Only See You

by JD Chambers

  “I want you inside me,” they whisper into my ear, the words and breath making my whole body feel thick and heavy, not just my dick. I groan and thrust my hips upward, as if I could make it happen right now. Breaths of laughter sprinkle my cheek.

  “Impatient.”

  “Mal.” My voice is a strained whisper to keep all the other mindless noises inside. “I want you so much. Want to be inside you.”

  I need this connection. Something real and tangible, when my world has turned upside-down. Mal leaves the bed and I whimper embarrassingly at the loss, but they return a second later and toss supplies onto the bed beside me.

  “I want you to watch me,” Mal says, straddling me again, but this time backwards. They reach back to get the lube, but their eyes never leave mine. Slick drips from their fingertips and they angle forward to rub it in a circle around their hairless dusky hole. Mal’s finger disappears inside and I just about lose my mind, wanting to chase that finger with my own, or my tongue. Anything to be a part of them.

  Mal’s other hand slaps at mine, which I hadn’t realized was already jerking myself.

  “I didn’t say you could do that,” Mal growls. “But since you need something to do with your hands, spread my cheeks, hold them open as wide as you can for me.”

  The ample flesh on their backside fills my palms as I pull them so taut that their hole stretches away from the finger inside. So they add more fingers, more lube, and I’m mesmerized. Who knew ass play was so erotic that just watching it would make me forget how to breathe.

  “Suit up, cowboy,” Mal throws over their shoulder, and my laugh punches my breath from my lungs. “We are in Oklahoma, after all,” they say with a wink.

  I rush to comply, but my fingers are so shaky I finally have to use my teeth to open the packet.

  “Tsk, tsk. What would your father the dentist say?” Mal smirks at my lack of ability to human, looking rightfully quite proud.

  “Please don’t talk about my father right now.”

  I get the condom rolled on as Mal turns around to face me and positions themself over my slick, straight member. They slowly work themself onto it, dropping a bit at a time and rolling their hips to adjust with each movement.

  The pressure is so tight and unlike anything I’ve ever felt around my dick before. I’m helpless to the sensations squeezing at my head and trickling down into my balls. With each roll of Mal’s hips, it releases a throb throughout my shaft, like their ass is literally milking my cock. When they’re finally fully seated, they continue the gentle rolls, which I’m thankful for because a few hard thrusts and this is all over.

  “Fuck, Mal,” I moan.

  “That’s what we’re doing, dummy.”

  I can’t help the laughter that escapes. Jesus, I had no idea sex could be fun and sensual at the same time. The laughter makes my dick jump inside them, and it must hit something right, because they make a sudden sharp intake followed by a high-pitched breathy moan.

  “Fuck, I could come just from that,” Mal cries. “Do it again.”

  “Make me laugh and I will.” I smirk at the sudden shift in power, which I doubt will last long.

  “Why did the graphic designer ride the engineer?” they ask in a shaky voice, their eyes closed and face turned toward the ceiling, still writhing in ecstasy.

  “Why?”

  Fast as a shot, they bring their face down and pin me with dark, pupil-blown eyes. “Because they wanted to fucking come, so fucking do that again.”

  I laugh and thrust against their rocking hips, pushing deeper each time. Mal’s been reduced to whimpers, and my laugh quickly changes to moans of my own when Mal begins to release jets of cum across my chest. Their ass tightens around my length, pulsing and milking me until I’m shooting my own release into the condom.

  Mal’s arms, which hold them upright over my chest, shake from exertion, and I roll us both to the side and gently pull myself from their body. I can feel the spunk dripping from my abs and chest, but I really don’t care about that right now. Mal’s hair is a tangled mess across their face, so I comb my fingers from their forehead and back around their ears, smoothing their hair with a calming touch. Their eyes are closed and their breaths even out into soft and steady puffs. I could stay like this all night, watching this beautiful person.

  I haven’t taken the time to think about what my dad asked of me or what it would mean. But with Mal lying here in my arms, there’s at least one thing I know for certain that I want.

  13

  Mal

  It’s Wednesday and I haven’t heard a peep from Parker since we returned. I’ve got nervous energy to burn, so I head to the Fort Collins rock climbing gym. I got a membership when I first moved here, but it lapsed because I worked so much that I never had time to enjoy it. Well, I have time in spades now.

  I can’t understand it. I’ve never connected with someone the way I thought I was connecting with Parker while we were in Oklahoma. Maybe things moved fast, but it’s not like we exchanged vows or anything. I know he has to work. I’m not expecting a date night every night, but I at least thought I’d get a text. Nothing.

  Well, I am certainly not the type to wait around, so after two days of staring at the computer, willing jobs in the area to magically appear, I decided to get my tight tush in gear. And after my workout, I’m going to show up to every marketing and design firm in Fort Collins and get myself employed.

  The climbing gym looks a little like a futuristic playroom for toddlers – bright colors, crazy shapes, and cushiony surfaces. I stuff a plain, boring flyer into my bag. If I have this much time on my hands, I might consider another membership. Maybe they’d let me have a membership in exchange for design services. I think it as a joke, but seriously, by looking at their marketing materials, anyone would think it’s a clunky old gym, and not the state-of-the-art climbing and training complex that they’ve got going.

  All of the auto-belay routes are taken, so the girl working the front desk makes an announcement asking if anyone else is looking for a partner. It doesn’t take long before I get a volunteer.

  “Hi, I’m Nathan,” says a beautiful man with dark skin that accentuates his hazel eyes. “You need a partner?”

  “Always. Are you sure you can keep up with me?”

  “Won’t be a problem,” he says, and we head to one of the overhang routes. “I convinced my friends to come with me, but they’re beginners.” His gaze travels to one of the intro walls, and I see two guys with baseball caps looking more interested in goofing around than in climbing. The members of a nearby class, trying to concentrate on the instruction they’re receiving by one of the staffers, look like they want to strangle the two boneheads. “And obviously not that into it. They’re more upset that there aren’t that many girls in tight pants.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t care about that,” I joke. “Unless it’s my tight pants they’re ogling.”

  We talk about our previous climbing experience as we get geared up, and I realize that my flirter is broken. With a guy this nice and attractive – hell, nice would be optional – I’d usually be all over it. But while I want to be friendly, I have no further interests. I think Parker broke me.

  During the course of our conversation, I mention how a friend’s mom was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I’ve also mentioned Oklahoma, mountain biking, and engineers. It’s a good thing my brain has more to do than focus on Parker.

  “Man, that’s a bitch,” Nathan says, and claps my bare shoulder, possibly leaving it there a little longer than necessary, but with my flirter broken, I’m not quite sure. “My grandma had that, and it tore my mom up.”

  Suddenly I’m slightly more hopeful that maybe Parker hasn’t reached out to me because he’s still dealing with the news about his mom, and then I feel terrible that I’m even thinking like that. Shit. Could I possibly get more self-absorbed?

  The climbs go quickly. We both are at a similar skill level, and I’m rappelling down from the top of m
y second ascent when his friends come over.

  “How is it that you got the only hot girl here, Nathan?” one of them asks. When I reach the ground and turn around, the harness highlighting my package, their mouths drop open.

  “Dude,” snickers the other friend. “You thought a guy was hot.”

  The one who said it has turned almost purple. “It’s not my fault he looks like a girl from behind. Fucking trap.”

  “Hey, watch it,” Nathan says to the guys, but I don’t even care. I’m trying to get out of the harness as quickly as I can. I came here for stress relief, not to have even more piled on.

  “We don’t mean, like you, Nathan,” the snickering friend says. “You’re not, like, a sissy gay.”

  I finally get all of the gear off and toss it at Nathan, then grab my bag and head for the door.

  “Wait, Mal,” Nathan says as he chases after me. “I’m sorry. Those guys are assholes.”

  “Your friends, you mean?”

  “Frat brothers, actually.”

  I turn on my heel and dig a perfectly manicured nail into his chest. “I dated a frat guy. Nicest man ever. He would have never allowed anyone to talk about me like that, so the fact that all of you are frat boys is no excuse for also being a pathetic waste of a human being.”

  I stalk to my truck and slam the door. Fuck. Now, not only am I stressed, but thinking of Parker and how unusually kind and totally amazing he was. I want to break down and text him, but I won’t.

  But then I remember about his mom and wonder if maybe he’s hurting and needs me to be the one to reach out? Fuck. I have no idea how to relationship.

  “Can I get a refill?”

  I take my mug up to the counter at Espresso Patronum. After showering and changing post-climbing gym disaster, I’ve been caffeinating at my favorite spot in Old Town Fort Collins so that I can look through the papers and hopefully discover more places to take my resume. Caffeine is probably not my friend right now, I’m still so wound up after the episode at the gym, but it’s keeping my hands and mouth occupied so I don’t stress-gnaw my nails.

  I don’t even care if I’m a good fit for the job, style-wise or customer-wise. I’m willing to look at the university or even print shops at this point. I just don’t want to leave the area, and I’m not too proud to admit that Parker is the main reason.

  A hand waves in front of my face, and Jay, the cute barista, raises his eyebrows at me and my mug dangling from his fingertips.

  “Must be some guy to have you zoning like that.”

  “Guy, job, life, ugh.”

  “Ah, so it’s a muffin kind of day,” Jay says, and points to the bakery case. “We’ve got Turtle muffins on special and they are so good, you’d give up sex for them.”

  There’s a brief internal debate over carbs versus sex, but Jay’s right. With my mood, it’s a muffin day.

  “Bring it on,” I sigh in defeat.

  “Go on back.” He waves me to my table. “I’ll heat it up for you first.”

  I return to my table and fold up the newspaper so someone else can use it. I’ve already copied down the info for the two potential positions. My laptop is up to the university’s job site, where I submitted for a position with their marketing and outreach department. My fingers hover over the keyboard, protesting against my brain which is telling them to start searching outside of the northern Colorado area.

  “Mal! What are you doing here?”

  Craig appears by the side of the table and leans down for a hug.

  “Hey, hon. On the prowl. For a job, not a man, unfortunately.”

  “Right, I heard about that from Parker. I saw you through the window and thought I’d stop in and see what brought you into town.”

  I motion to the chair across from me and Craig takes a seat, just as Jay sets down a steaming muffin that smells divine.

  “Let me know how you like it,” he says and acknowledges Craig’s presence with a nod, then sashays back to the counter.

  Craig’s face has drained of color, and I ask if everything is okay.

  “Yeah, just trying to place him.” Craig quickly schools his face to normal and taps his fingers against the table. He’s trying a little too hard for nonchalant, but I can’t imagine why. “I think maybe he dated Ben or something.”

  I shrug off Craig’s weird behavior and laugh. “That’s us Fort Collins queers. We’re an incestuous bunch, aren’t we?”

  Craig’s eyes bulge. “You mean you dated Jay too?”

  My laugh is even louder. “God, no. I meant we both dated Ben. Well, tried to date Ben. I can’t imagine Jay and I would match up that well, if you know what I mean.”

  Craig doesn’t look like he knows what I mean, though. He looks more like he’s swallowed a frog and is about to be sick.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Fine. Fine. Just going to go grab a coffee.”

  Weird, but by the time he returns with his coffee, he seems to be back to normal.

  “So you and Ben are good? Zach was so worried about you two blowing up our house the other night,” Craig says with a fond smile before curling his lips around his to-go cup.

  “Well, Zach doesn’t know me very well, then, because I would never. I’m much more subtle in my vindictiveness. But yeah, we’re getting along now. He apologized at your dinner party, and we agreed to never attempt to date again.”

  “That reminds me,” Craig says between sips. “Do you do designs for websites and stuff?”

  I’m sure there was a train of thought there that I missed, because I’m not seeing how vindictive leads to websites, but whatever. “Sure, why?”

  “Zach’s business has really taken off, and he was hoping to get a better website going. He did the one he has now himself, so it’s really basic and not very professional-looking.”

  I shrug, looking at the stack of resumes that I still need to hand-deliver this afternoon, and weigh the likelihood of any of them working out. “Well, it’s not like I’m pressed for time. Give him my number. I’d be happy to help.”

  “I’m so glad. I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I keep forgetting. Gotta get home to my man, but thanks. Knowing Zach, he’ll probably call you as soon as I tell him the news, so have your phone on.” One arm has made it into his coat, while the other raises his coffee in a farewell salute, and then Craig is out the door.

  At least I’ll have something to do to pass the time. And I’ve always enjoyed the interactivity of website design. I hope Zach lets me have fun with it.

  Parker would be another one of those things to keep me busy, but I’ve decided I’m giving him another day. I don’t want to be pushy, but I also want him to know I’m here for him. What if he regretted what we did over the weekend? I thought it was amazing and fun and I want to do it again. And again. Jesus, I want to avoid moving just so I can stay near the man. But it’s all these unknowns floating around that have me antsy and unsure, and apparently so on edge that I blow up at total strangers at a climbing gym. Christ, what a day.

  My untouched muffin taunts me. Well, if I won’t be getting sex with Parker any time soon, I might as well enjoy it.

  14

  Parker

  Thursday after work, I head to the Fort Collins bike shop to pick up my brand-new mountain bike. I placed the order on Monday during my lunch break. I still haven’t made a decision about moving back home for my mom, but I’ve decided I’m going to take advantage of the time I have with Mal.

  I also had a roof rack installed, and it took the guy at the bike shop less than thirty seconds to get my bike up on top of my car and securely locked in place. I don’t know what kind of sorcery or deal with the devil he had to make to be able to do that, because I’ve been struggling with lowering the arm for two minutes now. I take off my winter coat and roll up my sleeves. Fuck you, bike rack. I’m serious now.

  Finally some weird synchronized twist and tug unlocks the arm, but I’m so focused on the arm that I haven’t been stabilizing the res
t of the bike, which crashes onto my head. Yes, folks, I’m a world-class engineer.

  “Ow, fuck!”

  “Are you okay?” a stranger calls from across the parking lot. Nice to know I had witnesses.

  “Yeah, thanks!” I wave back, and try to lift the bike, which is still stuck because I’ve forgotten to unclamp the back tire.

  By the time I’ve finally got the bike down from the car and up the stairs, my nice work shirt is soaked with sweat and marked with black dirt and tire streaks.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Ben asks when I clamber through the doorway, clumsily ramming the bike into every nearby wall. “Whoa, there.” He jogs over from his spot eating nachos in front of the TV, and gracefully takes the bike from my hands, carrying it into the living room and setting it against a bare wall. Fucker.

  “I bought a bike.”

  “No shit,” Ben says. “Did you buy the special possessed model that runs you over?”

  “Ha ha. Very funny,” I say on my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. “Mal offered to show me some good bike trails. I thought I’d take them up on it.”

  “Really?” Ben follows me in and grabs a soda from the fridge. “First a road trip, and now you’re going to go biking with Mal?”

  “Sure. What’s wrong with that?” I say around a cool swallow that shouldn’t taste this good. If wrestling with the bike took that much energy, god knows what the actual trail will do to me. And I’m in great shape, damn it.

  “Nothing.” Ben shrugs and heads back to his nachos and TV. “I just wouldn’t have expected the two of you to become friends, is all. You seem so different.”

  “And who would you expect?” I ask, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice as I stand beside the couch and glare down at him. “Shelby? And here I thought you were the least judgy person I know.”

  Ben seems taken aback, like he wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction to his comment. “No, you’re right. I was being judgy. I think it’s awesome that you’re friends with Mal.”