Page 13 of Sicken of the Calm
“How ‘bout you lay on the bed andI show you?” he says and I think,shit. I don’t know what I wasexpecting, but that wasn’t it. I glace at the innocently made bed and then backat Ezra. He says nothing, pushing me neither one way or another, not even withhis expression, and it’s almost that which gives me the courage to get up.
“On your back,” he says simply. Iwant my head to clear like it did the other day, but it won’t. There’s anunpleasant awareness of my limbs, the air around me, the bare sheet on my armsas I lay down. There’s anticipation and willingness there, but I’m not hard,not even really turned on, too caught up in the noisy stream of my thoughts.
“Put the pillows to the side – soyour head’s on the bed.” He’s followed me with the chair in his hands, settingit down so it faces my prone body on the bed. He sits down, and I can barelylook at him. I stare at the ceiling, willing myself to calm down, but thesilence that follows just makes it worse. I’m just about to say something, toget up, when he speaks.
“We’re just gonna relax yourbody. I’m not going to touch you. I’m not going to ask you to touch yourself.Ok?”
I have to wet my lips before Ican reply, “Ok,” but I’m not sure it’s the truth.
“I’m going to get a glass ofwater from the kitchen,” he says and gets up. I nod, even if he can’t see me,having already turned away. I close my eyes, and when that makes me feel toovulnerable, open them again.
“Sit up a little,” he says,startling me slightly as he sits on the edge of the bed. Dumbly, I do as I’mtold.
“I’m going to touch the back ofyour head,” he says. I look at him, but his expression is inscrutable. Irealize he’s waiting for my permission, and I nod. He moves to cradle the backof my head as he brings the edge of the glass he retrieved to my lips. Withoutthought, I open my lips and drink, and it’s not until that moment that Irealize how parched I was. I drink greedily until it’s all gone, not eventhinking to take the glass from Ezra and do it myself. When I’m finished, hewipes the stray drops that fell on my chin. A knot I hadn’t been fully aware ofloosens in my chest.
“More?” he asks, and I shake myhead. He moves back, putting the glass on the bedside table, and I lay back down.
“Ok. Can you close your eyes, oris that too much?” he says. I close my eyes, trying it out. It feels betternow, maybe because Ezra is closer, but not great. I open them again.
“Not – not right now.”
“Ok. No worries,” he says, andI’m relieved to hear no disappointment in his tone. “I’m going to tell you torelax your body little-by-little, ok? Starting with your toes, up to yourhead.” The pause he leaves feels expectant, so I nod. “Good. Start with yourtoes. When I say to squeeze, I want you to squeeze them tight, and when I sayrelax, I want you to relax them. I want you to concentrate as much as you canon that release of tension, on the feeling of weightlessness. Ok. Now…squeezethem tight…and relax.”
I do as I’m told, all the whilewondering where he’s going with this, what he’s planning. He tells me to do thesame for my whole foot, arching it back and then relaxing. I follow the letter,but not the spirit of the command, and I shouldn’t be surprised when henotices.
“Joaquin, stop expecting something.Just listen to my voice. Feel your body. Those are the only things that exist,”he says without reproach. Then, more gently still, “Trust me.”
I let my body go a little looser.Points of tension I hadn’t been aware I had been holding melt away. Ezraresumes his instruction, telling me to squeeze and to relax the bottom half ofmy legs. This time it works. Slowly, bit by bit, he travels up my body; mythighs, my stomach, my torso. I imagine a murky lake slowly being cleaned, thegrey sediment dissolving and disappearing, leaving crystalline water behind. Myhands, my arms, my shoulders. Everything is left clean, pure, calm.
Finally, Ezra reaches my head. Ifrown tight and then let the expression relax, and it’s like the last vestigesof worry dissipate.
I’m floating in a clear lake. Ican hear my breathing, a soft lapping of waves. Feel my body, part of thewatery bed around me. Feel the quiet and stillness of my thoughts.
I don’t know how long I staythere, but when I come back to, I realize I closed my eyes without consciousthought. I blink them open, a little disoriented, but not unpleasantly so, likewaking from an unplanned but restful nap. I realize belatedly that Ezra musthave turned off the lamp because it’s even dimmer than before, but as I turn myhead I see he’s still sitting on the chair, looking at me. I don’t feelintimidated or worried. Ezra will know what to do.
He watches my face for a momentbefore slowly moving from the chair to sit at the edge of the bed, a few inchesfrom me. His eyes are intense but soft. The hazardous electricity of before hassettled, turned into nothing more than a gentle humming.
He lifts the hand closest to meup to my face. I don’t question it, don’t move. When he reaches me, all he doesis rub his thumb against the vulnerable skin beneath my eye. I close my eyesand lean into it slightly until he’s cupping my face.
There is no space for worry here.
“You relaxed?” The question makesme remember what I had been expecting, what had happened last time, and some ofthe tension returns to my body, but it is sweet and ripe. I open my eyes. “Doyou need more?”
“Yeah,” I say, and it’s barelymore than a breath.
Ezra looks at me for a momentbefore trailing his hand down my face. He pauses at my lips, a little too fulland large for my face, tracing my bottom lip. I can’t help flicking my tongueout, tasting his skin for the first time. His breath hitches and I want more,straining my head up slightly and taking the digit into my mouth, sucking. Therest of his fingers dig sharply into my face and something about it, aboutmaking Ezra slip up his control, makes me moan.
Ezra pulls his thumb out of mymouth and I let my head fall back, breathing a little harshly even though I’vedone nothing at all. His hand trails lower, spreading the moisture on his thumbagainst my pulse point, and my blood gives another jolt. I arch my neck,exposing more skin. Ezra makes another little noise but doesn’t linger.
He shifts down the bed slightly,and both his hands are suddenly at the button of my jeans. I tense so as not tomove, my hands on the side of my body clenching. Somehow, I know to stay still.There’s a slight pressure against my trapped dick and then a slight relief asthe button is undone, the zipper lowered.
“Hips,” he says, and I lift them.He drags my jeans down to my thighs so that they are held closed. This time hedoesn’t pause, and then it’s Ezra’s hand pressing against the semi in my tightblack boxers. I bite my lip to keep the noise in.
“Don’t. Let me hear you,” hesays. I open my mouth, letting the air out. “Good,” he says, and the nextbreath carries a sound.
He starts rubbing slowly. My hipstwitch. I’m disproportionately turned on, far from the edge physically butmentally, practically there. I’m so caught up in this that I can’t think ofanything but Ezra’s long, dexterous fingers on me. I want to lift myself up onmy elbows to look, but I know I can’t.
Ezra keeps moving his hand, longmovements along the length of my dick until it’s fully hard and leaking. I haveto concentrate on not pushing up. I want him to touch me, really touch me.
