NaNoWriMo – Chapter 3

Mark looked at his phone one more time, just to see if his message had been read. He opened up stream of messages and saw his lone message “wanna breed this hole.” Down at the bottom, above the keyboard, showed the notification that it had been read, yet there was no response. His face flushed red hot as he closed it and chose to open one of the others, reading the same message. Each one showed the same thing. The only one who had responded had declined his offer.

He locked his phone and threw it across the bed.

Fuck these guys, he said, exhaling all the breath out of his nose.

It was just going to be a dull night, once again. All he wanted to do was get fucked. Isn’t that what the app is for, he kept telling himself. Recycling it through his mind until his rage grew in his chest. What was even the point?

He stood up, undressed and crossed the room to his computer. He had just resigned to the fact that he would have to help himself out. No one else was even going to bother. He opened the browser and type in a single w and the bar was filled with his usual go-to, amateur site. There he found messages. His heart gave a leap. As he scanned them, each one telling him how hot his videos were, but all of them were either in another state or a separate country altogether.

He opened up a video he had uploaded a couple weeks ago. He watched himself laying on his bed with his near naked body, lay on all fours, for the stranger to enter the room. His dick stirred to life. There was nothing he loved more than watching himself get used by an anonymous stranger.

A memory sparked at the back of his mind, the video from a week ago. He hadn’t even had the chance to watch it, what with his boyfriend coming home almost immediately after. That had been a close call. He didn’t know what Sergio would have done if he had come in at that exact moment.

The video was hidden deep in a Russian doll of files. At the very bottom he opened up the video and leaned back in the computer chair with a creak.

He watched himself in the usual pose, the orange glow of the street light filling his room more than the light on his nightstand. He got harder.

Somewhere in the distance the microphone picked up the soft click and shut of the door. Just like he got aroused at the anticipation of the stranger then he did again. Then there would footsteps and the slim frame came into view, the frame ending at shoulder length. The man removed only his jacket, and laid a hand onto his plump left cheek. He caressed it, while reaching out to grip the waist band of his jock.

Mark mirrored his moves of the video and wrapped his long fingers around his cock.

The man on the glowing computer screen, got to his knees and pressed his shadowed face in between Mark’s butt cheeks. The silhouette of the man ever-so-slightly rimmed him. Mark went into euphoric recall. He remembered what his wet tongue had felt like as he gently probed in and out of his hole.

The man reached under and up and began to slowly jerk him off.

Video Mark stretched his arms above his bowed head. He heard himself moan on the video and he could feel himself getting closer.

The stranger continued on in the same manner, until Mark’s voice and moans grew in frequency and pitch. He watched his back arching as he pushed himself against the stranger’s face.

Damn I was loving it, Mark thought as his hand picked up speed.

Just as he rose about to cum in person so did his video self. The only difference was he was beginning to glow yellow. His hand slowly came to stop as he watched himself turn into a light bulb, that then froze in time. The light that had shone from his skin leapt into the air forming a billowing cloud above him.

Mark watched with wide eyes as the stranger stood and scooped a handful of the gold into his hand and into his mouth.

Mark’s heart hammered in his rib cage.

The man went to take another swipe at the air, but stopped. He shook his head and returned to what he had been doing before. He resumed his actions and the light was pulled back into Mark’s body like someone releasing a tensed rubberband.

The room went dark and the camera went in and out of focus multiple times before the man finished Mark off, donned his coat, and left without saying a word.

The video stopped.

Mark stared at the still, final image of himself turning off the camera, not knowing what had at all just happened.

His mind whirred to life as he struggled to make sense of it. Who had that man been. His hand went to the mouse and he slid the single dot along the player bar. The stills of the video flashed by in jerky awkward shapes. He stopped right At the moment when the light had left his body. For a split second he saw the man’s profile, but nothing that jogged his memory.

Mark spun around in the chair and grabbed his phone from the edge of the bed. He opened up the hook-up app and began rooting through the messages. The video was two weeks old. He ran through the rolodex of images, and could only think of three men that it could have been.

This was the only time he wished he hadn’t messaged multiple people in one go.

He returned to the computer and watched it one more time, trying to make heads or tails of it as he watched it. He slowed it down, examined every scene pixel by pixel. But nothing he could think of made sense.

Opening a new browser, he typed in the scene that had unfolded and searched for any results but there was nothing. At least nothing that made sense.

Finally he returned to the amateur porn site and created a new file. All he could think of was that there was someone, anyone that could explain what had happened to him.

He titled his newest clip, “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?” In the short description he outlined the details to best of his abilities. Once he was satisfied with his explanation he sent it out into the electronic ether. There it would get the attention and answer he long craved.

Mark stood and looked around his room. Whatever had happened he found himself no longer trusting that he was by himself. He could sense that something had been taken from him, but what he wasn’t sure. The anger and frustration pulsed through him as he looked for some way to feel safe. For a brief moment he thought about contacting the police, but he waved it away almost immediately. What were they going to do? He couldn’t even tell them who it had been.

The only thought he could do was bunker himself down. He locked the deadbolt and the slid the chian, checked all of his windows and grabbed a knife from the kitchen. Placing it on the bedside table he grabbed his found and wrapped himself up in his blanket. Once again, he returned to the trail of messages and he went through each and every one of them. One of the men there had to be the stranger.

He knew it was only a matter of time until the video was seen by the world. He would get his answer. It was just the waiting that cloaked him an overwhelming sense of dread.

Did they know I was filming? He thought to himself. And that single thought lit a fuse through his mind sending fearful question after another to his mind. He grabbed the knife at his bedside table and laid under the cloak of the blanket. There was no doubt in his mind he wasn’t going to sleep that night.

In the morning, as the sun was peeking between the high rises of the city, a key worked it’s way through the pins of the lock. The door thudded against the door.

“Mark,” said the voice of his boyfriend, “Open the door.”

Delirious from the lack of sleep Mark sat frozen in fear.

“Mark, open the chain now. I want to know what this video is about.”

Mark through the blanket off of him, set the knife on the beside table, and rushed to the door. His fingers fumbled awkwardly with the chain. He opened the door and hugged his boyfriend, happy he was finally not alone. Sergio, stood rigid for a brief moment before he pulled himself from his embrace and stomped into the apartment, dragging Mark with him.

“What the fuck is this video?”

Mark shook his head.

“Tarryn sent a video to me a guy fucking you.”

“Did you see what else happened?” his voice broke.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Sergio said, “You’ve been cheating on me. I saw the rest of your fucking videos.”

“But did you see what he did!”

“I don’t give a fuck. You’re a slut and I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

Sergio ran through the apartment in flurry, grabbing whatever was around and shoving it into the gym bag he had retrieved from the bedroom closet.

Mark ran to the computer and pulled up the website. Down below the video it showed a total of a million views, over night. The comments below ranged from shock and utter disbelief. Some even claimed that he had better special effects than most big budget movies.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Sergio said from the bathroom. Rattling objects along the glass shelves.

“How did Tarryn find it?” Mark called.

“Check the fucking news.”

Mark instinctively opened another browser and there, for the whole world to see, was a story about his video begging for questions.

Word Count: 5,896/50,000

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NaNoWriMo – Chapter 2

“You really don’t have to do this,” Aiden said, as he tried to stand and put his hands on Jon’s shoulders, and held him at bay.

Jon merely smirked and returned the favor.

Just as he thought, it was only a few seconds before Aiden was done. Jon straightened his back and smiled.

Aiden’s cheeks, already flushed, went redder.

“I’m sorry,” Aiden said.

He grabbed his shirt and put it on as Jon stood before him, still nude.

“Why are you apologizing,” Jon said, “That, to me is the highest compliment to my skill and ability.”

Aiden chuckled. “Sure, that’s what it means. Not at all that I am a man-boy.”

Jon waved a hand and batted the harsh words out of the air.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Jon put on his boxer-brief underwear.

“Do you want something to eat?”

Aiden paused, his pants at his knees.

“I was thinking about going home. I don’t need anything.”

“Oh,” jon said, “Okay. Well, you’re also welcome to hang here for a little bit. Maybe watch some tv. Wait and see if my audience shows up for the show. If he doesn’t then we cancel.”

Aiden smiled and buttoned his pants.

“Tempting,” he said, “But I think I’m going to split.”

Aiden slid as quick as he could into his shoes. He always hated the awkward banter after the whole thing. It was worse for him because he never knew whether he should stay or go. That’s why he had made his mind up a long time ago, it’s better to just leave. He took what he needed and their transaction was complete. There was no sense in trying to make something out of nothing, and even if it turned into more how would that even work? He was cursed, since birth, before he was even conceived. His family line was blighted since Lucipher’s rebellion.

As Jon, bustled around his tiny kitchen, Aiden was half out the door.

“Later,” he said, flashing a furtive smile.

He shut the door and was halfway down the hall before Jon could reply.

He pulled out his phone and texted his brother Gavin Knuth.

“Where you at ho?” His fingers tapped out. Right as he was about to slip it back into his pocket the alert chime of a single bell sounded.

“Take a wild fuckin guess,” gavin had sent back.

Aiden smiled at the screen and slid the phone back into his pocket and headed down the stairs to the first floor, where he hailed a cab.

Sitting in the back he closed his eyes and breathed. He could feel Jon’s human essence, or what some would say soul, pulsing through his cold veins, sending tiny sparks of electricity through his body. He could feel himself stirring back to life and he loved it. It was irritating and exhilarating all at once. It felt like he wanted to run a mile in under a minute, or punch through a brick wall, but that was just the initial high. He had learned to not act on the instinct to overindulge in unnecessary activity. He’d use it up and have to find another to fill the hunger. While that was fine when he was in his early twenties, pushing thirty-three he wasn’t ready for the endless hunt. Or the fact that while he was some form of the undead, he was dead to most in the gay community.

The yellow cab dropped him off adjacent to the alleyway where Rogue was located. His usual haunt. It was the only place in New York that was made for him and his ilk, the damned.

As he walked inside he found it almost empty, apart from the bar-tender Lag, a sixty-year old ghoul, with long beard and dark skin. He busied himself counting the cash in the til, while behind him, moping over a half-empty pint of lager was Gavin. His unruly mop of hair hung wild around his face, illuminated by his phone.

Aiden slid onto the barstool next to his brother.

“I take it things aren’t going well?” Aiden said.

“Of course not,” Gavin said. He dropped his phone and took a swig of his.

Lag turned and regarded Aiden, who pointed at the pint and held up two fingers. Without a word the bartender brought two glasses filled to the top.

“You know, I’m really tired of this modern age woman who is okay with meeting up with dudes, but then ghosts him.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Fuck, no,”  Gavin slapped a hand onto the bar. “I want to find fucking love.”

“That’s not something awarded to us, Gav.”

“I don’t give a shit. I’m tired of this ‘cursed’ bull shit we’re peddled every day. I don’t believe my life is stuck to this endless parade of women. I want a wife. I want kids. I am so lonely.”

“You get that’s never going to be our life, right?”

“Maybe not for you.”

“Do you really want to further this along? You’d really want to make another incubus or a succubus?”

“We could adopt.”

Aiden rolled his eyes.

“I thought Dya was the girl. We were hitting it off and then,” Gavin cut his hand through the air, “She just disappeared. It’s the same fucking story. Either they come in hot and heavy and freak me out or they get scared and fade into digital obscurity.”

“I’m sorry,” Aiden said. He put an arm around his brother’s shoulder, and rested his head.

“I know what I am, what we get out of life but, I want more. We’re deserving of love, Aid.”

“Ya, but at what cost.”

“Here we go with the fucking common sense.”

“I don’t want to ruin your dream, I think we deserve better and we will, but you have to take into account we don’t get to have love. Never. A long term relationship only ends with the one you love turning into a hollow, soulless shell.”

“That’s only if you fuck.”

“Could you have that kind of relationship?”

Gavin shrugged.

“I get sex isn’t everything, but for us it kind of is. If we want to live at least.”

“Sometimes I think Erik had the right idea.” Gavin put a finger gun to his head and pulled the invisible trigger.

“Don’t say that. Please. You know how much his death almost killed mom.”

“Dad, almost killed mom.”

Aiden frowned and pulled his arm away from his brother.

“Sorry,” Gavin said. “I’m just in a mood. What’d you do tonight?”

Aiden shrugged and shook his head.

“Nothing.”

The two sat in silence.

Aiden wasn’t ready to tell his brother about his escapades. It nearly killed him when he found out that his little brother was a big ‘ol ‘mo in the first place.

The bar door slammed open and in strolled in Keisha, dressed head to toe in white.

“Whats going on, bitches,” she said, making a direct line to Aiden.

She wrapped him in a warm hug and took the spot next to him at the bar. Gesturing to Lag for drink of her own.

“How’re you this fine evening?” Aiden said, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

“Tonight was the tits,” she said, “Trish, Angelica, and I all went out to High Bar for a few favors and a dance. It was incredible. The lads were gorgeous and honey I was beating them off. Well, not literally.”

“What mortal can avoid your mystique.”

“No one, my love.” She raised her eyebrows and winked.

The girl looked around Aiden at Gavin.

“Whats wrong with him? Lovesick moping again?”

Aiden nodded.

“Oh, piss off, Gav. Go do something else. Do someone else. You’re tears are wasted. Have some fucking fun, you’re fucking immortal for Christ sake. I mean, oops,” Keisha put a hand over her mouth and smiled mischeviously.

Then the woman pulled up her small bag, dangling on a thin strap, and plopped it down onto the bar with a thud, whereupon she dug through it to find a cigarette. She pulled it out, lit it, got one drag before Lag turned around, grabbed it from her lips and tossed in the trash.

“You’re no fun.”

“I don’t want to lose my license,” Lag said, returning to his business, which had evolved into the scores in the sports section of the times.

“You’re not going to fucking believe who I ran into tonight?” Keisha said.

Aiden raised his eyebrows.

“A mob of fucking angels.”

“No way,” Aiden gasped. “Where?”

“At High Bar!”

“What were they doing there?”

              “Fuck if I know. They showed up and me and the lasses got the fuck out of there. I don’t want to be around those schmarmy douchebags. Grinning with their perfect fucking teeth. Butter wouldn’t melt.”

               Gavin leaned forward to peer around his brother, brushing his hair behind his ear.

              “I heard tales that the angels are gearing up.”

              Both Aiden and Keisha stared back perplexed.

              “For the rapture? Judgment day.”

              Keisha groaned.

              “Please, they’ve been saying that one  since this ridiculous country was founded. Don’t tell me you’re buying into it.”

              Gavin shrugged and sat back to return to mope.

              Aiden stared forward. He had heard from his grandfather once tell them that when the angels arrived to start the rapture it was their time to end. It was foreseen by some ancient angelic deity that the winner of the war of souls would be God, and he would finally bring down his retribution upon Lucipher for bringing about the rebellion. He could still hear his grandfather  groan and say “if he was so powerful in the first place why didn’t he just end him then and there. God is all about the show. The pomp and circumstance. He’s a fraud.”

              He was doubly damned, at least maybe being a sexual soul sucker he could be forgiven by penance or sacrifice. But nothing could ever wash away the sin of choice to choose his life as a gay man, or at least that was what he had been peddled in his youth. There was nothing worse than the shame faith and religion brought to those unlike them. Their message was one about conformity and obedience. The damned were those of freedom and mistakes. Yet they were damned.

              These worries were nothing to concern himself with. Like Keisha had said, it was rumored to happen every decade for as long as time had existed. It was just brought up every millennia to revamp God’s failing hold over human kind, and to bring about the fear in the damned.

              “Where’d you go, love?” Keisha put a hand on Aiden’s shoulder.

              He smiled and shook his head.

              “thinking about cock again?”

              “Jesus, Keisha,” gavin growled.

              “Oh, fuckin come down from your high horse, you dick. You’re a goddamn incubus.”

 

Words: 4,196/50,000

NaNoWriMo – Chapter 1

              Aiden sat on his bed, his back up against the bedroom wall, hunched over his two generations old smartphone. His emerald eyes scanned the grid of serious faces and torso shots as his thumb slowly pushed them up on the screen, hoping that he could find the one that could be his next. Usually he never shopped for a suitor and instead chose to lie in wait and have them come to him, but he was hungry and could wait any longer. It had been almost three weeks since his last hook-up.

              His finger stopped, halfway up the phone screen, and then stabbed at the miniscule thumbnail for a larger look.  The photo of the man filled the screen. He had mahogany eyes, thick eyebrows, unruly black hair, and a thick bear that hid the furtive smile on his thin lips. Aiden’s mouth watered.

              He jabbed his thumb at the chat icon, curled himself forward over the glowing screen and moved his fingers into position.

              What do I say? Aiden thought. His brows met over the bridge of his pointed nose, as his right eye tugged at his cheek.

              There were endless options, he knew. He could be playful and see where that took him, or he could do what he had done countless time before, with amazing results, and just be sexually aggressive. He flicked back to the photo again and stared into his face.

              Nothing came to mind. With the swipe of his thumb the photo was shadowed by the text of the man’s profile. Littered beneath the bold, white headings were movie and pop culture references, the usual snide remarks about the superficiality of the app, and the most damning of all statements at the bottom “no hook-ups.”

              Aiden rolled his eyes and sneered.

              “Bullshit,” he snorted.

              He loved the challenge of pushing against the notions of one’s perceived moral standards. It made the prize all the sweeter.

              The phone vibrated and a banner appeared across the top of the screen, a new message from “DTFBTTM.”

              Instinctively Aiden went to the new message and read it, “Wanna breed my hole?” The disgust Aiden felt echoed out of his mouth as a groan. He shook his head. There was nothing he found less appealing than desperation. And this boy was the picture of it. Coincidentally he was also one of Aiden’s formers. This “Mark” and he had met a few times before. Aiden knew that another trist would push this kid over an edge he wouldn’t recover from.

              “Back-up” Aiden said.

              With a few taps he returned to the bearded face of “Jon” and his profile to read it once more. In those few moments a new quote appeared, a string of vaguely familiar song lyrics. Possibly from the musical Hamilton and the song “Helpess;” if Aiden remembered correctly.

              “Oh, look at those eyes, the skies the limit,” Aiden typed out and sent his message.

              He spun around and laid down on the bed, and rested his legs against the wall, as he waited.

              As the moments ticked by he felt a sense of dread well in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it wouldn’t work, he thought. Or maybe he had gotten the song confused with another musical and botched his entry point all together. But his inner self reminded him of the “hungry hole” waiting on the back burner. Pressing his lips together he shook his head. That would have to be a last-last choice he told himself. An eager companion was one thing, but leaving them a hollow and empty shell of a man was not ever an option for him.

              The phone shook and his heart leapt from his chest. His fingers fumbling as he grabbed the phone from his stomach and read the reply from “jon.”

              “Boy, you got me helpless,” the blue bubble held.

              Aiden knew he was in.

              “Down for the count and I’m drowining in it,” he texted back.

              The next came before he could send another.

              “Hamilton fan?” Jon wrote.

              Thank, Luce, I was right.

              “Isn’t it obvious? I sometimes hold sould out shows in my living room with exclusive, one show only, choreohgraphy.”

              “LOL” jon sent back, “Mine are usually poorly attended. Just have the one patron, and he just sticks around cause if he didn’t he might not get fed.”

              “Dog or cat”

              “Cat, his name is Senor Gatito.”

              “Any pics?” Aiden asked, confident of the answer. Sure enough a photo of a long haired feline with an unenthused expression appeared before him.

              “That was taken during encores. He wasn’t too happy.”

              Aiden’s brows lifted at the proper use of the word ‘too.’

              Another blue balloon appeared, “He was hoping for ‘Memories.’” There was a pause and a separate message appeared, “He was high on the nip.”

              Aiden waited, his mind trying to come up with a snappy response before he was beaten to the punch.

              “Any pics?” Jon sent. “The torso is nice but hopefully there’s more.” The next blue bubble said, “Unless you’re the headless horseman.”

              “No, they’re usually asexual,” Aiden responded, mentally patting himself on the back.

              “LOL.”

              Aiden sent his most mediocre face picture, with a smirk on his face and his green eyes reading ‘obviously.’

              It only took a second for a reply to appear, “Very handsome.”

              “Right back at ya,” Aiden wrote back with more confidence than he felt.

Then the conversation lulled. Aiden opened and closed the chat screen hoping that there was a just a lag, but nothing. He was beginning to worry that this might not happen.

“What’re you doing?” Jon wrote.

Aiden’s heart went into overdrive, that echoed reverberated through his limbs.

              “Chillin at home.” He replied, trying to come off aloof. “You?”

              “Preparing for the late night show, that is, if Senor shows.”

              Aiden smiled at the screen.

              This guy can commit.

              “Want to make it an ensemble piece?” Aiden responded without thinking.

              “Fuck,” he whispered, as he read and re-read his message.

              Minutes dragged by  before Jon finally replied, “As long as you don’t upstage me,” which was immediately followed with a screenshot of a map, and a red push pin showing his location.

              Aiden dropped his phone onto the bed and leapt from the bed and bounded into the bathroom where he hurriedly showered, brushed his pearly teeth, and doused himself in Burberry Brit cologne. He dressed in his most slimming and showcasing ensemble, for once foregoing the notion of underwear for a quick and easy reveal. Giving himself a look over in his cracked full length mirror, he dashed out the front door and down to the ground floor.

              “I’m on my way,” he texted back.

              On the street he hailed a yellow cab and once inside set off.

              Anticipation, adrenaline, and hunger flooded every inch of his body, his heart drummed against his rib cage, and his nose ran. Aiden brushed it away from the back of his cold index finger and sniffed the rest back up into his sinuses.

              The cab pulled in front of the brownstone builder and Aiden handed the man the cash, without even counting, and got out.

              Aiden opened up the app once more and found that Jon had messaged during the quick cab ride to add, “Third floor, #6.”

              The front door to the complex was locked, but adjacent to the door was a panel of names and numbers. Illuminated next to number six read the name “Jon Goshen.” Aiden buzzed the unit number and deep voice answered back, “Come on up.”

              The complex door clicked open and Aiden entered.

              The rhythm of his heart pounded harder up into his ears. His mouth went dry and his stomach started to turn. In only a few moments he would be full.

              Jon answered the door before Aiden could knock.

              “Hello,” he said with a false bravado that made Aiden chuckle and blush.

              “Evening,” Aiden said, tipping his head foreward to his host. “Did you audience show?”

              Aiden stepped inside the apartment.

              “I think he had other arrangements.”

              Aiden met Jon’s gaze and smiled. He tried to up the charm radiating from his chest, but when he looked into Jon’s eyes his heart skipped a beat.

              “Do you want something to drink?” Jon said. He turned and headed for the small kitchen.

              “Sure, whatever you got.”

              “Whiskey neat, okay?”

              “Yeah.”

              Aiden spun on his heel to examine the space. A shag rug of gray and a darker gray took up the center of the room. Movie posters of every decade of cinema decorated the walls, and underneath the window to the fire escape, stretched a long, stout bookcase filled with a mixture of books, movies, and action figures. Most of the toys primarily villains, Aiden noted.

              Aiden turned around to find Jon carrying two tumblrs filled with the amber liquid.

              The host walked past his guest and took a seat, with a squeak of the springs, on the plum suede sofa. Jon set the glasses down on the coffee table, one in front of the empty spot next to him on the couch. Aiden took the hint and sat.

              “So, do you do any performances other than Hamilton?” Jon asked.

              The bearded man sipped his drink.

              “Sometimes I swing for the cast of Wicked or Bare. My favorites are the jazzy numbers.”

              Jon flashed a bright smile of perfect teeth.

              Aiden’s eyes locked gazes with him. It was then that he pushed the energy from his chest out to fill the room to it’s brim, that way there was no escape. He had to hurry, he could feel himself getting weak.

              Seizing his opportunity Aiden moved forward and locked his lips against Jon’s. A cool chill ran over his body as he opened his mouth and slithered his tongue into Jon’s warm mouth.

              Jon lifted his hand and cupped Aiden’s cheek, and matched his move with an arm around his back.

              There kisses rose in force and entensity as the found and fell into the other’s rhythm.

              Aiden, not breaking their bond, moved his knee onto the couch and laid Jon onto his back, he head rested on the arm of the sofa. Pressing just enough of his weight against his partners body to feel the jump of excitement. Aiden knew there was no turning back. The power of his lips was working. He could feel Jon’s energy and temperature rise. Their dance rose in measure.

              Jon tried to parry Aiden back, but it was then that he found his partner removing his shirt to reveal the thick, soft black hair on his chest and small belly.

              Aiden straightened his back and removed his own, taking note of Jon’s intense gaze on him.

              Next were the pants.

              “Wow,” Jon whispered, as he found his partner already bare.

              Aiden rushed to remove the final garment.

              The two wrapped their libs around the other, locking the kiss.

              Aiden rushed with relief, he knew that there was enough for a large piece in the end.  This could hold him over for month. The prospect accelerated the excitement.

              Aiden broke their lip-lock and kissed a path down Jon’s chest to one his soft brown nipples. His tongue slid out and over it, sliding a thin coat of saliva in a counter-clockwise circles. He jumped to the other for only a moment, and then continued kissing him down his stomach.

              Jon gave a breathy laugh and jerked upward as if shocked.

              Aiden continued undeterred to Jon’s swarm cock, pressing against Aiden’s smooth chest. The head of which bumped into Aiden’s chin as he looked up into Jon’s eyes. He flashed a half grin before looking down and taking him into his mouth.

              Jon writhed beneath him. His long fingers and sweaty palm fell onto the back of Aiden’s head, guiding him up and down.

Jon’s tempo rose and Aiden knew the moment was close. He glanced up at his face with an expression of excited calm, his eyes closed.

Aiden moved faster and faster and as he did the body before him began to emit a faint glow that rose. The gold light seemed to darken the room around them, submerging the pair into a spotlight.

Jon took charge for a brief moment and said, “I’m going to come.”

In a flash of light Jon filled Aiden’s warm mouth with himself and time froze. The golden glow that had risen from the depths of Jon exploded from him and gathered in a haze around him.

Aiden swallowed, straightened his back and then stood above Jon’s still form in mid coitus. On his handsome face a look of pure joy. Aiden ran a hand on his bearded cheek and then bent to plant a single kiss.

Aiden stood straight and gathered a small collection of the golden light and balled it into a bite size snack. He tossed it back and swallowed. A warmth spread from his chest like a summer breeze down his limbs to the tips of his fingers and toes. He gauged the remains of the golden haze and, determining that there was more than enough there, he made one more morsel and ate.

The incubus sighed in relief and closed his eyes, enjoying the pieces of Jon’s soul.

Aiden returned to the apex of Jon’s legs. Once again he wrapped his mouth around his still stiff dick and continued where he had left off. As his head slid up and down time resumed and what light was left was sucked back into Jon’s body as if it had never been removed, returning the room to a darker dim than it had been before.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jon said with a laugh, pushing Aiden away from him.

Like every man the incubus had met, he was sensitive after climax. Aiden smiled a playful, wicked smile and sat back, as he surveyed the beautiful man that laid before him; his head against the arm rest, his arms limp at his side. It was bitter sweet because he knew the end was at hand. Aiden smiled and started to gather his clothes.

Jon sat upright and grabbed Aiden’s hand.

“What’re you doing?”

Aiden furrowed his brow. “I’m leaving?”

Jon smiles and shakes his head.

“That’s not how this works,” he says, as he rises and spins Aiden around and nudges him onto the couch.

Wordcount: 2,390/50,000

Looking Out/In

I can’t stop myself. My new normal has become reading into situations, scenarios, and responses like they’re a New York Times bestseller and the secret to life’s happiness is between those lines. I truly don’t want to, but it is default. So, fuck me.

Today I took three separate events and combined them into one that sent me into a depression spiral I fought hard against. I only pulled out of this nosedive when I finally spoke to my husband about it and got something I didn’t even know I needed. For once he told me I was right. Granted it was because we have somehow switched roles and he is the one not reading into things and I am, and he finds it irritating. To that end, he told me I was correct when I had previously told him the same, it is annoying. So, there’s that.

I even try to read into what is me “reading into” things actually means. There is no end to it! What I have concluded is that it’s me trying to gain some sort of sanity in the chaos (granted a self-perceived chaos) and taking the power into my own hands. However, that is not at all what it does. Doing it actually makes me crazy-er. Almost like I’m trying to force something that isn’t there because of a perceived threat. To that I say, that is insane.

My goal going forward is to try and be calm about all of this. It is what it is. There is no deeper meaning. There is no smoke from a fire. It just exists in this neutral land. A world between worlds.

I think a large part of it is public perception. I’m looking through a lens of social “norms” to what all of this means. It’s silly. Usually I don’t give a fuck what others think and feel. Their opinions don’t dictate my life. Yet, here I am backtracking on my own character. For what? A fear of loss?

What seems to exacerbate my overthinking is taking my “Ethics of Living and Dying” class at the local community college. It’s definitely forcing my own introspection. I guess that means it’s a good one, seeing as how it compels me to look and learn. The only byproduct from all of it, is my self-inflicted pain.

Speaking of that class, I had an essay to write and I found myself at a complete stand-still because I was OVERTHINKING the entire thing. I was attempting to do it in a collegiate prose which went against the whole point of the assignment. What I have gathered is that he wanted us to look at our own mortality when faced with a terminal illness. What does it mean to have it, the effects on one’s life, and how would we respond. I could be wrong, but the way in which the assignment was to be written appeared to press that own self-analysis.

The ultimate conclusion is I just need to chill the fuck out. The “answer” I’m seeking, for whatever reason, will not be found in me analyzing every minute detail. It will come in living through the experience. That is life.

UPDATE:

In the course of writing this I got a call from my sponsee who shed some light onto my fears that I didn’t even take into consideration.

Basically I was laying all of this out to him over the phone and he said it was brought about by my husband’s disclosures of past events. The light clicked on in my head and I was so relieved. He’s right. It’s me stressing about all of it and coupled with the events of the day it just brings about a whole other set of problems. Goddamn his perceptiveness. I’m such a proud sponsor-papa.

 

Inebriated Confessions

The truth is something we all think we want but very rarely do we accept it or really even want it. Most of the time, people hear what they want and it turns into something else by way of preconceived notions or baggage.

This weekend I got something I’ve been longing to have for some time and that is: the truth. The real truth. For whatever reason, my husband felt fit to offer it to me. It could have been his own want to have no secrets but it could have been the liquid courage. Honestly it’s probably a combination of the two. Regardless the reasons, he poured it out and I accepted what he had to say.

The thing is what he told me I already knew in my gut. After all the bull shit and infidelity on my part there was no way any normal person would put up with my shit. And I don’t blame him. The only thing I felt was relief. Finally I had the knowledge that while my transgressions are terrible I am not alone.

In the morning, in mild sobriety, I told him (whether it needed to be said or not) that I forgave him. It wasn’t for him, because I don’t think he needs or wants it. I did it for myself, plain and simple. From that moment on I wanted to go forth with honesty and integrity. The only way to do that was to leave all the baggage in the past and move forward. I don’t want to hold resentments. (Which is my default, by the way.)

While, I don’t remember all he told me (unfortunate side effect of being thoroughly fucked up on vodka redbulls) I remember some and it was the stuff that my brain and gut had sensed forever. Now knowing, I have the peace I need to move past my worries and fears. It also gave me a glimpse into my husband. And it was nice.

It’s hard being vulnerable. The truth/honesty leaves one at the mercy of the listener. I again wonder what prompted it, or why he felt it was the time to do it then, but I am thankful for that moment. And I will be forever I think.

I just wish I had at least taken notes to remember it all. Some of it lost in the inebriated crevasses of my brain. Maybe I don’t need to be reminded. Most likely the latter.

However this whole situation plays out, at least it won’t be bogged down by lies and secrets.

It’s a Brave New World…

…At least that’s what I keep saying to myself, and have been since December when I asked for an open relationship.

My husband doesn’t recall our conversation, in January, when we agreed to close it. I can specifically remember the location and how I felt in the moment in which I snapped and agreed. I then changed all of my stuff on all the apps and went back to that mindset. As it turns out, he was under the assumption we were still open which is when he started talking to this other dude.

We have talked a lot since our initial conversation on Saturday. What I have since learned, was that the reason he spoke to his mother about the state of our relationship and telling her about Derek (his boyfriend) was because he thought it was over between us. He had planned on ending things with me that night because he thought I was waiting for him to pull the trigger. However, when we talked on the car ride home from my parents, after St. Patrick’s Day dinner, his mind changed. What I told him was I wasn’t done. And I’m not. Like I mentioned in my previous post, regarding my midlife crisis, I was on the fence of what to do. I wanted to be single but I also wanted to stay in my relationship because at my core that is what I want. But, I also want to be single. Evenly distributed. (I’m kind of fucked up.)

After our conversation last night I have found further peace with this arrangement, which is basically a polyamorous relationship. I have my boyfriend (I hesitate to use that word for the baggage it brings) and he will have his. At least, for the time being. (It should be noted all four of us have deleted grindr and scruff, further upping the ante.)

A friend of mine, back when we were wrestling with it just being an “open relationship,” told me that we both have to be in agreement, and if one of us isn’t in it, the situation has to end. He is/was right. Which is why I have informed the husband that at the moment he is uncomfortable (and the husband said “I agree”) I will not hesitate to pull the chord on this arrangement. Now, whether he still feels that way in a few weeks, months or years (however long this fucking lasts) may be something else entirely. I just can’t be too concerned with thinking that far ahead. (I can hear the voice of my besty, Shelby, and her subsequent eye-roll, informing me how I’m being stupid.)

I have made peace with the notion that if he ends up ‘head over heels’ with this dude and would rather be with him I will be okay. I mean, of course I will. It will hurt like a mother-fucker, but I will remind myself I set this situation into motion. As he likes to remind me, I chose this. I asked for it when I wanted the open relationship and I chose it (yet again) when we talked the day after the car ride home. He set forth 3 options and I chose the ‘keep things the way they are and stay together but see these side pieces’ plan for only 5.99 a month.

I have no illusions to the contrary that this is absolutely playing with fire. Emotions WILL run high. And someone will be hurt in the end. The gamble is, who is going to be hurt. In the effort of full disclosure I have let my guy, Josh, know everything. I have not hid the fact of what is transpiring. I even want to send him the contact info of my previous ex for further reference to the agony that comes with dating me. I am trouble, plain and simple.

One of the changes I am making, to keep myself sane in this insanity, is to not read into the actions he takes and any assumed underlying message in what my husband says to me. My previous post was me reading into what he said way more than I should have. My therapist said that if we do this there has to be trust and I am just going to trust that he will be honest with me. What he says is what he says. If it turns out that there wasn’t any honesty in his words I imagine I will find out by our relationship ending.

I just find it odd that my husband, who has such anxiety about the future and how things will play out, is okay with this. For once he’s living in the moment and that is some major change. We’re both changing evidently.

The one thought I came to today was that we had previously known of similar situations with other couples in the past and we poo-pooed them and judged. I think we were just belittling them in an effort to tamp down our own desire for something similar. I probably shouldn’t be thinking that because it’s reading into things I shouldn’t. (It’s going to be a hard habit to break.) I just can’t help but look at it the same way I did when I was denying my sexuality. I vehemently hated gay people because I thought if I hated it enough outwardly it would kill that part of myself inside. Well, we see how that worked out.

I probably shouldn’t be airing my dirty laundry, but I have only one story to tell honestly and speak on with certainty and that is my own.

Stay tuned for further episodes of “Gays of Our Lives.”

Acceptance and Other Tales

Self-acceptance is something I was mildly blessed with early on. I say it that way because there is still much of myself I dislike or haven’t come around to realizing is just who I am. Yet even with that, I still have come a long way to have confidence. I think that is why I have to remind myself that not everyone has gone through the same or probably ever will.

When I was younger I fought the idea of being gay tooth and nail. I was raised in a deeply religious home, went to Christian school and being gay was never an option open to me. The idea of even telling anyone I had those thoughts was a flat out no. I grappled with my sexuality. I prayed, in tears, that God would take away those feelings. I didn’t want to be a sinner or disowned from my family. I wanted to have the “right” life with a wife and kids. Yet, there was no denying that I was not attracted to girls. The idea of being with them ended when it came to sex. I love women and could have a deeply emotional relationship but that was where it would end. I wouldn’t be in for the deepest part of commitment and whomever I would have been with would deserve better.

I very nearly lived a “straight” life. I had girlfriends, I did the song and dance that came with it and if it hadn’t been for one fateful night I probably would have driven down that hetero-road and dealt with the consequences that came with it.

The first person I ever told I was “bi” was my friend Becky on her birthday, which is only a week away. I had been so entranced with this boy named Sergio at her birthday that I felt compelled to tell her in the hopes maybe he too… As it turned out he was and he ended up being my first boyfriend and first heartbreak. I fell hard and fast for this kid. When he ended it with me, I was devastated. It took months before I was able to move on because I wasn’t ready. I am someone that is so desperate for love that I dive in without even thinking. I envision this life of bliss and when everything turns out to be the opposite I am hard-pressed to understand that the dream I had was only that. It’s probably a sickness.

The first few days after I told Becky I was so furious with myself. “Why did I do that,” I kept thinking. It wasn’t true. I wasn’t gay! But I was still in denial. It wasn’t until I met with that boy, for our first “date,” that something in me turned and I never wanted to go back to pretending. Being with him came easy. Sergio, or “the s” as I called him to hide his gender and identity, was my first kiss. Real kiss. He was my first boyfriend. And my first infatuation.

I thank him for making me who I am. I learned so much from the short experience. For one, don’t get involved with someone young because they (unlike my freak self) haven’t made peace with their sexual preference. After Sergio I only went for older guys because I couldn’t deal with the heartbreak I had felt when he went running. I know now that I came on too strong and he just wasn’t ready. As a result, I learned to shield myself from people. Well, at first. The moment I get a compliment or am shown just the slightest amount of attention all walls come tumbling down. I am just that desperate for love and attention.

I’m almost certain I’ve shared this story on here (or other blogs) countless times. I probably even wrote it in one of my columns for the Renegade Rip. I almost never told Becky my truth. I went to her bowling party and played my role as a straight dude well, and at the end of the night went to leave. However when I got to my car the battery was dead. I called my parents to help me out and while we waited for AAA I went back inside and whispered to her the words I never thought I would say. It’s strange to look at tiny moments as mundane as a dead car battery altering the entire course of one’s life, but it did for me.

My hope is that others can find the same peace I found when I finally just accepted me for me. My natural follow-up is that it is a hard journey, but in all honesty it wasn’t for me. I have lead the most charmed life. The only real moment that was rough was my mother’s acceptance. She was very much not on-board at the start, but since then she is someone else entirely. Sure there is bigotry, but I rather be at peace with myself than fighting a battle I would never win. Denying your truth is a tortured life, full of secrets and lies that only grow as time goes on.

P.S. May I suggest what spurred this blog post, it’s a song by Brandon Stansell “Hometown.”