Hanging Loose Part 6

"That too."

Now that we "did it," it was like the dam broke; I wanted more. I had an overwhelming urge to just touch him, taste him. Jez laughed and called me a big doof, but he was as caught up as I was. We acted like a couple of teenagers high on hormones. At least we managed to make some sandwiches without destroying the kitchen.

"Tell me something," he said over ham and cheese. "Where did this sudden change of heart come from?"

"Sudden?" I retorted, because Jez wasn't stupid; he must have seen the edge I'd been teetering on.

"Mmm..."

"I had some help to sort things out."

"Ah. So we're cool? You're not freaking out?"

"I'm cool," I a.s.sured him. "I'd like to do it some more, actually."

"Oh yeah?" His eyes glinted excitement.

"Yeah."

"I want to taste every inch of you."

"What's stopping you?"

He didn't, though; not right away. He went to the bathroom, and I had the sudden compulsion to straighten up the kitchen. Okay, maybe I was losing my nerve a little. I heard the splas.h.i.+ng of water, the opening and closing of doors. I waited for him to finish before going myself. I brushed my teeth, then stared into the mirror. I looked the same as always.

Jez was already in bed. I slipped out of my clothes and under the covers. Curling into Jez, I couldn't help but compare; everything about him was different. Jez was hard where Jenny was soft; firm for pliant; his face scratchy with stubble, not smooth. He even smelled completely different. I was attracted to it-it turned me on like nothing else-but it was still strange and new. It was one thing getting blown in the kitchen and another to be in bed with a man. Like a couple. Jez stroked my temple, his strong hand unexpectedly gentle.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a hushed tone.

I nodded.

My hands continued their clumsy exploration of Jez's body. He seemed tense. At last Jez pulled away from me and sat up. I looked at him, confused. He tucked the sheets around himself in uncharacteristically demure fas.h.i.+on.

"This was a bad idea," he said.

"What?"

"Look, let's forget anything happened. We can go back to the way we were."

I looked at Jez, puzzled.

"You're still emotional; you don't know what you're doing," he said.

I sat up too. "Are you still worried I'll freak out?" I asked.

"I'm worried that you'll realize this isn't really what you want. We'll get all awkward and end up not talking to each other, and you'll move out. You're uncertain. I can tell."

"Idiot," I said and began to peel the sheets away from him.

He huffed but didn't resist.

When he didn't say anything, I spoke. "I'm not uncertain, just nervous. You'd think you've never been with a virgin."

"Only once, and it didn't turn out well."

"Well, this'll be different. I promise."

I finally managed to tug all the sheets off him to reveal an expanse of smooth skin. That urge to touch him, feel him under my hand, that I had since I first saw him overwhelmed me. I ran my finger down his chest, tracing the contours of muscles.

"You're so beautiful," I murmured.

Jez's breathing quickened. I felt his gaze burning into my skin. I followed the thin gold trail of hair from his navel to his groin. His soft c.o.c.k was flopped on his thigh. I put my palm over it and felt it jump. We locked eyes.

"I'm nervous as h.e.l.l," I said. "But I really want you, and not just tonight. But I don't know what the h.e.l.l I'm doing. I need you to show me. Please?"

I watched the doubt and hesitation in Jez's eyes turn into naked hunger. He pulled me to him and kissed me hard. l.u.s.t surged in my veins as we rolled around in the bed. When Jez took my c.o.c.k, I realized how hard I was.

"Nate, d.a.m.n," he growled.

Jez, confident and s.e.xy, was back. He slid his expert hands over my skin, leaving tingling trails in their wake. Still, I froze when his fingers swept along my a.s.s.

"Shh, we won't do anything you don't want."

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling contrite. "I want to. I just don't think I'm ready."

"I'm not expecting you to be."

"You don't mind?"

Jez pushed himself up on one elbow.

"Some gay men never do it."

"Really? I thought-"

He rolled his eyes. "Only straight people think that all gays ever do is a.n.a.l s.e.x. There are so many other ways to have fun."

"Hey, who are you calling straight?"

"My apologies. You're decidedly bent," he said, laughing.

"Thank you. That's better."

"You're a nut."

That must have given him an idea, because he disappeared under the blanket, and a second later, my nut sac was enveloped in the wet warmth of his mouth. I threw off the blanket. I didn't want him to suffocate, but most of all, I wanted to see him. He looked up at me with eyes full of filthy promises.

"I wasn't kidding," Jez murmured in a husky voice I hadn't known he had.

"Huh?"

"About tasting every inch of you."

And he wasn't. He had this easy, unselfconscious way of doing things to me that made my toes curl. No doubt, he had far more experience than I did. Jez was simply shameless about enjoying himself, enjoying me. He seemed to have a knack for finding every sensitive spot I had, even-especially-the ones I didn't know about, from my toes to the tips of my ears. He was utterly unabashed working his way up and down my body. I tried to reciprocate, but he swept my attempts aside.

"Just lie back and enjoy yourself," he said.

So I did. Maybe for the first time in my life, I really let go, focusing only on the physical sensations his touches induced. I was taut like a rubber band, ready to snap, and he barely even touched my c.o.c.k. His own rubbed and rutted against me here and there, but almost like an afterthought. I wanted to touch myself, touch him, but he batted my hands away. I gripped the sheets in frustration.

"Please," I whimpered when I couldn't take it anymore.

"Please what?"

"Anything, please."

He could've f.u.c.ked me then and there, rammed his c.o.c.k up my a.s.s, and I wouldn't have done a thing to stop him. But he didn't. Jez moved, the bed dipped to one side, and he positioned us till we were on our sides, face-to-face, c.o.c.k-to-c.o.c.k, legs tangled. I finally understood why Jez always kept hand lotion on his night table. He slathered it liberally on our shafts, sliding his hand on each with a teasing touch while I looked on, entranced.

Once they were well lubricated, he held our c.o.c.ks together in a firm but not too tight grip. Instinctively I curled my hand around from the other side and followed his lead as he began to stroke up and down. The lotion turned the already delicious friction into something bordering obscene. We kissed, and our hands moved slow and s.e.xy, but then the strokes got faster, our breathing laborious.

"Jez, I'm..." I panted.

"Yes, baby. Come for me," Jez urged, and from the tightness of his tone, I knew he was right on the edge too.

Not able to hold back any longer, I came, spilling between us, Jez only moments behind.

I woke the next morning in Jez's bed, spooning, and I was the little spoon. There was a first time for everything. I didn't mind in the least. Jez's legs lay heavily over mine, arm cast around my chest. His weight on me was solid and reaffirming; I liked the way it held me in place. I would have been content to lie there like that forever. Well, except that I had to pee. I moved to slide out of bed without waking him, but his arm tightened, pulling me back. Jez was mumbling something incoherent, still asleep.

"Shh... I'll be right back." I peeled his arm off, and he rolled away.

I stretched, and a pleasant soreness washed over me. My muscles pretended to complain but couldn't quite hide their smug contentment. I ambled off to the bathroom without bothering to dress.

On my way back, I picked up my sketchbook. I crouched on the foot of the bed, taking the opportunity to just look at Jez undisturbed. He was so beautiful that my heart did a little flip-flop. Sprawled on his back, one hand resting on his pillow, the other cast to the side, he projected the lazy self-confidence of a cat in repose. His tanned body, with its sleek curves, lay in sharp contrast against the crumpled mess of white sheets. The comforter had slipped to his waist. I carefully tugged it a little lower and began to draw.

I sat there, putting on the finis.h.i.+ng strokes, when his eyes blinked open, and he stretched. My features warped themselves into an involuntary grin. I couldn't help it; he just had that effect on me. He returned it.

"Morning, suns.h.i.+ne," he said groggily.

I crawled over him and kissed him. He kicked the comforter all the way off and locked his legs around mine while he pulled me down on him.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm fine. Idiot."

Jez grinned, relieved, and pulled me closer.

"Let's spend the day in bed," he whispered into my neck between small nips.

He was hard, and I was rapidly getting there myself.

"I have to go to work in a little while," I groaned unhappily.

"Call in sick."

"I can't. It'll be a busy day."

"d.a.m.n your work ethic." Jez canted his hip, and his c.o.c.k pressed harder into the hollow of my stomach, making my skin p.r.i.c.kle with antic.i.p.ation.

"Can I introduce you to shower s.e.x at least?" he pleaded.

"I'd love that."

The next Thursday morning, I found him in front of the laptop.

"Hey," Jez said, giving me a heedful look. I thought sometimes he still expected me to change my mind about us and bolt.

"Hey." I smiled back to rea.s.sure him. He visibly relaxed.

"I got an idea. Let's go up to Zuma Beach."

"The waves are good?"

"The waves are dead, baby. No, I was thinking just you and me and the beach. We could pack a picnic."

"Sounds fun. Let's do it."

We parked along the highway where the beach was narrowest instead of paying a fee to park fifty feet closer. Jez carried an ancient beach bag with the food and stuff. I hefted the towels and a big blanket. We settled on a sand ridge close to the water. It being a weekday, the beach was pretty deserted; there was a gaggle of girls off to the distance in one direction and a couple off to the other.

I stripped off my s.h.i.+rt but left my denim cutoffs on and sat down on the blanket. Jez, s.h.i.+rtless as usual, strolled down to the water. He waded in just far enough that the bigger waves licked the hem of his shorts. He turned around and jerked his head, beckoning. I shook mine. I preferred to stay on dry land and drink him in with my eyes.

I leaned back on my elbows and let the mood of the place take me. Here the world was made of unrestrained splashes of color: pale sand; endless ocean trimmed with sharp white froth; cloudless, vivid blue sky. Against that giant canvas stood Jez, umber and blond, in turquoise shorts, his smile a dash of white. On the half-deserted beach, everything seemed so recklessly simple. It made me believe that life could be like that-uncomplicated. I liked Jez, and Jez liked me. I could let myself enjoy it. All the other stuff-all the worries and doubts-I could let go, let the tide wash them out. I watched Jez stroll up to me in that loose-limbed way that was so him.

"You're thinking. I can tell," he said.

"Nuh-uh."

"Liar!"

Jez dropped down on the blanket next to me. I gave in to the urge to touch him. I ran my hand over his abs; they were both smooth and hard.

"I was thinking about colors." I let my hand fell to the waistband of his shorts. "Blue-green goes well with your skin tone."