Destination, Wedding!

by Xavier Mayne

  “Oh my God, what’s the matter?” Kerry asked, sitting on the bed next to him, seeming not to care that she was wrinkling her new dress.

  Brandt shook himself out of his bleak musings to notice his reflection again. His eyes were red now, and a tear was making its way down his cheek. He’d had no idea he was crying. He closed his eyes for a long moment. He tried to think of something witty to say, something that would reassure her—and himself—that he wasn’t slowly going insane, but he couldn’t. All he could bring himself to say was the truth.

  “Without him, I’m afraid I don’t exist.”

  Well, that certainly sounded insane.

  But she didn’t seem fazed by it. She put her hand on his knee and looked into his eyes. “I know exactly what that feels like,” she said quietly.

  “You… do?” He was stunned.

  She nodded. “I do.”

  He shrugged, completely confused.

  “You know full well that Gabriel is feeling exactly the same way as you are right now. You two… you two made each other. He changed your life when he came into it, and you changed his. Like, forever and ever. Right?”

  He nodded, stunned that she could sum them up so effortlessly, so completely.

  “So of course you’re feeling adrift without him. But I’m going to let you in on a secret—it’s something women have to learn and most men never even dream of. Ready?” She waited for him to nod. “All right. You can be changed by someone—transformed into something completely new—and still be yourself. When you’re with him you feel like a new person, but you have to know that when you’re not with him, you are still a person. The people who are important to us change us, Ethan. That’s not a bad thing. It means we’re human, and humans weren’t meant to be unchanging and eternal.”

  She paused, but he was so overwhelmed by the idea of the impossibility of disentangling his identity from Donnelly’s that he could hardly take anything more in. So she continued.

  “I dated a physics major for a while in college. He was super nerdy and super hot, which was an amazing and rare thing in itself, but his best quality was his ability to take the most obscure science facts and make them almost philosophical. Late one night as we were lying on the grass in the quad outside our dorm, looking up at the stars, he said, ‘Do you know what a beam of light looks like as it travels through space? Like, completely empty space?’ And of course I had no idea, so I just said it probably looked like the lasers in Star Wars. He kind of smiled at me—that superior smile is the reason I dumped him, if you must know—and said ‘Nothing.’ I must have looked exactly as stupid as I felt at that moment, because he went on to tell me that light is invisible until it hits something. In the emptiness of space, there’s not even a speck of dust to scatter the tiniest part of that beam of light, and so it just continues in a straight line, at the speed of light and completely invisible, until it hits something. So now I’m all set if the physics of light comes up in Double Jeopardy, right? Yay.”

  Brandt chuckled, and this seemed to encourage Kerry.

  “But then he got this faraway look—which is the reason I waited so long to dump him, because that faraway look was sexy as hell—and he started down this really philosophical road, saying that people are the same way. You don’t really know what anyone’s like until they come into contact with other people, and then you see who they are. That’s why when you said you were afraid you don’t exist, I thought about that beam of light. Because in some ways it doesn’t really exist when it’s all by itself, like a tree falling in a forest when there’s no one to hear it. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real, or that it’s any less bright. It’s just waiting to be revealed when it hits something.”

  “If you start singing ‘This Little Light of Mine’….” he warned with a smile.

  “Not a chance—I hire people to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ so I don’t have to,” she said with a laugh. “But I really want you to know that I see the amazing person you are, even if you feel you aren’t who you really want to be when he’s not with you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, leaving aside the question of whether he was really who he wanted to be when he was with her either.

  “Good,” she said, rising and smoothing the winkles out of her dress. “Now, I’m going to get a little snooze in before unleashing this incredible dress on an unsuspecting populace. Help me out of it?” She turned and swept her hair to the side once more.

  He got up from the bed, unzipped her dress, and didn’t even look at the smooth skin of her neck, paid no mind to the sweet smell of her hair. He walked over to his side of the bed, took off his shoes, and lay back on the bed. Staring resolutely at the ceiling, he tried not to picture her as he heard her slip out of the dress, hang it up, then pull something out of the drawer below the armoire.

  “I’m going to turn the temp down a bit, is that okay?”

  Make it freeze, I beg you. “Sounds good.”

  He felt the bed dip as she lay down. He was as far toward the edge of the mattress as he could be without risking a fall to the floor, but he could still feel her next to him. She must have been a foot away, and yet the hairs on his arm rose up as if she had brushed against him.

  “You know,” she said after a silent few minutes, “aside from the whole escaping a volcano and nearly missing your wedding thing, this isn’t a bad adventure. We’re in Paris, we saw some amazing works of art, we shopped, we had le déjeuner in a sidewalk café, and now we’re being incredibly lazy, resting up before the hard work of eating an amazing dinner. This beats the hell out of most of the vacations I’ve ever taken.”

  “I’m not the adventuring type,” he replied, still fixing his gaze at the ceiling, “so if you’d told me a week ago that I could survive even half of what we’ve been through, I would have thought you were crazy.”

  “Turns out I’m not crazy?”

  “Didn’t say that,” he said with a laugh. “But this has been a pretty amazing adventure, and though I would trade you in an instant for Gabriel—oof!” Her elbow jabbed his ribs with a lightning blow. “Sorry, but you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” she said. “I just felt it necessary to defend my honor.”

  “Understood. Now, what I was saying is that though I would love to be having this adventure with Gabriel, you’re excellent company, and I am really glad Greg introduced us.”

  “Me too,” she said. “I hadn’t realized how much I miss having friends like you and Greg. My gay buddies were such a huge part of college, but when I entered the professional world, I suddenly found myself surrounded by polo-shirt-wearing, golf-playing mouth-breathers. If I didn’t need dick once in a while, I’d write off the entire straight male population. Being with you fulfills a need that I had kind of forgotten I have.”

  I know what you mean.

  “So,” she said, turning on her side and placing her hand on his arm, “thank you for coming into my life. I was getting frustrated and exhausted by everything—my job, the people in my life, all of it—and you’ve brought me back. Thank you, Ethan.”

  Brandt’s congenital passion for being useful completely overwhelmed his angst at being in bed with a woman, and he turned and smiled at Kerry. She was beautiful, he knew that, but with her hair casually tousled and her eyes bright with the emotion of their conversation, she was breathtaking.

  “And thank you for helping me get this far. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  She glowed, and her smile grew even wider. “All right, enough sappy stuff. Let’s get a little rest, and tonight we take the town!”

  “Watch out, Paris,” he said, and they shared a laugh.

  As silence fell over the room, it was just him and the ceiling. He stared for a long, long time.

  At sea

  “DO YOU like it when I do this?” Brandt asked, a fire in his eyes, a gloss of exertion on his forehead. His whole body bucked with the fervor of his thrusting as their bodies ground together.

  “Fuck. Yeah.” H
is breath came in short bursts now, the sweet agony of repeated blows on his prostate almost more than he could bear. They kissed, and even his shallow breath was taken.

  “Then you’re going to love this,” Brandt growled, and in one fluid motion caught him up in his strong arms and flipped him over, spinning him on the spindle of his enormous cock, dropping him back to the tangle of sheets their bed had become—without withdrawing.

  From this angle, he knew, Brandt could thrust more deeply and wildly. Those slim yet powerful hips gyrated crazily and then without warning began pounding away with an almost brutal power. He was losing control, shuddering under the onslaught, his own cock grinding into the bed, bringing him ever closer to the edge of his own orgasm. He bit his lip, trying to keep from shaking.

  “Are you sure I should come inside?” Brandt asked, but in a voice that was odd, different, higher.

  “Yes, I want you to,” a voice replied that wasn’t his own.

  Donnelly writhed, the sheets gripped in his fists.

  “But won’t your… friend mind?” That wasn’t Brandt’s voice at all. He had heard that voice somewhere, but he wasn’t sure where.

  “He’s fine with it. Promise. Now get in here.”

  When the door clicked shut, Donnelly sat up, suddenly wide-awake.

  He was alone.

  Brandt wasn’t here.

  He was on a ship. Oh.

  He listened for a moment to the sound of Sandler and the peachy waiter in the other room, whispering to each other urgently enough that their voices carried as well as if they’d been speaking in normal voices.

  Good for you, Donnelly thought. He settled back into bed and closed his eyes.

  “What would you like, Mr. Birkin?” he asked, the cheeks on his face as pronounced and beautiful as the ones farther south I’d already been admiring.

  I smiled at him, and he smiled back—the smile that says he knows full well why I’m smiling, but he’s not going to let me know he knows. Which he knows I now know. Let the games begin.

  “What do you think I’d like?”

  He paused for a moment and knitted his brow as if we’ve known each other all our lives and he’s searching back through the high school yearbooks for a clue as to what I’d be drinking. “I think you’d like something that tastes of… peach?” He delivered this line with such practiced nonchalance that I almost considered it a coincidence, but then there it was again, that hint of a grin. He had been listening to me and Gabriel, the little scamp.

  “You know,” I replied, “I think I am in the mood for peach. Is there something you would recommend to satisfy my craving?” I flicked my eyes downward to let him know what would really satisfy me.

  “I have just the thing,” he answered with a wink, and turned to walk slowly away, allowing me ample time to watch the luxuriant cadence of his buoyant buttocks rising and falling. I was hard in an instant.

  “Are you allowed to take off your uniform?”

  Donnelly smiled at the playful flirtatiousness of Sandler’s question. He was trying not to listen, but the instincts of a police officer are not easily switched off.

  “I’m off duty, so I can wear what I want,” the waiter replied.

  “Can I make a suggestion?”

  In the silence, Donnelly imagined the waiter’s nod, playful and expectant.

  “Take it off. Take it all off.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He brought me the drink in a tall, slender glass. It was a deep orangey-pink at the bottom, rising to a pearly white at the top. He set it before me, then stepped back, eyes aglow with anticipation.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Something no one’s ever had before,” he replied, a quiver of excitement in his voice.

  “Like you?” Clumsy, yes, but he was young enough that a veiled reference to sexual inexperience would flatter, not offend.

  “You’ll have to taste it before I tell you any of my secrets.”

  He may be young, but he knows how to flirt. I lifted his drink to my lips and tasted it, slowly but fully, just like I would taste him. I held the glass like I would hold him. Our eyes met.

  “Well?” he asked, his slick manner giving way to eagerness to witness my pleasure.

  “Delightful,” I replied, and that was no flattery. “It’s perfect.”

  “Do you want to know what’s in it?”

  “Not yet. Let me taste it all and discover it for myself.”

  He looked a little crestfallen. “Okay. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  “No, please, stay for a bit.” I looked around the room. “The place is clearing out—surely you can spend a few minutes?”

  That smile again. He glanced over to Emmett, who gave a quick nod and a wry smile. He perched on the barstool next to me, the one Gabriel had occupied, his eyes darting back and forth as if he were doing something scandalous. Perhaps he was.

  “I’m Ankur,” he said.

  “I know.”

  He looked surprised for a second, then glanced down at his name tag and smiled at me. “Sorry, I forget sometimes that we’re labeled.”

  “Surprise me, then. What’s describes you that’s not on the label?”

  He looked furtively around again before leaning over the table. “Interested,” he whispered.

  The thick sound of dropping uniform—unforgiving fabric cast from a standing height.

  The gasp of contact, of hidden skin caressed, flesh and muscle grasped by strong hands.

  The throaty mumble of urgent kisses, stubble scraping stubble.

  “Turn around.” Sandler’s voice resonated with lust and command in equal measure.

  Donnelly rolled over, restless.

  “Turn around,” I said.

  He looked a little disappointed, as if I had decided he wasn’t worth kissing. I kissed him again, to let him know. He smiled then and turned around. I sat on the edge of the bed, and watched him turn, saw that beautiful peach come into view. Covered by his stiff black pants it had seemed a wonder, but now… now it was perfection itself. Perfectly round, perfectly tight, perfectly covered with a fine, downy, perfect dusting of hair. I kissed one cheek—who could resist?—and then the other one. Goose bumps rose all over his body, and he gave a little shiver.

  “Is this okay?” I murmured into his flesh, my lips pressed to his warm skin.

  “Yes, please,” he replied, a confirmation and an invitation all in one.

  “Bend over.”

  Slowly, achingly slowly, he leaned forward, arching his back. His buttocks became spherical—not just round, but geometrically uniform—as he did. And then, as his back reached a perfect ninety-degree angle, they parted. Those perfect globes of muscle opened, just slightly, to let me see the paradise they guarded.

  “Oh fuck,” I whispered, without intending to. When presented with an ass that perfect one must simply say, “Oh fuck.”

  He stepped his feet apart, first the left and then the right, and opened wider. The invitation was clear.

  I kissed him again on the right cheek, and then the left, and then the right again, back and forth, each time edging a little closer to my goal in the dark recesses of that perfect ass. With each kiss, I felt him take a little breath, urging me on, letting me know how close I was getting to what he and I both wanted. Finally I reached the middle and placed a delicate kiss right on that obdurate ring of muscle. It was both indescribably soft and drum tight, and it responded to my kiss with a little twitch, a convulsion of desire that I could taste as much as feel. I kissed him again, and then I entered him.

  “Oh,” he moaned as I pressed the tip of my tongue through the center of that magic ring. He bent farther and pressed back against my face. “Oh.”

  “Oh.” The sound was so soft, so plaintive, so… tender. Donnelly couldn’t help but hear it, and hear in it the innocent hunger, the thrill of having a dream come true. It repeated, soft as a sigh, its meaning clear as a bell. Then silence, as if the one who made the sound had forsaken bre
athing altogether.

  Donnelly realized he was holding his breath.

  I pulled my tongue back and the knot of flesh snapped shut, closed tight against any intrusion. If he hadn’t flirted so effortlessly and accompanied me back to the suite so willingly, I would have sworn that I was looking now at a virgin enclave, an unexplored mystery. But perhaps he was less experienced than I had assumed. If he hadn’t been so tight, I might at this moment have slipped a spit-slicked finger inside and begun to tease him open. But the way he closed in on himself, like a sea anemone in the tide, made me want to seduce him, to insinuate myself gently, so he would open naturally to me. Instead of sliding a finger in, I kissed him again, softly, just brushing my lips against the tidy but irregular pleats of muscle that surrounded an opening no longer visible. I tickled my tongue in a dizzy circle all around it, zigzagging in a crazy random circumnavigation. Then I kissed him, my lips pressed against his opening, my tongue probing for reentry.

  His gentle sighs of pleasure were replaced with something sharper, more urgent.

  I sucked hard right at the center of his ass, and as I drew in more of his flesh, I felt it open to me—it unfurled its mysteries as my cheeks pulled in with the effort of maintaining the suction. He opened, and the sweet heat of his innermost place was revealed to my tongue as I drew him into me, trying to turn him inside out.