The Other Half

by Jess Whitecroft

  He’s right. I need it.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’ll take it. As soon as possible.”

  He runs his hands over my hair, tipping my head back, and looks down at me. “You’ll feel better for it. I know you will.”

  “But what if it’s…”

  “Shh.” Jody kisses me softly. “We’ll worry about that if and when, okay? Let’s not borrow any more fucking trouble than we have on our hands already.”

  “Trouble? This is trouble?”

  “You’d better believe it,” he says, with the kind of smile I feared I might have wiped off his face forever. “When it comes to love you’re the walking wounded, and I’m just the kind of idiot who likes to try and play doctor. We’re a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “You say that, but you’re still smiling.”

  “Of course I’m smiling,” he says. “I’m sitting in your lap. Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to be here?”

  I slide my hands up under the back of his coat. His body is lean and compact, a little whipcord thing built for writhing around on tabletops. “I have to be straight with you,” I say, thinking of hands stuffing twenties into his thong. “I don’t think I can cope with you doing porn. Not after everything I’ve been through…”

  He shakes his head and presses the tip of his nose against mine. “It’s okay. I’ll stop. It was starting to make me miserable anyway, ever since it started to remind me of how much I’d prefer to have you.”

  “And what if you can’t have me? What if my brain and my dick are permanently broken?”

  Jody ducks his head. His lips are warm and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to stop kissing him now that I have permission. “You’re hurt,” he says. “But you’ll get over it. And your dick’s not broken. It’s just a little sad right now. All we have to do is figure out the right way to make it happy again.”

  *

  We got here in Jody’s truck, since it actually has snow chains. I froze up on the way to the clinic and he didn’t push me to talk – instead just rummaged in the tangle of ancient cassette tapes until he found something that looked good and shoved it into the tape player.

  Blood On The Tracks. I know the track list by heart, and the songs are so familiar that it’s a wonder they can still move me, but that’s the magic of Dylan, I guess. And it’s been a long time since I had a tune in my head. Maybe since the day it happened.

  So here I am, sitting underneath a poster about the dangers of drunk driving, with Bob Dylan’s bee-in-a-jar voice buzzing in my head. Shelter From The Storm. I turned faint when they pricked my finger, and Jody says he was worried I was about to keel over on top of the five foot nothing nurse.

  We don’t speak, but the nurse comes out and I guess – from the way she’s looking at me – that it’s time. “You want to come in together?” she says, and I feel like I’m going to faint. Why is she asking that? Is she about to tell me something I’d do better not hearing alone?

  But then Jody says “Sure,” and I’m walking on watery knees into the little side exam room. The nurse is smiling. She hands us each an official looking medical form.

  “You’re both fine,” she says.

  “Both?”

  I glance down at Jody, who shrugs. “I ducked in and got a skin prick while you were in the bathroom,” he says. “Thought it might make you feel better.”

  I don’t know what to say. I’m still lost for words as we walk out into the parking lot. The snow is coming down thicker now and my head is still buzzing with Dylan lyrics and a weird, bone-deep background hum. He just did that. He offered himself up for the same ordeal because he thought it would set my mind at ease.

  “Are you okay?” he says, as we get back into the truck. “You’re not going to go all swoony again, are you?”

  “No. I’m good. I’m great.” I feel as though I’m vibrating, at a pitch of certainty and rightness and lightness now that this fear has been lifted from me. As we drive off into the snow I’m tingling, as if every nerve and muscle is singing in celebration of reprieve. The thrill moves down my spine, under the backs of my thighs and then settles between them, and I hardly dare to breathe as I feel that warm, knowing heaviness flood into my balls.

  I shift my legs apart and feel the blood flow faster and hotter. I’m up. I’m almost bursting out of my pants I’m so hard, and the anxiety has gone. I’m thick and clean and brand new and all his.

  The snow is coming down thick now, perhaps even heavy enough to mitigate the insanity of what I’m thinking right now. “I want you,” I say.

  “I know. I want you, too.”

  He’s black and white and beautiful against the snow, and I know this is beyond nuts, but I have to seize the moment. “No,” I say. “I mean now.”

  Jody glances quickly at the crotch of my jeans. “Are you…?”

  I nod, and he smiles, a broad, dirty-minded grin. “Show me,” he says. “Take it out.”

  My rapid breaths hang in the cold air as I fumble with the buttons and lift my hips. The leather seat feels chill on my bare ass but my cock is hard and hot. No, this erection isn’t going to wilt on me; I can feel it. It’s solid, veiny and purposeful, and it wants him more than anything else in the world. Jody gives a thirsty, sexy gasp of appreciation and I caress myself, teasing him and sending sparks dancing through my belly and balls, and all up and down the insides of my thighs.

  “There,” he says, triumphantly, as he spots a side road where we can pull in.

  This is it. This is crazy, and this is really happening. He unclips his seatbelt and yanks his pants down just far enough to get it out. He’s so hard that the tip is dark red, like he’s dipped it in wine, and that sets my head spinning with the thought of how much I want to suck him. The end of his nose is icy but the inside of his mouth is blood hot and delicious. He straddles me in the passenger seat, and I reach for him eagerly. His hand finds me and the chill of his fingers almost collapses me, but I remind myself that this is Jody. This is him and me and we’re in this. We’re doing this, all hands and tongues and freezing breaths, our hearts like thunder and our cocks set to explode.

  I can’t stop. I rise into his fist, shuddering as I feel the first waves begin to break in my brain. “Yes…?” he whispers, with this questioning little rise at the end that’s part encouragement, part invitation, and I’m already done. I’m bucking, bursting, panting clouds into the air between us. He licks at my open lips, his eyelashes fluttering over my cheek and his fingers still tight on me, squeezing me for every last drop.

  Jody leans back, ducking his head under the ceiling of the cab. He smears my come all over his sleek, perky-headed cock, and I reach out, desperate to return the favor. “No, let me do it…that’s it.” He lets out a low cry as he begins to fuck my grasping fingers and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so lovely in my life before. “Go for it, Gorgeous. Go on. I want to see you get off.”

  He thrusts too hard and bumps his head on the roof. “Ow,” he says, laughing, and then something incredible happens, because the ‘ow’ somehow shifts mid-note into an ‘ohh’ and he’s coming and laughing all at once. He’s giggling even as an exuberant spurt flies out and catches me on the side of the mouth and I lick it up. It’s salty-sweet and perfect and I pull him down into my lap as he shudders to a halt.

  “I love you,” he gasps, still smiling, still shaking. “Oh God, I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I can’t stop smiling either. “Holy shit. What did we just do?”

  “I don’t know, but I can’t wait to do it again.”

  “We should go,” I say, conscious of the steamy windows. “Before someone thinks we’re stranded. This cab reeks of sex.”

  Jody scrambles back into the driver’s seat and zips his jeans up. “I know, right? It’s so fucking hot.” He leans over and kisses me again, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth as he pulls slowly away. “God,” he says. “You. Reeking of sex. That’s a whole new thing I definitely need more of in my life.”
/>
  As we rejoin the stream of slow moving snow traffic, my head is swimming with a million new and erotic possibilities. The protein taste of him lingers on my tongue just enough to make my mouth water. We need to be somewhere with four walls and a bed, because my fingers are still tingling with the memory of his sticky, silken cock, and the desire to feel skin under my hands and all over me is simmering, threatening to boil over into pure need.

  I know he feels it, too, because he sighs with impatience as we crawl along the highway. And then – like some kind of mirage – I see it. A sign for some no-tell motel that we passed on the way over.

  “Here,” I say. “Why don’t we stop for the night?”

  “Are you kidding? They’ll never have a room in this weather. Everyone probably has the same idea as us.”

  “You mean everyone just had sex in their cars and are dying to go for round two?”

  He shakes his head and laughs, but he pulls in anyway. And we’re in luck, because there’s room at the inn. I check us in and we hurry to our room. He’s still warmed through with afterglow and the snow melts fast on his red, recently kissed lips. I send him across the threshold with a gentle swat across his ass and he’s out of his jacket before he’s even finished turning around. Up comes the shirt and sweater all in one, his pale pink nipples standing out in the cold.

  I pounce and then it’s like a fight. We’re writhing and kissing and clawing at buckles and buttons and laces, growing increasingly frantic as we scramble to strip each other bare. Finally I’m down to nothing but a sock that’s sliding off my toes, and he groans softly with satisfaction as he wraps his arms and legs around me. Skin on skin. The room feels chilly, but I can already feel the heat blazing up from his belly and torso.

  “Oh, fuck yeah,” he whispers, as he runs his hands over my back. “That’s what I wanted.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You. Your hands.” He rolls me over and thrusts gently against me, already hard once more. His long-tailed eyes are black and glittering, his lips unfathomably beautiful. “Don’t ever stop touching me,” he says. “That time when I fell through the ceiling and you ran your hands over me? I thought I was gonna straight up fucking explode.”

  I skim my fingertips over his ribs. He moves like a cat as my palms settle on his skin, gliding upwards. My thumbs find his hard nipples and he shivers, reminding me of the cold outside. “You’ll freeze,” I say. “Let’s get into bed.”

  As we slither under the covers together I get a look at the room for the first time. Pale and olive drab walls, a cheap sideboard and a bucket chair upholstered in the same ugly greenish fabric as the bedcover.

  “What?” he says, snuggling up. “What are you thinking?”

  Somehow the sheets above us make it official. We’re in bed together. Not just huddled up for warmth in a sleeping bag, but bedded down like real lovers. “This is another thing I’ve never done before,” I say. “Checking into a motel purely for sex.”

  He rubs his lips over my collarbone. “Another thing?” he says, and frowns. “Wait – are you saying what I think you’re saying? Did I just pop your car sex cherry?”

  “Yep.”

  “No way. Are you serious?”

  “Very. Having sex in cars while black is no laughing matter. In many parts of the country it can literally take years off your life.”

  “Shit. Did I just do something racially insensitive?”

  He’s so wide-eyed and earnest that I have to laugh. “No, honey. I started it. Remember?” I just whipped that thing out in the passenger seat, and I can still hardly believe I did it. I’m up and ready again, but this time I want to make it last.

  “So you never made out the backs of cars when you were a teenager?” he says, winding his legs around me.

  “Nope.”

  “Wow. Talk about a misspent youth.”

  “It was. I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty three.”

  “Shut uuup,” he says, boyishly, as I roll him over under the covers. He squeezes my ribs between his inner thighs and I thrust slowly back and forth over the underside of his balls. “You were so virtuous.”

  “No,” I say, kissing his mouth. “Just picky as hell.” God, we fit together so nicely. “I was determined that my first time was going to be perfect.”

  “And was it?”

  “It was pretty great. Not gonna lie.”

  “Was it perfect?” he says, and there’s a flash of challenge in the lift of his eyebrow, and I get it. What we just did was far from perfect. It was fumbly and awkward and sticky and over far too fast, but it was also steamy, thunderous and illegal, and it made my cock rise like Lazarus.

  “Perfect is for Olympic diving judges,” I say. “It’s not for sex.”

  Jody ‘hmms’ in a sideeyed way that I know means he’s not completely satisfied with my answer, but he’s hard in my hand and it feels like it’s time to get this party started again. “What about you?” I ask, stroking him slowly. “How old were you?”

  “Me? Oh, I was a little slut.” He grins and wriggles his hips into my touch. “Punched my V-card when I was fifteen.”

  “Disgraceful,” I whisper, kissing him. “Girl or boy?”

  “Girl,” he says. “But I knew I liked both even then. I’d fooled around with boys but girls were more likely to let you kiss them. And I loved kissing.” He laps at my lower lip. “Could do it for hours, long past the point where they wanted more.”

  He lifts his chin, cups my jaw and takes my mouth. His tongue probes deliberately, with a cool confidence that almost makes me want to play this game, if only I wasn’t so hungry for every last scrap of him right now. I slacken my grip on his dick, now teasing with only the tips of my fingers as I deepen the kiss. “Like this?”

  “No.” His lips are wet against mine. “Nothing below the waist until they were practically crying for it, then I’d go in…” Kiss. Sigh. Oh God, I want him so much. “Sometimes just the touch of my finger was enough. And then…boom.” His smile is straight up sinful. “Love that. Used to get me so fucking hot.”

  “It sounds amazing,” I say. “But I don’t think I have that kind of restraint right now.” I start to burrow down under the sheets, dropping kisses all over his chest. “I want all of you.”

  Jody sighs as I go exploring, teasing the edge of his navel with my tongue, wetting the silvery snail trail of dried come on his belly. I can’t tell if it’s his or mine. His cock is long and graceful, tipped with the same deep pink as his shaved balls. He opens up so I can lift them, jostling them gently in their velvety sac. I kiss them first and he sighs, a soft, small sound so unlike his usual porn moanings that I’m immediately captivated. He breathes faster as I work my way up the shaft, tracing tiny circles with the very tip of my tongue.

  “Do you want to fuck me?” he says, all in a rush, like it’s now or never.

  “Of course, but…”

  “Inside pocket of my jacket.”

  I jump out of bed and go rummaging, shivering in the cold, until I find what he’s talking about. Condoms. Several foil packets of lube. Trust Jody to grab a handful of the complimentary goodies while we were at the free clinic.

  “You’re a genius,” I say. His skin is almost hot to the touch and he snuggles close, rubbing me warm with his palms as I sit on the edge of the bed and put on a condom. It’s tight, but it will do; I’m in no mental shape for any more bareback action just yet, and I’m grateful for his consideration.

  “Okay. Here we go. You ready to get into this?”

  “Hell yeah,” says Jody, tugging open a lube packet with his teeth as he hitches up his heels. “What part of ‘slut’ were you not getting?”

  I watch with a bone-deep dirty thrill as I push a finger inside him. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a quiet moan as I go deeper, up to the knuckle. He’s tight and supple and so very hot. Fresh blood thrums through my cock as I open him up wider, spreading the lube up inside him. He frowns, scrunching his nose. He’s giving me ever
ything so fast, and I should be freaking out, but this feels right.

  “Do you want to come to New York with me?” I ask.

  Jody opens his eyes. “Uh…now? Because I’m kind of busy trying to get banged, in case you didn’t notice.”

  I can feel his prostate. It’s probably unfair to start playing with it now, but I can’t resist. I rub it gently and watch his head go back, his mouth falling open around a long, silent groan. “So is that a no?”

  He gets a grip of himself long enough to glare at me. “Penis. In me. Now.”

  I laugh, and I’m still giggling as I enter him, until the sweet, filthy pleasure of it steals the breath from my laugh. “Oh, I love a pushy bottom,” I whisper, when I’ve found my voice again. His eyes are full of lust, his balls heavy and his ass hot and soft.

  “And I love a big dick,” he says, grinding down onto me. I start to move and the urge to fuck is fierce and immediate.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “Am I hurting you?”

  His breath hisses in once more and he shakes his head. “No. It’s good.” He moans, rocking his hips to take even more of me. “It’s real good. Oh God…”

  The way that breathless ‘oh God’ falls from his lips sets me on fire. I know very well what he sounds like when he’s coming, but it’s not this. It’s not the close-lipped stifled cry he makes as I fill him, or the hoarse gasp that follows. No, these noises are all for me. These are private and ours and they make me go harder, eager to hear what comes out of his mouth next.

  Forget New York. I’m not leaving him, not now that we have this. “I’m gonna stay here with you,” I tell him. “I’m going to stay right here and fuck you until you cry.”

  He looks up at me, open mouthed, his eyes jet black. I lean back and look down, because he’s so beautiful I can hardly believe I’m in him, but there – there I am. There we’re joined, his balls high and tight, his cock hard against his belly and his hot little hole stretched around me. “I’m gonna make you come so many times you can hardly see straight,” I say, as I fuck him with short, hard strokes.