Page 50 of Sicken of the Calm
I don’t know what to say. I cansee that the rejection he just described has marked him deeply. That it hasshaped, at least partly, how he sees himself and his worth. I can understandit; despite my closeness to my family, the idea of your parent’s opinion havinga stronghold on your life is not a foreign one. In this moment, however, Ican’t find the words to describe the immense worth I see in him. I wish I couldhold up a mirror to what I see inside him; that fire, that strength anddetermination. Wish I could make him appreciate his generosity, his kindness,the warmth he emits, so different from the frigidity of his parents. Tell himthat I’m sorry for what happened to him, that nobody deserves it but, in myeyes, especially not him.
I’ll take care of you, Iwant to say.I’ll take everything you are.
Instead, I pick up his hand andlift it to my lips, kissing the palm of his hand, the heel, the writing callousat the end of his middle finger. I cradle the hand against my cheek and look athim, willing him to see everything that I can’t put into words. He’s lookingback at me, a fathomless expression on his face.
“You’re with me, now,” is all Ican say, and hope it’s enough.
A small smile tilts on his faceas his thumb starts stroking my cheek. We sit there for a while, connected by skinand shared memories.
“Yeah,” he says eventually as ifhe’s been watching the seedling of my offer sprout in his head and it’s finallycome to fruition. “Yeah,” he says again, and the hand on my cheek slides to theback of my head. I follow its gentle push toward his lips and we kiss a littleawkwardly, leaning out of our chairs over our tangled legs.
“Bed,” Ezra murmurs, and I agreewholeheartedly.
I can sense, more than ever,Ezra’s need for control, and let him take it from me willingly. Let him kissme, and kiss me, even when I’m desperate for more. Let him eat up all thelittle sounds I’m making as I clutch at him. Let him undress me slowly, everyslip of fabric followed by a biting mouth. Watch him undress himself, revealingmiles of skin I’m not yet allowed to touch. And when he saysroll over,I do it readily.
“I want to try something new,” hewhispers in my ear, plastered against my back.
“Yes,” I say, because I’m safe inhis hands, as safe as I’ve promised he will be in mine.
The sun is setting outside, andin the twilight, endless blue of the sky, I feel him kiss the nape of my necksoftly. Feel the pads of his fingers brush along my shoulders, a whisper. Feelhis nails trail down my back gently as he kisses each bump of my spine. Hislips trail off in places, and I wonder if he’s teaching me about theconstellations that freckle across my back.
When he reaches the small of myback he lingers in the dip, pressing his breath to the downy skin, as if he’sbreathing me in. When he lifts his face, his hands move further down, kneadinginto the cheeks of my ass. I don’t know if I should melt or tremble. His handshook under me and he moves the flowing water of my body how he wants it; kneeson the bed, my back arching as I rest my forearms on the mattress, my headtucked against them.
When he parts my cheeks, I knowexactly what he’s going to do, but it doesn’t stop the surprise at that firstlick against my hole. It’s a long, languid drag of his tongue, getting me wet.I gasp into the sheets. His tongue keeps moving, licking around the rim, atease. The sensation is oddly electric. I don’t know if it’s psychological, orif there’s something about the combination of moisture and the softhardness ofthe tongue, but it’s turning me on a lot quicker than a finger would, even whenlubed up.
“Ezra,” I say as his tonguebreeches, pointed and intent. I’m too tight for it to go far though, and athumb joins in. It rubs around the rim before hooking in, its pad facing upwardso that it’s pulling slightly at the rim, tongue thrusting in underneath. Thedual sensation sends a jolt through me and I can feel my cock hanging heavilybetween my legs, leaking onto the sheets.
Ezra’s thumb thrusts in and out,pulling slightly, stretching me, before leaving so the hand can part my rightcheek again. His tongue turns relentless, thrusting into my hole, sucking atit, humming against the sensitive skin. I can’t help but thrust my hips back,trying to fuck myself further, and the hands parting my cheeks move to my hips,not halting the movement but digging their nails in. The added sensationelectrifies me further and I moan into my arms. His nails start scratching atme almost methodically, up and down my sides, my hips, my ass. At first, it’sjust sensation, but the more sensitized the skin becomes the more it hurts, andthe harder I get. Soon, the sensations of his tongue fucking into me and thenails scratching me are warring inside me until the heat rises enough to hitmelting point. The sensations seem to meld together, a ruthless combinationthat pulls me under.
I’m writhing, thrusting andgrinding back. Ezra has two fingers fucking into me along with his tongue, hisother hand still scratching. I’m panting and moaning, and when his nails moveunder to rake at my balls I jolt with a cry. Ezra hums against me, and I canpractically feel his pleased smile against my skin.
“Please. Please, please Ezra,please,” I’m saying, because I don’t know how long he’s been at this now, andI’m losing my mind. His hand wraps around my dick and I think,yes, butwith a single stroke he’s off again, and then his fingers and mouth are gonetoo.
“No,” I plead, and he shushes megently, stroking his dry hand down my back. The feel of it across myscratched-up skin sends a tremble through me.
“God, you’re so…” I hear Ezra saybefore I feel him kiss lightly across my no-doubt reddened skin. “I’m justgoing to get the lube,” he says. He tries to leave a hand on me for as long aspossible, returning as soon as the rustling in the bedside drawer ends. I don’tshift position, pinned in place by the pleasure and edge of pain that stillburns in my gut.
I close my eyes tight and moanwhen I feel three lubed fingers breech me. I gasp a little when they brush myprostrate, already amped up to eleven, but he avoids it mostly, stretching meout with care. This, too, he drags out, until I’m just fucking myself on them,pleading again, begging him for more.
When the fingers disappear Ialmost gasp in a mixture of relief and loss, but I barely have a moment tothink before the head of Ezra’s cock rubs against my entrance and then slipsin. He slides all the way slowly, carefully. Due to his length, it’s always astretch. He starts thrusting into me with long, even thrusts until – there.It’s that moment when there’s still pain but the pleasure starts to really rollin. The biting down on the grapefruit pulp, a rush of bitter, a rush of sweet.I moan and writhe, wanting more, wanting to stay just here forever.
Ezra starts thrusting into meharder now, his hands on my sore skin until I can feel him in every bit of skinand bone and muscle. He tilts his hips and starts hitting my prostate unerringly.My mouth is open against my forearm, sounds falling out like I’m dying. My hardcock is leaking, my balls drawn up, but I can’t come just from this.
“Please, please,” I say, andsuddenly Ezra is draped over my body. We become a furnace, a shelter, a singleorganism. His thrusts slow down, unhurried drags against my walls, my prostate,as his hand wraps around my cock and starts jerking me off.
I moan, blinking into the darkness.We’ve been at this so long that the sun has set before we could turn on thelamps, and we’re shrouded in the night. I can feel Ezra all around me, in mybody and my mind. Somehow, this position suddenly seems even more intimate thanwhen we fuck face-to-face. Here, like this, quiet and slow and deep, his lipskissing my shoulders, the nape of my neck. The sensations of it, of him, seemto exist in my very core and then expand, filling my awareness with his name, bitteninto my arm,Ezra, Ezra, Ezra.I can feel the orgasm rising, rising, risinguntil it hits me all at once.
I close my eyes and see lightsburst beneath my eyelids as if someone were lighting torches around us,stealing all the oxygen and leaving only heat behind.
I’m trembling as he comes too. Ican feel the warmth of him inside me. I wait just long enough for him to stillcompletely before collapsing on the bed. He follows, landing slightly to theside of me as he slips out.
“Jesus,” he says, and if I hadthe strength in me, I would agree.
I lay there for a while, drapedin him and the darkness. Our faces are turned toward each other and we breathetogether, interrupted by his sporadic kisses, as if he can’t bare not to taste.
“I’m gonna…” he says eventually.I nod, knowing the drill. This time, when he cleans me up, including attemptingto dry the wet patch on the sheets, he runs a wet roll of paper towels againstthe scratches on my back, before he pats the area dry. He’s turned on a lamp,and I can feel him inspect the area.
“I barely broke the skin, butthere’s a little area – do you have something to disinfect?” he says.
