A Fluid State

by Rob Browatzke

  Patrick tossed the shirt to the side and looked down. “Your turn,” he said.

  Andrew looked away. “My body is nothing like yours.”

  “What? This old thing?” He flexed his abs, flexed an arm. Andrew pumped his hips.

  “You’re beautiful,” Andrew said.

  “I like it when you call me that,” Patrick said. “Now get your shirt off.” Andrew half sat up and started to pull it off. “No. Actually let me.”

  Patrick put his hands on either side of Andrew’s body and slid them up, gathering fabric as he went. He lowered his head and kissed Andrew by the belly button then up along his ribs to a nipple. Andrew groaned again as Patrick took the nipple in his mouth.

  His torso was naked next to another man’s. He had another man’s nipple in his mouth. Why wasn’t he freaking out?

  Andrew shuffled under him, yanking his shirt over his head. “Fuck,” he said. “Your mouth!”

  Patrick looked up, grinning. “Like that?” He poked his tongue out and lightly licked the tip of Andrew’s erect nipple, earning him another moan. “I know how to work a nipple.”

  Andrew grinned back. “You do, but just wait.” Andrew squirmed upwards onto the bed, thrusting his hips and using his thighs to flip Patrick onto his back. Before Patrick could even blink, Andrew’s hands were around Patrick’s wrists, holding them above his head and Andrew’s mouth was on his again.

  Andrew’s hand slid down Patrick’s arm, his grip firm as it moved down his bicep, over his shoulder, down his pectorals and waist before latching onto the edge of Patrick’s pants.

  Patrick gasped. This was it. Could he follow through?

  “I want to suck your dick,” Andrew said, looking down at Patrick’s crotch, then directly into his eyes. “Is that fine?”

  Patrick could only nod. Andrew’s fingers spread out over Patrick’s stomach, then he turned his hand slowly and they slid into the top of his pants. Patrick’s dick was straining, aching to be released. Andrew’s thumb popped the button of Patrick’s pants, and his fingers reached into Patrick’s underwear and wrapped around his dick.

  Another man was touching him! Squeezing him! Running a thumb up his shaft and over his cockhead! It should feel so wrong, but it just felt incredible. He lifted his hips into the air, and Andrew pulled down pants and undies in one swift, fluid movement, before shuffling himself so he was in between Patrick’s legs, his hands on Patrick’s thighs. Patrick finished pulling his pants off with his feet, his eyes never leaving Andrew’s, which were glued to Patrick’s cock, laying exposed and thick across his body.

  Andrew reached down and wrapped a hand around Patrick’s dick again. He locked eyes. “Is this okay?” he asked, as he stroked it.

  “Yes. Oh God. Yes.”

  Andrew smiled. “Your dick is as gorgeous as the rest of you. It’s so hard.”

  Patrick groaned. “Suck it. Please.”

  Andrew raised his eyebrows. “Gladly,” he said, and leaned down, taking the tip into his mouth.

  “Fuck!”

  Andrew’s hand pulled his saliva down the shaft as he worked the dick more and more into his mouth. He looked up, pulled his mouth off, smiling. “Like that?”

  “Yes!” Patrick said, reaching down and grabbing Andrew’s head. Andrew took the hint and took Patrick back in his mouth. It was a blur of lips and tongue and hand, working every nerve in Patrick’s cock. He’d had head, but nothing like this. He already felt ready to come, ridiculously, almost embarrassingly fast.

  “Get up here,” he said, pulling Andrew’s mouth back towards his. Andrew’s hand didn’t stop stroking him though, working the shaft, the head. It felt so amazing, but then Patrick thought there was something he wanted even more than he wanted Andrew’s mouth back on him.

  “Roll over,” he said, flipping Andrew onto his back, his thighs gripping Andrew’s chest. Andrew’s hand was working his balls and Patrick leaned down, rubbing his cockhead against Andrew’s lips as they opened to take him in. “Take your pants off,” Patrick said. Andrew didn’t stop sucking, but Patrick could feel Andrew scrambling out of his jeans. He closed his eyes. He was about to touch another man’s dick. He was about to suck another man’s dick.

  When Andrew was naked under him, Patrick slid down. He felt Andrew’s dick hard against his ass, but he slid past it, his mouth finding Andrew’s nipples again. He reached down, his hand brushing past Andrew’s cock.

  “You don’t have to,” Andrew said.

  Patrick looked at him. “I do, actually.”

  He pushed himself off Andrew and looked down. Andrew’s cock was rigid against his belly, cut just like he was, but longer. He frowned a little at that. Did gay guys always have that sizing up moment? Not that this meant he was gay. It just meant... well, he still didn’t know what it meant and for now, he didn’t care. He reached down and grabbed Andrew’s cock, giving it a few tugs.

  “You’re so hard,” he said in amazement. Andrew’s cock pulsed. He stroked it again. Once. Twice.

  “Fuck, Patrick!”

  Patrick leaned down and licked the head. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he hadn’t expected his body to react like this. A drop of pre-cum glistened on the top of Andrew’s cock and Patrick eagerly tasted it. He licked his lips, let some saliva drip from his mouth down Andrew’s shaft, ran his fist up and down it one more time and then took it into his mouth.

  Andrew groaned. Patrick had certainly had enough head that he thought he had some clue what to do. He certainly knew what he liked being done to him, anyway. It was so much bigger than he expected though. There was no way he could take it all down his throat. Andrew’s balls were perfectly smooth and Patrick rolled them through his fingers, marvelling in every sensation.

  Andrew groaned again. “Keep that up and I won’t last long.”

  Patrick looked up and grinned. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to make Andrew shoot. He wanted to watch him explode and know that he was the one responsible for making it happen. “Good,” he said, and took Andrew back in his mouth.

  “Oh, that’s not fair,” Andrew said, and he swerved around, his hands and mouth all over Patrick’s body as he found his way back to Patrick’s dick. With Andrew’s mouth back over him, warm and wet and sucking, Patrick knew he wouldn’t last much longer either. There was so much more he wanted to do still, but he knew he needed to get off.

  Everything else could come later.

  “I want to see you come,” he said, spitting into his hand and jerking Andrew’s dick.

  “Keep that up,” Andrew said, his breath ragged, and then his mouth was back on Patrick.

  “I’m close,” Patrick said, feeling the load begin to build in his shaft.

  Andrew squeezed Patrick’s balls, and then a finger slid down and just lightly rubbed over his asshole. Patrick started to shoot, and Andrew clamped his mouth tighter. He let go of Andrew’s dick as his spare hand grabbed onto the sheets. His whole body was vibrating, and he swore to God he blacked out for a second.

  Andrew looked up at him, smiling. Patrick laughed a little and tried to catch his breath, but then saw Andrew reaching down to grab his own dick. “Oh no,” Patrick said. “Mine.”

  He grabbed hold of Andrew’s cock and straddled him, thighs pinning Andrew to the mattress. Faster and faster Patrick stroked. Andrew’s head was thrown back, he was gasping, and then suddenly his hips bucked and cum shot from his dick, the first spurt passing his shoulder. His hand slick, Patrick kept the motion up, milking every drop out of Andrew.

  “Stop, stop, please,” Andrew begged.

  Patrick gave one more long, slow stroke, and then lay down next to him. “That was.. I don’t even know.”

  “That was hot,” Andrew offered.

  “Hot doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He leaned over and kissed Andrew’s lips, tasting himself on him. Christy had never wanted to swallow. “You suck so good.”

  “It wasn’t my first time.” Andrew winked.

  “It was mine,�
� Patrick said.

  “I know, but you did more than great.”

  “Next time, maybe I’ll swallow back.”

  Next time? He had just had sex with a man for the first time in his life, and already he was thinking about a next time? Was he actually gay? Did it really matter? All that mattered was this hot man next to him.

  “Towel?” Andrew asked.

  “Through there,” he pointed to the en suite.

  Andrew hopped out of bed, his dick still half-hard and bouncing. Patrick lay back, enjoying the silhouette of him as he turned on the bathroom light. He couldn’t believe that had just happened. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

  ANDREW

  Next time? He was thinking about a next time?

  As Andrew towelled the cum off his body and cock, he couldn’t believe that had just happened. Patrick had been so direct with what he wanted. Had it been booze? Had it just been horniness? It didn’t seem possible.

  Patrick’s body had been everything Andrew had thought it would be. More even. Just the thought of kissing those muscles or sucking that cock had Andrew already getting hard again. That hadn’t happened since he was a teenager.

  Still, he reminded himself not to get carried away. This was an experiment, and even though Patrick had seemed to enjoy himself, based on the sizeable and delicious load Andrew had just taken, Andrew also knew that this wasn’t about to go anywhere.

  Gay men and straight men may suddenly bump in the drunken night, but that didn’t mean Patrick was about to come out and be Andrew’s boyfriend. That didn’t happen, except in movies and books.

  Andrew stepped back out into the bedroom. Patrick was lying on the bed, eyes closed. “Patrick?” he said quietly.

  Patrick didn’t stir. Wouldn’t be the first time a guy had fallen asleep right after. It was tempting to crawl into bed next to him, to spend the night, to pretend, if only for the night, that maybe something could happen. Then an image flashed in his head, Patrick freaking out in the morning, or Peter there, with a bunch of questions. No, it was best he went home.

  Quietly, he got dressed. He took one last look at Patrick on the bed, that amazing body, that still plump cock.

  “You’re being foolish,” he told himself, and he opened the door and crept out into the hall.

  It had been fun, super fun, and very hot, but it wasn’t going to become a regular thing, no matter what Patrick had said in the immediate afterglow. Patrick would sleep it off, and in the morning, if he even wanted to ever acknowledge it again, it would be written off as a drunken moment of curiosity, regretted and never to be repeated.

  On the drive home, that’s all Andrew could think about, and when he finally crawled into his own bed, it took him a long time to shake off the unease and fall asleep.

  §

  Andrew woke to his phone ringing.

  He rolled over and saw the clock. It wasn’t even nine. On a Sunday. Who called a gay man at that time on a Sunday morning? Who called anymore period? He was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but when he saw Patrick’s name on the screen, he knew avoiding whatever was coming wouldn’t make things any easier.

  “Hello?”

  “You left.”

  “Hours ago. You fell asleep after.”

  “I do that,” Patrick said. “Christy hated it too.”

  Patrick comparing him to his ex-wife didn’t mean anything, Andrew told himself. “I figured it was better I sleep at home.”

  “You should have said goodbye at least.”

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Oh, did I wake you?”

  “It’s the crack of dawn.”

  “It’s nine. Peter woke me up an hour ago.”

  “Another reason I left,” Andrew said. “Didn’t figure you wanted to explain to Peter why his dad had had a sleepover.”

  There was a moment of silence. “I guess I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe it was a good thing.”

  “Now, I’m going to get some more sleep.”

  “Before you do, I wanted to say-”

  This was it, Andrew thought. This is where Patrick said thanks for the orgasm but no thanks for the confusion and complication.

  “No need,” Andrew said. “Booze. I know how it goes.”

  “I wasn’t drunk, Andrew. I wanted to do everything we did. I hope you didn’t leave thinking you’d taken advantage of me.”

  “No, I-”

  “Because I am pretty sure I made the first move, and I am pretty sure I told you I want it to happen again,”

  “I didn’t think you meant that.”

  “Well, I did. In fact, I was thinking, maybe you should come over for supper after. Christy is picking up Peter around four. We could hang out.”

  Andrew’s heart jumped into his throat, but then immediately sunk as he realized what day it was. “I’d love to, but I can’t.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m booked for the show tonight at Torch. It’s not until eleven, but I’ll need to start getting ready around six.”

  “Oh. Maybe another time.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m free most of the week though. Or, you know, you could come tonight.”

  There was another silence. “To the gay bar.”

  “Yeah. I mean, if you wanted.”

  Now why had he offered that? That was a sure-fire way to drive Patrick away. Hell, drag seemed to be a good enough way to drive gay men away. It was practically guaranteed to scare off some guy who’d just sucked his first dick.

  “I don’t know,” Patrick said. “I mean, I’ve already seen you in drag, but I dunno about going to the club.”

  “Lots of straight people go, Patrick. It doesn’t mean you’re gay.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I don’t care about that. I just was thinking something a little more one on one. If you know what I mean. Barbecue. The yard. The usual.”

  “I’m committed to this,” Andrew said, thinking of every excuse he could offer the club to get out of it, but knowing he did not want to piss off Aaron and Rodrigo. “Tomorrow maybe?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And if you change your mind...”

  “Tomorrow is good. I’ll let you get back to sleep.” The phone clicked and Patrick was gone.

  Once again, his drag was cock blocking him. Shouldn’t it be a help here? After all, Patrick was straight and into women, and had even commented Ann was hot. Not that Andrew would ever have sex in drag, but that had to be what Patrick was responding to. It would be the ultimate irony if Ann had landed him a straight guy only for her to turn around and drive him away.

  (Better now than later)

  That was certainly true, too, he thought, rolling over and burying his face in a pillow. He needed more sleep.

  §

  He woke up a few hours later, feeling a bit more rested, and proceeded to keep himself busy around the house. Well, the apartment anyway. Spending so much time at Patrick’s lately, he was certainly viewing his abode with a bit of disappointment and displeasure. He should have a house, at his age. A house and a husband and a pension. Grown-up things.

  (Straight world things)

  He wasn’t bad off, for a self-employed drag entertainer. But he was single, and that certainly stretched his income tight. Still, there were hundreds of gay men his age no better off. Even worse off. At least he wasn’t blowing his income on blow, or drinking it all away, like so many people he knew.

  He could, if he had to, get ready in an hour or so, but it was certainly much more preferable to be able to do so gradually. His song for the night had been playing on repeat while he cleaned, tweaking his choreography while he did. Advantages of living alone? No one to judge you using the vacuum hose as a microphone.

  That might be the only advantage though. He certainly couldn’t think of any others. Maybe if he was like all the other gays his age, living in their luxury condos high above the gayborhood, living a life of hook-ups and come-downs. He’d never been like that though. He wanted th
e quiet of a life far away from the hustle and bustle.

  The problem was Ann. She loved the spotlight, and the spotlight loved her, and when it came down to it, Andrew loved Ann and wanted her to be happy too. So he had his apartment in suburbia by day, and she had her sequin gowns and free-pour gin by night. It was the perfect compromise.

  Or had been until Patrick had come along with his “let’s just hang out and barbecue every night like every night is a holiday and there’s no real problems because I’m a stupidly attractive straight white guy.”

  That wasn’t fair, and Andrew knew it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t imagine the stress of being in the army, the stress of being a divorced, single dad, the stress of coming to terms with what had to be at least some sort of bisexuality at this stage in the game. But it seemed like Andrew was the one with everything to lose here.

  He was jumping the gun again. He knew that. Patrick wouldn’t want to date. At most, this was a series of mutually pleasing orgasms.

  (So forget Patrick and get pretty)

  He shaved.

  He showered.

  He laid out the night’s outfit: a shimmery emerald cocktail dress that would bring out his eyes.

  He glued down his eyebrows and began the transformation. Slowly, Ann Moore emerged from the man in the mirror. Soon enough, he was tucked, and gowned, and smoothing down the red mahogany wig he’d selected. As always, the heels would wait until he arrived at Torch.

  Looking at himself one last time before he left the house, Andrew realized it was probably a good thing Patrick wasn’t coming. Ann was looking good, and it would only confuse him more.

  §

  The applause from Lucy’s performance gave way, and Ann made her way to the side of the stage. It was a good crowd, and she had a buzz going. Her first performance had earned her a decent tip line, several well wishers with a variety of shots. She shouldn’t be mixing, she knew. That’s what got her into hangover trouble in the morning, but it was part of the game of her name. What do you drink, they would ask. Gin and tequila and vodka Ann Moore, she’d reply, without fail.