Page 58 of By the Pint

He barked out his laughter, but his teasing had backfired. He was forgetting, or choosing to ignore, that I saw his thoughts and reactions, that he could hide nothing from me. He was making himself just as aroused as he was making me.

I spoke into his mind. Couldn’t seem to help myself.Do you do it often? Think of me when you … Think of the noises I made?

Casey searched my eyes. “Every night. Sometimes twice.” He laughed again. “I don’t like to show up for these lessons with a loaded gun, if you know what I mean. Only I didn’t get time this evening to let the thing off. So …” He mimed cocking a shotgun. Made the sound effects too. Held the air in his puffed-out cheeks like it was ready to blow.

Who even was this?

Playful Casey, I decided, was irresistible.

I’d forgotten what words were. Casey watched my mouth as my tongue came out to wet my lips. “What do you, um …” I shook my head. This night was heading in the wrong fucking direction. C not D. C not D. “Can we focus on something else?Pick a different thought to hide. Or maybe call it a night.” I had the sudden urge to rush back to my suite and relieve this burgeoning pressure.

“We could call it a night if you like. I seem to have a rather pressing issue I need to address, anyway.” Casey shifted on the ledge. The bulge at the front of his suit pants became silhouetted against the starry sky and the course lights.

“You’re gonna” — I cleared my throat — “go and do that?”

I could do it here,he thought. And I almost fell off the ledge. Not that I wouldn’t have been able to save myself, but still. After I didn’t respond for a few seconds Casey said,I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to switch it off. You make me …

Without warning, a memory triggered in Casey’s mind, seizing me, and pulling me in. Him in the Constellations bathroom. In the shower. Water hit the back of my — his — bowed head, one muscled arm braced against the wall, his chest rose and fell, his abdomen muscles twitched. His fingers wrapped around his cock. His fist pumped. My voice echoed in his thoughts,If I do, this’ll be over. I’ll be finished.Followed by me growling, like an animal. I had no idea I did that. And then,Casey!In the memory, ribbons of white shot from his cock, and painted the tiles.

The fly of my trousers bit into my own flesh.

“I hate you,” I said.

“You didn’t have to watch that.”

“You know that’s not how it works. I didn’t have a choice.”

Casey looked into his lap. The tops of his cheeks and the tips of his ears pinked. “Yeah, I do. Sorry. Maybe we should take a break?”I’ve been trying to wind you up, but all I’ve done is work myself into this … horn frenzy. I just can’t seem to stop thinking about you. Like that.

“A break sounds like a good idea,” I said unnaturally loudly. I chose not to dwell on hislike thatcomment. “You’ve been working hard this past week. I’ll call Jean, and get her to order you some more Mai Tais. There’s an AlaeMart in the city. They’d have a couple of crates here by the morning.”

You could come with me if you like. Back to my room? Lend a friend a helping hand?he said.

I buried my eyes behind my fingertips.

When I didn’t speak for a full minute, Casey filled the silence, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started th—”

“Casey,” I whined. Casey stopped talking. “I want to. So fucking badly. But … I—”

He placed his hand on my knee. “You’ve taught me how to hide my thoughts, so I ought to at least try. I’ll keep them from you next time.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to apologise. We’ve both pissed all over each other’s boundaries. Maybe it’s time we started respecting them. But I really do need to head back to the room. For, like, at least a minute. One minute thirty.”

I laughed, and Casey pushed to his feet.

“Are you going to … do that?” I asked, watching him descend the volcano ladder.

“Nope,” he lied.

19.

Casey

The walk back to our rooms happened in relative silence. At least, for me it was silent. Only the sounds of my footsteps trekking over the various surfaces of the mini golf course, the paths leading up to the hotel and the carpets of the hotel’s corridors, could be heard. Dima floated the whole way. Sometimes, when I looked at him, he’d move his legs a little, as though only just remembering walking involved lifting them.

As much as I tried to keep the walk silent for Dima, I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop my thoughts from whirring about. Couldn’t get the dirty images and sounds into my locker quick enough. Sometimes he would stop ‘walking’, pace backwards, decide better of it, and catch me up again. Sometimes he would bite down on his fisted hand. Or pinch the bridge of his nose, or mentally whimper,No, no, no, no.And I would apologise, and promise him I’d try harder, and then, of course, immediately replace those images with filthier ones.

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