Page 36 of Sicken of the Calm
I take a deep breath. For thefirst time, I take stock of my body. I let myself feel the aches and pains.Feel the pull of my forearms from my struggle against the bonds, the ache in myhips, my shoulders, the slight sting on my nipples, the wetness and almostunbearable hardness of my dick. The banked heat inside me, ready to flare up ata single touch from Ezra.
I take another deep breath andstart counting.
If I thought Ezra would go easyon me after my display of desperation, I would be completely mistaken. Themoment I start counting, his mouth is on the head of my dick, sucking, tongue againstthe slit. Instinctively I tense up, counting through my teeth, before breathingout around the numbers and relaxing my muscles. I let the sensations rollthrough me. Feel the moment his two fingers breech my entrance and the slowslide in, out, in again. The tight ring of his mouth as it slides down myalready wet cock. The hand rubbing my balls, pulling them slightly. I stutterbut keep counting. Ezra picks up the pace. His fingers thrust in and out withintent now, hitting my prostate. I feel the heat inside me building and have tofight the instinct, born of fear, to try and push the pleasure away.
God, I’m past the half-way mark,I realize, as I count into the thirties.
Ezra hums around my dick, fingerstilting and then grinding into my prostate. My voice wavers but I concentrateon the pleasure, on the waves of it washing all over my body.
I pass the forty mark.
I’m trembling in Ezra’s hands.His lips tighten around my dick, sucking, as his fingers pump in and out. Suddenly,it’s three fingers and he’s fucking me like he means it, slamming into me, anda jolt of fear goes through me as I feel my orgasm approach, but I don’t stop.I let the sensation run through me. I don’t even know if I’m counting as thepleasure takes hold. I’m a shaking, sweating mess, the pleasure is building, mymouth is moving, I think it’s still counting and then, in my fucked-out voice Ihear,
“Sixty.” For a moment, I don’tknow what’s happening, if it’s real. There are no more numbers after sixty.Ezra lifts his head from between my legs. His lips are red and swollen, chinshiny with spit, hair dishevelled and his eyes, they’re glowing. There’s aferal, proud smile on his face and I realize – I did it.
I fucking did it.
I feel like crying, there’s somuch relief.
“You can come, baby,” he says.His fingers are still pumping inside me as he swallows me down again. For amoment, a knee-jerk reaction, I fight against the pleasure, before I realize,it’s done.
I let go.
I feel every speck and spark ofpleasure inside me. I’m shaking wildly as the pleasure rises, rises, turningwhite and blanking. I think I’m going to come but the heat keeps rising, buildinginto a conflagration. Without the anchor of the counting, I’m hurtled intouncharted depths. I’m gasping for breath, I’m a point of light in endlessdarkness, and then Ezra’s fingers twist inside me and everything stops.
I come.
The point of light contracts intoits smallest possible form and then expands in a sudden burst, stripping awaythe dark, washing everything away as far as the eye can see. I feel like I’mbeing stripped bare, my skin and my muscle and my bones.
I lose thought, and self, andsensation. I’m just light.
I’m floating.
I can hear things, soft words andmurmurs. Can feel things, brushes against my skin, but it’s all far away. I’min a warm and safe place. I can close my eyes and just be.
I rise to the surface slowly.When I blink, the light is dim. There’s a lamp on, but it’s dark outside. Ishift my body and feel it ache back at me. My wrists are untied, my body cleanand under the covers. More importantly, there’s a warm body next to mine. Ezra,clad just in his boxers. Despite being slimmer than me, he’s playing the bigspoon, and his long limbs are wrapped around me, a shelter.
I need to see his face.
I shift around, and Ezraimmediately loosens his hold, but I don’t go far. I settle on the pillow inchesfrom him, tangling our legs together, sharing breath. He has the most beautifulsmile I have ever seen on his face, small and intimate, mine. He brushes hisfingers against my hair, my eyebrow, cups my cheek. I turn my face, closing myeyes and kissing his palm before settling on the pillow again.
We watch each other through slit,sleepy eyes. I feel something grow inside me, so warm and soft that I can’t beanything but grateful to have this moment. To have been given it.
“Did you, um,” I croak, having toclear my throat, “Did you…”
“No,” he says, catching on to myquestion, “But trust me, Joaquin. I got everything I wanted out of that,” hesays. I nod slowly. He’s said that before. He presses closer, kissing my cheekwith a slow press of lips, the edge of my mouth, between my eyes.
“God, you were perfect. Youwere…you’re so…” He kisses my lips, just a press. That glowing feeling insideme grows.
There are no more words needed.
I close my eyes as he tucks meagainst him, pressed against his chest. We’re wrapped around each other,feeling each other breathe, listening to the rhythm of our pulses. I don’t fallasleep, but I let myself drift in the glow of the lamp, in the glow of him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Dude, she’s right behind you.”
“Iknowshe’s – fuck, deadend.”
