vince tugged me to the back patio, biting his fingers into my skin, part of me relishing the pressure, another part wanting it to stop immediately before I sprouted wood right then.

  He would slide his hand down my arm when it became impossible to walk side by side, slipping fingertips along my forearm, my wrist, my palm until his fingers would catch mine, pressing our hands together as he led me through the crowd.

  We reached the patio outside, and conversations were happening all around us, voices running together until they were just a wall of noise that I couldn’t separate into single words. Vince kept glancing back at me as he pushed his way through the crowd, a little smile on his face, his eyes narrowed with something I couldn’t quite place. I didn’t know where Darren had gone, only that he was no longer with us, and I didn’t know where Helena was, only that her show was over and the people around us moved and swayed and danced and writhed.

  Vince found a dark little corner, near a set of stacked chairs, away from the crowd, away from the noise. It only took him a moment before he had me pressed up against the wall, putting his hands on either side of my head, standing so close that I could feel his breath on my face, but no part of his body touching mine. I tried to control my breathing so it wouldn’t seem like I was panting, but that was exactly what I was doing.

  I opened my mouth to speak—to say what, I didn’t know—but it came out as a croak, a low noise that sounded as if I groaned. Vince quirked his lips, trying to become a smile, and I became fascinated by his lower lip, how full it looked, how it had tasted in my mouth, how plump it had felt as I rolled it between my teeth. His tongue came out, a flash of pink against a darker red, wetting his lips. I saw the hint of teeth, strong and white. He shifted his right hand slightly behind my head, scraping his fingers along the brick of the building, the sound like a roar in my ears.

  I opened my mouth again. “So,” I said.

  “So,” he said, his voice deeper than I’d heard it before, like a rasp.

  I swallowed thickly. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I felt like I should say something, anything to fill the charged silence between us, but nothing came to mind, and I was afraid if I started babbling, I’d never be able to stop. I tended to do that when I was drunk, nervous, or turned on out of my fucking mind, and I was two out of three, which did not bode well for coherent conversation.

  Fortunately for me (I think), Vince didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. I could feel the heat of his body so close to mine, but I didn’t push for those last few inches that would have him pressed against me. It was already a warm night, and I felt sweat trickle down the back of my neck into the collar of my shirt.

  He leaned forward then, still pressing his hands against the wall. He went to the side, his cheek barely scraping against mine, the grate of his stubble against my smooth cheek. His breath was on my ear, but he didn’t take it further, just stayed there, breathing in and out. Then he pressed his nose against my neck and breathed me in. Our shoulders knocked together, his chest against mine as he breathed in, separating as he exhaled.

  He found the patch of skin under my ear that drives me up the fucking wall. I stifled the groan that threatened to rise but could do nothing about the way my jaw grew tight, the way my blood thrummed just under the surface. He sucked on the skin, hard enough that I knew it’d leave a mark. I should have been somewhat horrified that I was a thirty-year-old man receiving a hickey in the back of a gay club while people milled only feet away, but I couldn’t be bothered. I was too far gone under the sensation of his lips latched onto my neck, the scrape of his teeth, the press of his tongue. He leaned back and inspected his work, looking darkly pleased with himself. He took his left hand and rubbed his thumb over the mark, the slight burn growing stronger with the caress.

  I’d never been so fucking hard in my life. His systematic breakdown of all my defenses was leaving me somewhat breathless. I was never one for public displays of any kind of affection, and the fact that he had me pressed up against a wall for everyone to see caused my stomach to twist. But even that emotion was overrun by the hot pleasure I was taking from him, the perverse idea that everyone was watching him fuck with my head, that they could all see my arousal. My dilated pupils. The quick breaths. The shaking of my hands. The way I craned my neck to give him better access to study his mark. I wanted everyone to see. I wanted everyone to know.

  Keeping his right hand behind my head, he took his left and gripped my face, his palm against my chin, his fingers splayed out across my face. He squeezed gently and leaned forward and kissed me. I tried to respond to the touch, but he pulled away. Then he kissed me again and pulled away. And again.

  And it was about that time that I realized that I wanted to fuck. I wanted to fuck like I’d never fucked before, and I wanted to do it now. I was done with gentle touches and wicked games. I couldn’t help but snarl in his hand. I reached out and gripped his waist, spinning us until we’d traded places, his back against the wall, me standing in front of him. But I wasn’t some fucking jerk who dragged out foreplay. Forgetting where I was and who I was, I pressed up against him, grinding my dick into his, marveling at the fact that he was just as hard as I was. He moaned, but I caught it in a kiss, letting it cross into me as I sucked on his tongue, chasing it with my own. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to shoot right there in my jeans, something I’d never done before.

  “Wanna get out of here?” I asked as I pulled away from his mouth.

  “Why, Paul,” he laughed, sounding out of breath, “I don’t know what kind of boy you take me for.”

  Feeling daring, I said, “One who is about to get very, very lucky.”

  He grinned. “Oh? Is that so?”

  “That is so.”

  “Well, far be it for me to say no to getting lucky.”

  “You don’t seem like the type to say no to that.” I winced inwardly as I realized how that sounded. Calling someone a slut is not sexy talk. I had a feeling that it was about to get awkward.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Is that your way of seducing me? Compliments?”

  “That’s not really what I meant to say.” The sexiness was leaving very quickly. “What I meant to say was that I like being pressed up against you.”

  He chuckled. “Do you?”

  I scowled. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

  “Sort of.” He leaned in and kissed me again, really just a peck. Like we were friends. The sexiness was almost gone.

  “That’s great,” I sighed, starting to take a step back.

  But he stopped me before I could. He grabbed me around my waist and pulled me back into him until were pressed together head to toe. Being almost the same height had its a
dvantages, especially when I could tell he still had a hard dick. “Tell you what we’re going to do,” he said, his forehead against mine, a wicked curl to his lips. “We’re going to leave here. We’re going to go back to my apartment since it’s closer. And then I’m going to fuck you through the mattress. Or through the wall. I haven’t decided yet. Maybe we’ll do both. That sound okay with you, Paul?”

  And the sexiness returned rather quickly with that pronouncement, and I spoke before I could think. “That sounds awesome. Let’s go do that—”

  “Paul Auster, hiding in a corner pressing against some sexy man? As I live and breathe, I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Oh sweat balls,” I groaned, not wanting to turn around and see Helena’s smirk.

  “If either one of your hands is down the other’s pants, I ask that you refrain from continuing your jack-off sesh, at least for the moment. Afterwards, you may continue with my blessing. And my participation, if necessary. I’m sure Vince has always wanted to try the queen-sized version.”

  Vince chuckled as I growled. “No jack-off sesh,” he said. “Not yet.”

  Once I was sure I wouldn’t stab anyone in the thigh with my erection, I turned and glared at Helena, who watched me with undisguised amusement, a red riding crop in one hand, slapping it against the other. She was dressed for her rodeo dominatrix routine, complete with these killer black thigh boots that zipped up the sides and had spurs and sparkly fringe. She gave me a quick once-over before her eyes landed on my neck. “Paul? Darling?”

  “Yes?”

  “You seem to have a hickey.”

  I blushed, lifting my hand to cover the spot. “That’s not a hickey,” I told her. “I burned myself on my hair curler trying to curl my neck hairs before we came out.”

  “It’s a hickey,” Vince assured her. “I gave it to him.”

  She eyed him. “Did you now? Impressive, considering I don’t think Paul’s ever had a hickey in his life. Disrupts his perfectly ordered world. My, oh my. The tongues shall be wagging at work on Monday.”

  Showing up to work on Monday with a hickey on my neck was not the best idea in the world, until I thought about that slut Tad seeing it. Then it felt like a badge of honor and I wanted Vince to give them to me all over my face until it looked like I had been beaten by tiny fists.

  “You boys taking off soon?” she asked with a knowing look.

  “We’re getting out of here now,” Vince said, stepping away from the wall and grabbing my hand. “I still have to give Paul his birthday present.”

  “Is that what they call it nowadays?” Helena asked. “Hopefully your present is big and wrapped.”

  “Are you really giving me a safe-sex lecture disguised as innuendo?” I asked incredulously.

  “Aren’t I fabulous?” She reached out and rubbed the riding crop against my face, then dragged it along Vince’s. “I just want to make sure my baby dolls are playing it safe. Did you know that, if need be, you could slice open a sandwich baggie to use as a dental dam?”

  I gaped at her. “Please don’t ever say anything like that to me ever again.”

  “Do you like to get rimmed, Vince?”

  “Please don’t answer that question in public,” I begged him.

  “You know, for someone who was just rutting against a wall, you are somewhat of a prude, sugar.”

  “Sometimes,” Vince said with a shrug. “Depends on who is doing it.” Then he gave me a meaningful glance that could not be interpreted in any other way other than he would be totally okay if I tongued his butt. When one receives such a visual cue, one either runs with it or opens and closes ones mouth like a fish dying on dry land. Guess which one I did.

  He leaned in and kissed me with his filthy, filthy mouth. “I’m going to go find Darren and say good-bye,” he said. “Be right back.”

  Helena and I watched him go because it was such an awesome view. “Baby doll, I do believe you’re going to get plowed like a field around planting time,” she observed succinctly. “Gonna get seeded, that’s for damn sure.”

  “Farming metaphors are not attractive,” I snapped at her.

  “Don’t be jealous of my wit.”

  “I don’t think jealous is the right word.”

  “You okay, sugar?”

  “Yes. No. Fuck! I don’t know!” Now that Vince was out of my sight, I was starting to panic a bit. “We’re about to go have sex!”

  Helena grinned at me. “Usually that’s a cause for celebration. Or, at the very least, a modicum of happiness.”

  “What if he wants to do it with the lights on?” I asked her, the scenarios turning horrifically in my mind. “With my shirt off?”

  “Pretty sure that’s what sex is.”

  “Have you seen my naked body?”

  “A few times.”

  “And have you seen his? Wait, don’t answer that.”

  “I can imagine what it looks like.” She licked her lips. “And I have a very active imagination.”

  I glared at her. “Then you know he’s all big and hot and ripped and muscular and sexy and hot.”

  “That’s quite a list of adjectives.”

  “And then there’s me.”

  “Do you want some more adjectives? How about neurotic?”

  “I’m being serious! He’s going to want to get naked and when he does, he’ll be all like, ‘Oh, hey, look at me. I just came from the gym and my abs are so rock hard and perfect and I have thighs of steel.’ And then I’ll get naked and be all like, ‘Oh hey, look at me. I just came from Denny’s and I look like I swallowed a baby.’”

  “Well, if you are already thinking about swallowing babies, at least you’re on the right track,” she pointed out. Like a jerk.

  “Helena!”

  “Paul!”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “What do you want me to do?” she snapped. “I suppose I could say that Vince probably has a pretty good idea what you look like under there and he wants you anyway. I could tell you it doesn’t matter what you look like under there because you’re perfect just the way you are. I could tell you that out of everyone in the world, Vince has chosen you to fall in love with, though sometimes I wonder if it’s going to be worth it for him in the end, given how you’re doing nothing but bitching and moaning and trying to find ways to talk yourself out of the good that is right in front of you. I could tell you all of that, but then I would just be repeating myself because I’ve told you that time and time again. So, instead, I’ll just tell you to get over yourself before you fuck up the best thing that has ever happened to you and go get fucking laid. You get me?”

  “Dude,” I said in awe. “You are like a fucking Amazonian princess right now.”

  She was pleased. “Really? I was trying to be pretty scary.”

  “I was very scared. Like, quaking in my boots scared. And I’m not even wearing boots.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m scared. For real.”

  She sighed. “Don’t be. You’re going to rock his world. Just make sure to watch your teeth around his balls.”

  I was scandalized and I let it show, but I had run out of excuses. “Will you let Wheels out for me tonight?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  She leaned over and gave me a sticky kiss on my cheek. “Of course, baby doll. I’ll just take him home with me, how about that?”

  “Okay.”

  “Stop looking like you’re going to your death. Think about his penis in your man pussy and smile, for fuck’s sake.”

  Before I could even think of a retort, the crowd parted and Vince walked through like he was some hot version of Moses.

  “You ready?” he asked me with a grin.

  I nodded.

  “I was just telling Paul here that he needs to press against your taint right before you come,” Helena said. “It’ll make you jizz that much harder. So make sure you let him know right before you blow so he can push it real good.”

  “And that’s our cue to le
ave,” I said, grabbing Vince by the hand and pulling him away.

  “I’ll make sure he does it and let you know what happens,” he called back to her, which caused me to almost trip and fall flat on my face.

  “Have fun getting dicked, Paul!” she shouted as loud as she could. Everyone around us stopped talking to each other and started clapping as I pushed my way through toward the rear exit. Wolf whistles followed us, and a few people reached down and swatted our asses as we walked by. I kept my head down, my eyes at the ground in front of me, refusing to look up as apparently Helena was the Queen Bitch of the world and felt the need to announce my business to everyone (though, a small, quiet part of me didn’t have a problem with reminding me that I’d literally just been almost fucking Vince up against the wall like I was a bitch in heat. I hated that small, quiet part).

  We got outside and onto the street before I looked up again.

  “You ready?” Vince asked. He pulled my hand up and kissed my knuckles.

  Since running screaming in the opposite direction seemed off the table, I nodded.

  WE DIDN’T say much on the way back to his apartment. I didn’t know what he was thinking, and I didn’t want to ruin anything by saying something stupid, so I kept my mouth shut. I tried to turn off my brain so I couldn’t even think, but that was easier said than done. So instead, I focused on his hand still holding onto mine and the warm desert air flowing through my hair from the rolled-down window.

  His apartment was more of a condo, really, with big picture windows at the front that exposed the living room. I’d only been inside briefly, earlier today, when I’d followed him so he could put his new bike in a back bedroom before we left for the bar. It was sparsely set up, just a couch and a flat screen in the living room, boxes still piled up in a corner that he hadn’t gotten around to unpacking yet. I’d made fun of him for living that way until he reminded me that it was hard to bend over and unpack things after you’d been hit by a car. I’d looked for photos, but had seen none. His parents weren’t anywhere that I had seen.

  I wondered about Vince then, how that would affect the evening’s calisthenics, if it was even still going that far. Then I remembered I still had a black eye and a reddened nose from my wall face-punch the day before and didn’t think that could be remotely attractive. Helena’s warning voice shot through my head and I pushed her away.