Her body tenses as she talks. It's as if a physical barrier slides between our bodies, the warmth and vibration gone. I roll then, slipping between her thighs and cupping her face. "I don't care what you've done or who you've prayed to. If it helps you get back to being fully you, that's all that matters. And if anyone judges you for that, they're not worth your time or energy."
She shifts, wrapping her legs around my hips. "Were you always like this and I just missed it?"
"You were too busy gripping the edge of the bunkers we snuck into to notice how awesome I was." She laughs and I nibble on the edges of her lips. "But I like to think I'm a bit improved over the previous edition."
I cup her face. "Have you gotten your sleep problem figured out?"
"Not really. I'm waiting for an appointment at the VA that I'm likely to never get." She scrapes her fingers over my chest. I love watching the ink on her arms move with her. "What about you?"
"I should sleep tonight."
She swallows and presses her lips against the notch at the bottom of my throat. "Will you stay?"
"I'd like to. Will it keep you awake?"
"No. I don't think so." She arches against me where I'm half erect and nestled in the moist heat between her thighs. "This might make it tough to sleep, though."
I slip against her heat, my cock hardening with the intense friction. "Now look what you've done."
"Is that for me?" She lifts her hips and draws me deep inside her. She's tight and warm and impossibly wet, the sensation electric and pure. She clenches herself around me and I damn near drop dead from the pleasure. "Jesus, do that again."
She does, rocking against me as she urges me to move, to slide deeper into her, to time my strokes to build the pleasure between us. She is vibration and energy and sexual heat. She is my everything.
She just doesn't know it yet.
I close my eyes, dragging my teeth over her ear as I push deeper into her, chasing the pleasure with every stroke.
Knowing it's temporary. Knowing I have to come clean with her at some point.
And not caring as the climax bursts behind my eyes, blinding in its intensity.
Kelsey
He is still in bed when I wake up. His arms are tight around me, his body rough and warm and solid and real.
I've slept.
I never appreciated sleep as much as I did when I stopped getting it. And as much as I credit yoga with saving me, it doesn't always help when it comes to sleep. I wish it did.
I don't move for a long moment, content to lie there in Deacon's arms and feel the heat from his body seep into mine, the beat of his heart pulse against my skin.
I'm okay. For now. I've managed to sleep. Even if it's only been for a few hours, it's better than nothing.
I really don't want to get out of this warm cocoon. I close my eyes and just lie still. Savoring the sensation of just being.
I still have to get my meds taken care of.
I guess I could try to tackle that problem again but I'm really not up for the ass pain of dealing with the VA.
I slip from his arms and pad into my tiny kitchen. It's really sad how much I don't cook. My kitchen has vegetarian meals in the freezer, and a container of milk in the fridge that I'm reasonably certain is expired.
I'm such a bachelor.
I glance over at the tiny figurine of Ganesh on my counter, a smile spreading over my lips. I lift him into my hands. He's pure white, the details painted in gold and red and turquoise. His trunk twists to the left, one palm holding his broken tusk as a pencil.
I stroke his smooth head. It really is funny how the universe works. I'm constantly amazed at those who say they don't believe in a higher power. I don't know what's out there but I know that yoga brought me out of the dark.
If you start really thinking about the obstacles in your life, it's pretty powerful what happens when you can let go of them.
I have to find the proper placement for the statue. I know he's not supposed to go in the bedroom unless you can’t avoid it. I settle on the window in the northeast corner of my apartment, where he can watch over everything.
I hear Deacon a moment before I feel his arms around my waist, his lips pressed to one shoulder. "Found him a home?"
I make a noise. "I can't explain it but it feels like something that was missing isn't anymore."
"I'm really glad you like him."
I turn in his arms, pressing my lips to the base of his throat. "Did you sleep?"
"Yeah. A couple of hours at least." He presses his lips to my hair. "Thank you for letting me stay."
"Thank you for letting me borrow your penis."
He laughs out loud, his body shaking into mine. "You're welcome to that any time."
"So listen, I'm getting ready to head to yoga. You can stay here if you want while I'm gone."
He draws me close, his arms wrapping tight around me. "Want some company?"
I lean back to look up at him, skeptical of his offer. "Have you ever done yoga?"
"Once. Enough to know what downward dog was when you were doing it in the basement the other day."
"You were watching me?"
"Maybe. But I had to stop because it was turning me on."
My lips twitch. "Which part?"
"The part where your glorious ass was in the air and all I could think about was standing behind you and…well, you probably get the idea."
Heat flashes between my thighs. God but I'm so needy these days. I rub my hips against his. "That probably wouldn't work unless I had really, really strong shoulders to hold myself up."
He lifts one eyebrow, his lips parted. His breath is suddenly ragged.
"You're thinking about that right now, aren't you?" I whisper.
I can feel his response pressing against my belly. He leans in, nipping at my earlobe instead. "I can't seem to get enough of you."
I tip my head, offering myself to him. "There's another pose we could try, though, that would probably work."
"You have my attention." His voice is guttural, his cock hard against my belly.
I back away from him slowly, toward the doorway to my bedroom, stripping my T-shirt over my head and dropping my panties.
I turn away from him, kneeling on the edge of my bed, watching his reaction over my shoulder.
Watching his hand slide down his belly to grip his cock beneath his boxers. Watching him stroke himself as he watches me.
I could watch his hand play over his cock for hours. The way he grips it hard, squeezing. Stroking.
I lower myself onto my knees, arching my hips and stretching my arms out in front of me, still managing to twist enough to watch him watching me.
My heat is exposed to him, open and inviting.
Still he stands there, stroking himself. Making me wait.
I reach back between my thighs, slipping my fingers through my heat. My body is ignited, an electric fire of pure sensation as I touch myself.
His stroke quickens.
I slip a single finger inside of myself. The pressure is slight, teasing, not filling me the way I want him to. But I continue, hoping he'll take the invitation.
Hoping he'll fill me and take his pleasure with me.
Frustration tightens in my belly. I'm close. I want to come with him inside me.
"Please, Deacon."
And he finally moves. Pressing against me where I'm sensitive and primed for him. Drawing my hips back as he fills me.
And I shatter with him as he slides into me. A perfect union.
Complete.
24
Kelsey
"You don't have to do this, you know." I hand him one of my extra yoga mats before we walk to Nalini’s studio.
It’s a short walk, about six blocks in the opposite direction from The Pint. It’s an old brick building that she’s painted white. The lobby walls are brick, lined with shelves. It’s funny how I notice the space with Deacon with me. The chalkboards that announce the class schedule. The books prop
ped up near the register. Behind the register a black bow with a notched arrow, pointed to the sky.
Nalini has created a sacred space here for us. A space for community. For peace and growth.
I glance over at Deacon as he fills out the insurance waiver required to attend class.
He's wearing shorts and a T-shirt and looking quite pleased with himself after our earlier episode. He hands the tablet back and follows me into the studio space.
"I want to. This is something that's important to you."
I glance at the mala beads hanging in the bright sunshine. I’ve never purchased a set but Nalini wears them.
"We're doing yoga nidra at the end of class. Are you going to be able to sit still for that long?"
"We'll find out, won't we? If I run from the room doing a Muppet flail, we'll know it's probably not a good idea to repeat."
"You're awfully nonchalant about this whole thing. Most people are really intimidated by yoga."
He lifts one shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be fine."
I take our mats into the studio and snag spaces for us, then I drop a blanket for each of us before I pop into the bathroom quickly.
I step back into the studio to see him lying flat on the mat, covered entirely by the blanket. One of the other regulars is looking at him like he's crazy.
"I paid for a nap?" His grin is pure mischief.
I yank it off him, grinning like an idiot and folding it back up. "The blanket is for after. You'll get cold doing the yoga nidra because your body will relax a lot."
He scowls and sits up, his legs crossed awkwardly in front of him. He's stiff but trying to play it cool. "Why is it so hot in here?"
"It's a heated class."
"What the hell does that mean?"
I sit next to him, crossing one leg over the other and twisting in his direction. "Have you heard of hot yoga?"
"I guess."
"Well, the guy who started that trademarked it so no one is allowed to do Hot Yoga. But studios can do heated yoga without violating his trademark. The studio is set somewhere around ninety to a hundred degrees and we do flow yoga in that."
He looks mildly horrified, as if I’ve just told him we’ll be handling live snakes or something. "Why would anyone want to do that?"
"Oh it's amazing. The first time I did it, I thought I was going to drop dead. But now that I'm used to it, I prefer it. You get deeper stretching and poses with it. You have to hydrate though. I sweat like nobody's business."
"I know something else that makes you sweat."
"Shhh!" The studio is starting to fill up as other people start placing their mats. Some are meditating, some just sitting quietly. "No talking during class, either."
He mirrors my pose, crossing one leg over the other and stretching. "No sarcastic comments? No swearing?"
"No. People are here for a lot of reasons so you have to respect people's ability to get into their flow."
"I assume that was English."
I narrow my eyes but can’t stop the smile spreading across my lips. "Are you nervous about this?"
He scoffs quietly. "No." Like the suggestion is absurd. "Why would I be?"
I smile at him. "You'll see. Bodhi’s a pretty intense instructor."
"I thought you said this was an easy class."
"It is." I fold over my legs, stretching the back of my quads. The burn and pull against the muscle is juicy and delicious, a hint of what's to come.
I look forward to this. To the flow. To the movement. To the tuning in to my own body and my own strength. To focusing on what I am, not what I used to be or what I could be. To be utterly and completely immersed and connected to everyone around me.
The instructor comes in and closes the doors, drawing down the blinds. "What's going on?" he whispers.
"Shhh. Just take your cues from him."
Bodhi is new but I’ve fast become a fan of his restore classes. He opens the class talking about the new moon and the power of new beginnings. I close my eyes and fold my hands in front of my heart, trying not to watch Deacon out of the corner of my eye.
He looks around at everyone then he rests his hands on his knees.
And then we om. A deep inhale and then I raise my voice with the sound vibrating in the air around me. It penetrates the bones of my chest, the center of my spine, running through my vertebrae.
I savor the sensation, the complete surrender of being connected with everyone around me.
We stand and Deacon follows.
I raise my arms overhead, reaching for the sky, then fold forward at the waist into the first sun salutation.
And try not to laugh as Deacon makes a noise somewhere between pain and surprise as he bends over.
Halfway lift. He's a beat behind everyone, his jaw set, his expression focused on keeping up.
It's a beginner flow class. Nothing too intense.
The instructor calls for malasana, the yogi squat. I ease down into it, balancing on the balls of my feet.
Deacon…I'm not sure what he's doing but it's something that resembles a dying stork. He wobbles badly and swears under his breath, his T-shirt already soaked. The room isn't even that hot yet.
He catches me watching him and he waggles both eyebrows and mouths something that might be I'm going to die.
I try not to laugh as I move into crow pose, trying to forget that my lover is next to me doing everything he can to keep up as he suffers through the next few poses. I hear something that might be no fucking way and try really hard not to laugh.
My soul warms with the connection, though, in knowing he's here with me because he wants to be.
And that, for the moment, I'm okay with him being here. I'm not afraid.
Maybe we're not as bound by our past. Maybe there's hope that the past…just is. That it will stay where it is.
That maybe, for once, I can be in the moment and savor it, without the fear of it rising from the dark.
I move into downward dog, my body releasing an unsettled feeling I've been carrying for far too long.
My bends are deeper, my arms stronger. I feel alive. Awake.
Whole, for the first time in years.
Deacon
I fold for what seems like the thousandth time and seriously try not to die from a heart attack. The last time I can remember being this covered in sweat was in Iraq after an eighteen-hour convoy security mission for a logistics patrol.
I am going to fucking die.
I started the class, watching Kelsey out of the corner of my eye. Watching how she seems to fall into the whole thing, like a well-worn pattern that's familiar and comfortable.
Then the instructor did the om. I wasn't going to do it. It seemed way too weird. But I found myself actually joining in and the vibration echoed through my ribcage. Not like the first time I did it, where it freaked me out. Maybe it's because I'm with Kelsey but this time was…kind of neat. The way my sound blended in with everyone else's?
Okay, so I think, I have this.
We move into something called warrior one. Okay, this is doable. Right?
Oh fuck no what are we doing now? Arms back overhead. Kelsey drops her back arm and lifts her front arm over her head in a graceful bow shape.
I feel like a deformed pretzel that got dropped on the floor, all jagged elbows and knees. There is nothing smooth about any of this.
Now what is warrior two? Okay, arms stretched. Upper thigh does what? Mine doesn't bend that far. Kelsey's front leg is parallel to the ground, her body straight and somehow soft.
We keep going through the different motions. Two seconds into this monstrosity called chair pose that I already hate, my thighs are screaming, threatening to amputate themselves and go on strike.
Half moon? Kelsey has one leg kicked out behind her, her upper body parallel to the floor, one arm stretching into the sky, the other barely skimming the earth. It’s graceful and poised. My legs don't separate like that and I'm damn sure not reaching the ground with one hand. I can bar
ely lift my back foot off the ground.
The instructor takes pity on me and brings me a block. I notice I'm the only one using it but at this point, I have no more pride left. I balance precariously on it, lifting my back leg as high as it will go, which isn't very damn high.
I've never felt more inadequate in my life.
Kelsey glances over at me and I give her a wobbly thumbs-up. I'm pretty sure I look about as cool as a cat dunked in a swimming pool.
Oh, what the hell is this? Dancer? Kelsey grabs her back foot, lifting it into the air, raising her other arm out in front of her. And she's barely freaking wobbling.
I can't even grab my back foot. Humbling isn't even the word for this.
The instructor moves on to something called wide-legged forward fold. That sounds benign.
Until I face the same direction as Kelsey and she folds over right in front of me.
And now I've got a semi looking at her sweet ass pretty much right in my face. Given that we were in a shockingly similar position not even a couple of hours ago, I’m now officially hard. I smile, imagining a juvenile Beavis and Butthead laugh in my head.
This is definitely not going according to plan. Damn it. I sneak my hand between my legs, flicking my cock. The pain is blinding but does nothing to take my erection down.
Kelsey gets down into something called side crow and I'm trying to stay upright. Jesus, there's another dude in here who's bare chested and holding the same pose.
How in the hell…?
I'm not even going to attempt it. I'll just hold twisted whatever it is that I'm doing at the moment. The only good part about this madness pretzel shit is that it made me lose my erection, which is good because now I won’t be embarrassed, looking like the stalker weirdo in the class, walking out with a hard-on. Pretty sure that’s a good way to get arrested.
Oh yay, now we're sitting. This should be easy.
And…nope. Not good. We're not sitting, we're kneeling and leaning backward. Because the human body is meant to do this. What the ever-loving hell?
Catch My Fall: A Falling Novel Page 19