When Everything Is Blue(70)

“Say it again,” Chris commands in a deep, throaty voice, towering above me like a god.

“Please.”

He plunges into me. The stretch burns worse than any raspberry from skateboarding, like being split wide open, but it feels good too, and maybe it feels better because of the pain. A kind of sacrifice.

“More,” I tell him, the same as he told me. More and more of him until there’s no clear divide between us, like the moment after sunset when the horizon blurs and you can’t tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins, when everything is blue.

Chris straightens his broad shoulders and yanks down on my thighs, tugging me to him, filling me up completely so there’s no room in my body or mind for anything but him. I moan his name, and he seems to know how much I need him because he thrusts deeper than before, deeper than I thought possible, tearing me apart and pouring himself into me. In his expression is tenderness, everything we’ve shared, all those little jokes, arguments, and competitions, all our memories… I’d go through worse pain to share this with him because he is my person.

He leans down and kisses my forehead, tells me he loves me. I close my eyes and Chris takes hold of my cock, piloting us both to new heights.

To understand and be understood and trust someone so completely that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I come with the slightest provocation, easily and eager to please. Chris smiles smugly, taking all the credit, then turns his attention to his own needs. He quickens his pace, pumping me like a surfboard, snapping his hips. His thighs slap against my ass as he works my body to get himself off. His face is flushed, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, the shark’s tooth like a talisman around his arched neck. His lips part, making a sweet little O face. His eyebrows knit together as he calls out my name. I want to see that expression again and again, be the one who rattles his bones and makes him cry out.

He strains against me and I feel him finish inside me, his breathless moaning at the final thrust, his hesitation as he withdraws. I feel everything, including the loss when he’s no longer inside me. Chris disposes of the condom and collapses on top of me like I’m a human mattress. For a few moments, the only sound is our ragged breath and the crickets buzzing outside our tent. My ass is raw and my bones ache and the pool of jelly that is my body slowly reforms in a new way.

“That was awesome,” Chris says with unbridled exuberance.

“Yeahhh….” I slur the word like I’m drunk. I’m still suspended in the cloud of sensation, waiting for my mind to rejoin my body.

“Which did you like better?” He noses my shoulder, and it takes me a second to realize he means which position.

“Don’t make me choose, Boss.”

He chuckles, his voice thick and scratchy. “I love it when you call me that.”

“I know you do.”

I listen to his breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine, the heat and weight of him on top of me. I grip him to me with both arms, thinking how lucky we are. How amazing this is.

Then I think about Uncle Theo and what he must have endured in keeping his secret all those years. What Chris and I have is special, and I don’t want to hide it. My relationship with my dad is important to me, but it has to be based on something real. The only way for him to know me is if I show him. Not who he’d like me to be, but who I honestly am.

“What are you thinking about?” Chris asks, laying his cheek on my chest like it’s a pillow.

“I have to tell my dad.”

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m there.”

“It might get ugly,” I warn him.

“Ride or die, baby.” He squeezes my thigh.

I sigh, swept up in all the emotions of the night, worried about what I’ll say to my dad and how he’ll react to it all. I talk a big game right now, but when faced with him, I might not have the guts to go through with it.

“Don’t stress, T. Put that energy to good use and rub my back till I fall asleep.”

I draw my hands down Chris’s strong back, wondering how I’ll ever manage to fall asleep with this big beefy blanket on top of me.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.





Old People Are the Worst


“SO, WHAT now?” Chris asks. We surfed all morning and headed back to West Palm early. Now it’s nearing lunchtime, and Chris is hungry.

“There’s someone I want you to introduce you to.”

“Awesome. Where we headed?”

“Paula’s Pit Barbecue.”

“They have the best potato salad,” he says happily. I make a mental note to remember. The feeding and care of Christian Mitcham is my sacred duty.

I realize when we pull into Saint Ann’s, both of us loaded down with contraband barbecue, that I might want to be a little subtler when breaking the nursing home rules. This time the woman at the front desk recognizes me, and only Chris has to produce his ID in order to get a visitor’s badge. We hide the bags of food behind the counter, even though the whole lobby smells like a barbecue joint. As soon as they hand us the passes, we head for the elevator before they can call us back.

Upstairs, I find Uncle Theo in his room, sitting in a recliner watching what appears to be a Netflix original, and I wonder who set him up with the account and password, since I’m not sure he could navigate that sort of thing on his own.