Thankfully, Darcy had promised to take him that far.
As she continued to fuck him and Curtis touched himself, he kept thinking of Adrian and that unanswered question about his sex life. Curtis tried to push the thoughts away, but they came back more and more. Finally, he gave up, and clutched his dick in his hand. Curtis felt closer to Adrian in a way he hadn't before—but he also felt distanced from him, too. He tried to imagine Adrian in a bar, getting blown by a guy the way he had described. Then, Curtis imagined himself as the guy who blew Adrian. Curtis saw the same elated orgasm face he had seen on Adrian ten years earlier, but knew that still wasn't enough to get off to now. As Curtis visualized Adrian inside of him, fucking him the way Darcy was tonight, he was finally pushed over the edge.
"Fuck—I—" Curtis moaned out. He felt come coat his fingers and chest, before he flipped down onto the bed.
Darcy kept going, and even though this was what he had wanted, it didn't seem to matter to Curtis anymore.
*~*~*
Curtis lay in bed next to Darcy, both still naked and pink from their orgasms. Darcy no longer wore the strap-on, but it was close enough to remind Curtis each time he looked at it. He felt open and fucked, and like he wished he hadn't quit smoking when he was twenty-five.
"Well," Darcy said. She turned over and kissed Curtis quickly. "That was fun."
"Yeah."
"We should do it again sometime."
"Yeah," Curtis said, his grin slightly weak. He hoped Darcy just thought he was tired. She nuzzled against his neck, then got up to clean up in the bathroom. Alone on the bed, Curtis let out a breath. He scrubbed his hands over his face.
It was fun. But it just wasn't the same.
Chapter Eleven
"So," Adrian asked, holding the phone against his chin. "How was it?"
"How was...Oh."
Adrian could practically hear Curtis's grin on the other side. Adrian was in his office, late into the evening on the holiday Easter Monday. He'd opted to work today though he knew he'd get very little done since no bank or registry office was open. Simone was working, though—showing a house across town, since Easter was the only time the couple had off—and Kayla was at a birthday party that Simone was going to pick her up from later. Adrian figured now, while the house was empty, was the perfect time to call Curtis. Adrian rose from his desk and closed the office door to make sure he wouldn't be disturbed even if Simone and Kayla came home early.
"Is this an okay time?" Adrian asked. "I know I didn't text first, but I figured with the holiday, we'd be okay. Happy Easter, by the way."
"Happy Easter."
Again, Adrian could hear the smile from Curtis. He also heard the sudden click of a door and rustling of fabric on a couch. Adrian's heart leapt in his throat as Curtis's voice came back on the line, a little huskier than before.
"I'm good now. Pretty sure D is outside with the girls, anyway."
"Okay, cool. So. Have you tried it yet?"
"Yeah, man. A night or two ago."
"And?"
"Do you want the full story?" Curtis asked, his voice heavy. "All the little details?"
"Yeah," Adrian said, easing into his office chair. "I'll listen to whatever you tell me."
"Whatever, huh? Well, let me start at the beginning, okay?"
"That seems about right for any story."
Curtis laughed a little and the sound made Adrian bite his lip. We're not even hiding this anymore. We're just going right for it. He wasn't sure if he was elated or worried about this fact. There wasn't much time to think before Curtis began.
"Darcy and I were on the couch. I gave her the gift, and thankfully, she was into it right away. We went back to the bedroom and she got naked first. Probably because I was so, so nervous. But she was good, you know? She let me go down on her first, before she fucked me."
"Did it hurt?"
"No. I mean, yeah, it was different. But, uh, I kept in mind what you told me."
"What I told you?" Adrian asked, then pressed his lips together so tightly his thought he'd break his jaw. He was already hard in his pants. They really weren't hiding this anymore. Just straight up sex talk for the others' benefit. Though from the tone of Curtis's voice, edged with desire and excitement, he could tell he was also having fun.
"Yeah, the whole lean back, push into it. I ... I thought about you—your advice—a lot during it. I was on all fours, too. Facing the wall. Part of me wished I had music. Sometimes sex is better with music."
Adrian swallowed, but his throat felt dry. Oh, God. He couldn't shake the image of Curtis on all fours, Darcy behind him, fucking him. He wanted to know all the details. How big was the cock? What colour? And more about how it felt. Adrian used his imagination to fill in what he couldn't get from Curtis, and what he was too afraid to ask.
"Blue cock. Big, but nothing obscene. Probably beginner size, you know? Kind of like training wheels for ass fucking."
Adrian bit back a laugh. "I know what you mean. Tell me more, though."
"Um. Well, once Darcy had it on, it was easy to get inside of me. But it was so deep. I had never felt something like that before. I think I understand completely what you're talking about."
"Yeah?" Adrian ran a hand over his jeans. Fuck. He was so goddamn hard. "You should take a picture."
"Hmm?"
"Of the strap-on. Can I see it? Or is that weird?"
Curtis laughed. "I don't know if there is anything weird between us. We're just talking, right?"
Adrian felt a slight stab in his stomach. Just talking, right? Ugh. He wanted to roll his eyes, but he felt his phone buzz.
"I just sent you a picture," Curtis explained.
Adrian opened the image. The picture was of the strap-on still in the box—clearly taken before it was used. Adrian grinned. Curtis had probably taken the picture, wished to send it, but then chickened out. It wasn't quite the same model as Simone's, but familiar enough. Very basic—Curtis had been right, probably the beginner's model. His eyes lingered over the image for another moment, before he clicked back onto the phone with Curtis.
"Very nice. Thanks for showing me."
"Not at all. Now, uh. Where was I? Was I done?"
"The story? No, not really. But tell me as much as you want." Adrian paused. He ran his hand over his own cock, feeling the head push up against his pants. He undid one button with his free hand, before he stopped. Should I? Why not? We're just talking, after all. Adrian rolled his eyes as he slid a hand into his pants. What did touching like this matter if they were just talking?
"Darcy went really, really slow at first. She rocked her hips and was really gentle. She was afraid she'd hurt me, and so was I, really, but it's different when you expect it. When you move with the pain, and then push back. I don't know what else to say, other than your advice was perfect."
"I'm glad." Adrian squeezed his dick, growing frustrated. Was that it? Nothing else? "You thinking of trying any other positions?"
"Yeah, maybe. I want to do what you told me about. The g-spot orgasm thing. It…it didn't really work this time around."
"Yeah, sometimes that's hard. It may work better if you're riding the cock, though."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I…uhh, back in university, one of the guys I fucked was really, really big. Surprisingly so. I didn't think I could take him, but I was young and thought I was invincible, so we were determined to make it work. I got on top of him—it still hurt, but we went really slowly, and eventually, I was there." Adrian paused and heard the slight edge to Curtis's breathing. Adrian's cock twitched in his hand, and he rubbed himself gently as he continued his story. "He jerked me off when I was on him. Just easier than way, you know? We made out as I occasionally rocked on his dick to get used to it, before he eventually finished me off. After I came in his hand, he pretty much lifted me up—he was a huge guy all over—and laid me on my back and fucked me. It hurt a lot less that way, more pressure and tightness than anything, but God. It was so, so
good. My body wasn't really mine anymore; he had complete control. It was really good."
"Uh-huh." Curtis seemed to swallow on the other end and laughed a little. "I don't know if I could get Darcy to fuck me like that. She'd have to get a fork lift to pick me up. But maybe... It's an idea."
"Yeah, just an idea. I'm full of them." Adrian paused. He listened closely on the other end as silence lapsed between them. "What are your ideas, Curtis?"
"Uh. Nothing. I'm still thinking about last night."
Adrian heard the subtle rub of fabric. "Uh-huh? Are you touching yourself as you think?"
"What?" Curtis's voice pulled back from the fantasy tone he had before. "No..."
"It's okay," Adrian said. He held his cock in his hand, pushed out of the fabric of his boxers, the head covered in precome. "You should touch yourself. It's your story, your ideas. You should have fun with it."
"But you're talking too. It's..." Curtis was quiet for a while. "Are you, Adrian?"
Adrian's throat made a noise he didn't permit as his cock twitched in his hand. "Uhhh. Ummm. Would it be weird if I was?"
"No, actually. I... I might be too. But it's just—"
"Talking. It's just talking."
"Right."
"Okay then," Adrian confirmed. He gripped his cock, going back and forth. He hoped Curtis could hear the rush of fabric and skin. "So, what are you thinking about? Finish your story. Or tell me what you want next time?"
Adrian thought he heard Curtis swallow. He imagined his Adam's apple moving up and down. He ran his hand along his cock and touched the skin. "Come on, man. I've talked a lot. I want to hear from you."
"Uhh, okay. I like the idea of being on my back and being fucked. So I can look into the other person's eyes. It was hard, with D behind me. All I could look at was the wall or sheets. So my mind wandered a lot. But on my back, I'd be able to feel and see. I think that would be better."
"Uh-huh. I like eye contact, too." Adrian squeezed his eyes shut and thought of Dave. He looked at him when he sucked him off; it made Adrian's knees shake and his body spasm. But each time Adrian came, he had always closed his eyes moments before. At first, Adrian wondered if he had always done that with men—or if it was just shame rearing its ugly head again. But last week, when Adrian had picked up another guy at a bar—someone named Gary, he had done the same thing. Only last time, as Adrian closed his eyes to come, he pictured Curtis between his legs. So not shame, but fear and desperation.
"Keep talking," Adrian spoke into the phone. His eyes were still closed. "Come on."
"Um. I don't know...I just..."
Adrian could hear the fabric move back and forth over the phone. Curtis could never concentrate when they fucked around in university, so of course he was still like that now. Adrian wanted to beg him to talk about what he was doing to himself, but even that seemed to be crossing a line he couldn't do yet. We're just talking, just talking, Adrian told himself over and over again. We're not dating, not fucking. So Adrian just imagined them, as they were, as two guys on the phone getting off.
When Curtis trailed off on his end, and breathed slightly heavier, Adrian knew he had come. His stomach twitched with the realization and he felt the wet heat on his hand, and partly on his shirt, too. Oh, fuck, he thought, but didn't really care. Endorphins flooded his system, and when he still heard Curtis's breathing on the other end, he felt better.
"Okay, so," Curtis said after a few moments. He was giggly, almost, his voice high and fucked out. It sounded so good to Adrian, he couldn't even fathom. He bit his lip as he pictured Curtis's pink cheeks.
"So," Adrian echoed. He hoped Curtis could hear the tremble in it and know it was because of him.
"I guess... that was my story."
"And mine," Adrian added. "Thanks for… thanks for sharing, I guess."
Curtis laughed. He let a few light-hearted remarks about how his shirt was ruined, which Adrian echoed, before a calming quiet lapsed over them. Adrian hoped this feeling would last, before any crushing weight of what they done descended.
"Do you have anything?" Curtis asked. "Not stories, but, news? Not necessary like mine, but...you know."
Adrian grinned. He glanced down at the piles of paperwork on his desk and the stacks of cardboard boxes Simone had left in his office overnight. For moving, he remembered. Whenever that happened.
"Yeah, I actually do have some interesting news. I got side-tracked for a while with the whole navigating of bar scenes again, I guess."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Simone and I are thinking of moving."
"Not anyplace far, I hope?"
Adrian could sense the fear in Curtis's voice. He wished they were face to face again, so he could squeeze his shoulder. He settled for a calm, soothing tone of voice. "No, no. Just to a bigger place. We love Toronto too much to leave."
"Bigger place?"
"Yeah. Simone's pregnant. We just found out this morning."
Chapter Twelve
"What?"
Curtis nearly dropped the phone. If he hadn't been bent over the couch, still a mess from their prior conversation, he might have. But instead he gripped the phone so hard he heard the plastic case crack. There was no way Adrian was telling the truth. And after what they just did? Curtis felt bile churn in his stomach. We're dads, we're dads, he thought to the beat of his heart. We shouldn't have done this.
"Yeah," Adrian said lightly. "We've been thinking of having another kid for years, but we always put it on the back burner. We started to try again this winter, thinking we may as well move out and get a nicer place. We can afford it."
"Really? I had... no idea."
"We wanted to keep it hushed, I think, mostly because we didn't want Kayla to get excited before it happened. It's easier to plan kids when they're all young and have no idea. But Kayla's perceptive." Adrian chuckled. "She'll probably figure it out before we tell her."
Curtis's head spun. They started in winter? When—before or after the Pixies show? He didn't know why this timeline suddenly mattered to him, but it did. That's when these conversations started, Curtis realized. When he had started to pay a lot closer attention to his phone and think about Adrian far too often.
"Are you sure?" Curtis asked instead, but that felt equally wrong.
"Yeah," Adrian said. "We had a lot of discussions about it. Especially with the whole change in our relationship."
"Uh-huh. Well..." Curtis trailed off. He saw all the stray hours in the day—not enough to do anything substantial with, but enough to hang out and fuck around with—disappear. In a couple months, Adrian wouldn't have time to go to bad cover bands or hang out in the dark and listen to The Bends. Those weren't huge adventures, but they took time. Babies ate up time. Just when Curtis thought he was getting close to the life he had had ages ago—different but also better—it was gone again.
"Well," Curtis said again, still stuttering but not caring. "I'm... happy for you."
"Thanks. It's still really new—she's only a few weeks. Haven't even had it confirmed by doctors, just did the home test. But we're excited."
"Of course."
Curtis grew quiet, and so did Adrian. When he heard Adrian sigh on the other end, Curtis knew that it meant their conversation was winding down. He gripped his phone tightly again, stilling clinging onto some kind of hope.
"I guess I should head out... clean up..."
"Yeah, but—" Curtis started, thinking frantically. "I have news, too. I'm going... I'm going to get a tattoo next week."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I want to. Haven't made the appointment yet, but I've been itching to get one." Curtis looked down at his arms in the short sleeved shirt he was wearing. The blue and black ink from his inner arm piece stuck out. He closed his eyes and imagined the pinprick of pain, then the release. "I haven't gotten one in such a long time. Not since I stopped going to shows as often. I suppose that's probably why I want one again."
"Yeah, I get it. I remember you getting your first.
"
Curtis grinned. His first had been the small anchor piece on his inner ankle, done by some nameless artist in a strip mall that people had talked up while he was in school. Curtis had always wanted an anchor with his family name in it, but had always put it off. When he met Adrian, he told him about the piece, and he seemed to be the only person genuinely interested. They had gone to the tattoo parlour after a show one weekend, gotten it done, and then watched it heal together.
"You should come with me," Curtis said. "When I get this new one. It'll be like old times."
"Okay," Adrian said right away. Curtis could hear his smile. "Maybe I will."
*~*~*
The next time Curtis's regular tattoo artist—Ernie—was free, three weeks had passed from their last phone conversation. It was now halfway through April, with spring's green grass and sunny afternoons now more prominent than before.
"Thanks for being patient," Ernie said when Curtis and Adrian walked inside the tattoo place. Ernie leaned forward, giving Curtis a firm handshake while eyeing Adrian. "You know what it's like at the end of the semester in here. The season of walk-ins. Kids finish their exam, their parents give them a little money, and everyone wants a small butterfly on their hip or the words Live Love Laugh on their arm."
"Or an anchor?" Curtis teased.
Ernie chuckled. His gauged ears dangled slightly and his necklace of St. Jude bounced as he moved. Ernie had only been Curtis's regular artist since he moved to Toronto. Up until that point, Curtis had gone to random hole-in-the-wall tattoo places he could find around him. With the advantage of Google, he managed to weed out the bad places from the good, and locate decent artists. He often got walk-ins, not real appointments, because he usually only had a couple hundred for small flash pieces like that first anchor. When Curtis got a real job with a steady income, his first thought for spending it, other than concert tickets, had been more tattoos. Better ones. He came up with shipwreck idea then, gathering together a few composite drawings from the web, then set out to hunt down the best artist he could find. As soon as he emailed Ernie with his designs, and he had responded with a Buzzcock lyric in his email signature, Curtis knew he had found the right place. Even if Ernie still gave Curtis a lot of grief over his first anchor tattoo, since it had now become a common design everyone from small college girls to burly sailors had hidden somewhere on their bodies.
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