Irresistible

by Andrew J. Peters

  Cal’s finger traced his teardrop. “You’re going to make me cry too.”

  Brendan wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I really know how to kill a moment, don’t I?”

  Cal pulled him close and laid his head on Brendan’s shoulder. “Just this, Brendan; hold me tight. I feel like I’m falling. Is it normal to feel that way?”

  Brendan shut his eyes while their bodies were crushed together. “I don’t know. But it’s good. As long as we don’t both collapse.”

  Cal giggled. “That would be kind of funny. Someone would have to call the paramedics, and what would we tell them?”

  Brendan nuzzled against his ear. “Callisthenes,” he said. “I love saying your name.”

  “I love hearing you say it.”

  Brendan’s heart grew so big and warm, he wasn’t sure he could withstand it. He needed Cal that night, not just because his body was revved up like a Grand Prix motorcycle. Cal made him feel so happy, so special, like there really was something good and loveable inside of him, powerful enough to save the world. “Callisthenes, can I take you home?”

  Cal hooked his hand and grinned. “You bet.”

  NO SOONER THAN the door to Brendan’s apartment eased shut behind them, they pressed together, tore at shirt buttons and tugged at pants to free each other of their clothes. The cautionary refrain of Cal’s still, small voice: “You’ll kill this relationship if you move too fast,” was drowned out in a crescendo of wonder and desire. He and Brendan belonged together. Cal felt it in his soul. What else did two people do when they discovered that kind of connection? It had to be validated. It had to be celebrated.

  They kicked off their shoes and left their pants and shirts on the hallway floor. Cal followed Brendan into the apartment in a shuffling dance as they grasped at each other and fumbled for each other’s mouths. The apartment was dark. It felt vast and smelled of polished wood, and Brendan himself, which was a scent that was hard for Cal to describe—something like lightly worn clothes and a citrus-crisp deodorant, and whatever pheromones Brendan gave off that reached into Cal’s gut and yanked him like a magnet. Brendan’s naked body was firm and defined, though he felt slighter in Cal’s arms than expected, strangely fragile, maybe from working out too much and not eating enough.

  Brendan cornered him against a wall, stooped to his knees, pulled Cal’s boxer briefs down to his ankles, and devoured him between the legs. Whoa-ho, that was nice, though Cal exercised some restraint and guided his eager Romeo up to his feet. He had absolutely nothing against blowjobs, but their first time together called for something more special than a quickie in a dark hallway. If things worked out as Cal hoped they would, they had a lifetime of blowjobs ahead of them. He stepped out of his briefs and told Brendan, “Shouldn’t you show me your bedroom first?”

  Brendan took his hand and led him through the shadowy apartment, down carpeted hallways with framed artwork, past rooms in hollows of darkness. He was clearly too single-minded to give Cal the grand tour, and traipsing along in his birthday suit, Cal didn’t mind. They arrived in a spacious room that smelled even stronger of Brendan. Brendan flipped a light switch by the door and stepped aside.

  Cal’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. The room was easily the size of his and Derek’s entire apartment, and it was furnished like a five-star hotel suite, or at least the ones Cal had seen in movies. The bed was like a throne—king-size, with an enormous walnut headboard and carved posters. It was dressed with a big, fluffy down comforter. Cal smirked at Brendan, and then he lunged for the bed, crash-landing spread-eagled on his back.

  Brendan skulked toward him with a playful, predatory grin. He pounced on top of Cal. Play wrestling gave way to kissing, with thighs sliding over each other, hands finding nipples, and the turgid parts between their legs grinding together.

  Cal rolled over Brendan and snuck down his body to peel down his briefs and repay his favor in the hallway. That was luscious and inspired bigger ideas.

  He rustled up on top of Brendan and straddled his hips. Shy anticipation flooded his body, making him dizzy and breathless. Cal could count on one hand the number of times he’d gone all the way with guys. He’d never been so bold as to do it on a first date.

  Brendan searched his face. He was such a gentleman, confirming Cal’s consent. Cal’s throat was dry and tight, and his head was suddenly too heavy to lift to make eye contact. All he could do was joggle his head.

  Brendan stretched a hand to the drawer of his bedside table and brought out a condom and a little bottle of lubricant. Cal took the lubricant to do his business, and he put the condom on Brendan’s not so little soldier. His eyes burned when Brendan entered him, but as he gasped out and adjusted, the pain peeled away.

  Grinning now, Cal opened his eyes. Brendan’s facial expression was adorably gobsmacked, like a boy who’d never fathomed that his man part could do such a deliciously raunchy thing. Cal drank him in, and then they worked at it together, and Cal moaned, and Brendan groaned, and thank god he was a groaner because Cal cried and whimpered like a porn star during sex, which, really, was half the fun. Together, they made loving oaths, and dirty oaths, and high-pitched gasps of disbelief. When they both started stuttering, Cal directed Brendan’s hand so they could come together, which they did in a babbling, bucking clamor.

  This was fucking at its earnest and loving best.

  Cal nestled on top of Brendan. He gripped his lover’s sturdy thigh between his own while their chests heaved and their heartbeats pounded.

  Brendan brushed his fingers brushed through Cal’s hair. “Callisthenes, will you be my boyfriend?”

  Cal kissed him on the chest. “Do you promise we can do that every night and day, whenever I want?”

  Brendan propped himself up on an elbow and turned to Cal. “I’ve never had sex that good before. But that’s not why I asked. I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  His face was grim and pained. Cal felt like an all-star asshole for being so flip. Though everything about the way he looked and the way he lived made him seem powerful and self-assured, Brendan was a gentle, vulnerable man. Cal wanted to tend and nurture him. He didn’t fully understand how Brendan had been hurt before, but he wanted to show him the world could be beautiful.

  He gazed into Brendan’s slate-blue eyes. “You’re stuck with me now. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

  Brendan cradled Cal’s head and crushed their lips together.

  Chapter Four

  CAL HAD TO leave in the morning to change clothes and open up his uncle’s shop. After the night they’d shared, Brendan didn’t want to let him go, but he perked up with a grin when his cell phone dinged with a text message no more than a minute after Cal was out the door. Cal was texting from the elevator to say he missed him.

  They texted each other all morning. After taking a shower, Brendan sent an e-mail to his grandfather to say he wouldn’t be making it into the office. Appearances were kept up about Brendan’s place in the company. But they both knew unless there was an important client coming in who might need to be impressed by a boardroom full of well-bred Thackeray heirs, Brendan would spend the day surfing the Internet in his oversized and underutilized office. He texted Cal to offer to bring lunch to the shop, and he headed out to pick up felafel sandwiches from his favorite Lebanese restaurant.

  He strode down Lexington Avenue with a take-out bag swinging from one hand, smiling at passersby and glancing at familiar storefronts, which shone anew in Disney-movie Technicolor. He was as fresh as a daisy even though they’d barely slept last night. Between rounds of making love in every delicious permutation they could improvise, they’d curled up at the head of his bed, talking into the early hours of the morning when exhaustion had finally claimed them. Brendan had shared his disastrous relationship with Thiago as well as his many unachieved ambitions. He told Cal about his big dream to start a foundation for homeless kids, which he hadn’t confessed to anybody for fear he’d sound like every other limous
ine liberal who thought he knew better than anyone else how to solve the world’s problems. Cal hadn’t thought that. He told him it was a great idea, said there ought to be more people like Brendan, asked him when and how he was going to get started on it.

  Brendan’s heart had led him astray before, attaching too quickly to guys like Thiago, believing they’d had something that never existed. Still, he couldn’t help feeling like the connection he had made with Cal was different, pure and true. He felt more like himself with Cal than with any guy he had met in his life.

  At the shop, Cal waved him behind the counter, and they shared the single chair while Brendan unpacked their sandwiches. Tucked up close, they fed each other and swiped tahini sauce from the corners of each other’s mouths. Brendan couldn’t help kissing Cal’s neck and lips and feeling the wondrous contours of his shoulders and his back, the tender, whiskered skin on the inside of his thighs. Thankfully, store customers were few and far between.

  A little later in the afternoon, Cal passed him a mischievous glance, stepped out from the counter, turned over the sign in the window, and locked the door to the shop. He led Brendan into a back room, which smelled like an attic and was filled with mismatched furniture in various states of disrepair.

  They shucked their clothes and devoured one another like prisoners on a conjugal visit. Feeling hopeful, Brendan had stowed the necessary accoutrements in his Bermuda shorts before leaving his apartment. They took turns plundering each other against a red velvet turn-of-the-century settee, while moaning out adoring oaths.

  Brendan suffered two nights apart from Cal, who needed to gently break the news about their relationship to Derek. After that, they arrived at an agreement—one night on and one night off from sleeping over at Brendan’s apartment. Happily, that plan soon fell apart.

  They’d tried, for Derek’s sake, to exert some restraint, but the pull between them had been too much. On their first night “off,” a Sunday—and after a string of text messages: “I miss you,” “I miss you too,” “I miss you more,” “I miss YOU more,” and so on—Brendan’s doorman called to announce a visitor at half past midnight. Cal materialized at Brendan’s door, his eyes bloodshot and swollen.

  Their need for each other was easy on Brendan. He had no obligations to family or friends that couldn’t wait a while, so he and Cal could be together as often as they liked. But he recognized it was hell for his boyfriend. He brought Cal over to the sofa in his living room. Cal only drank wine and beer, so Brendan fetched a bottle of Bordeaux and two long-stemmed wine glasses. He then sat to hear about Cal’s big fight with Derek.

  “All week, we talked about going to a concert at South Street Seaport. He knew we had to head out early to get good seats, and I just mention, lightly, we should get a move on, and he totally flips out on me. He said he’s tired of being my ‘backup plan,’ and he stormed out of the apartment. I know he’s hurt by us getting together, but he’s never been that cruel.”

  “I waited for him to come back to the apartment. I thought maybe he just needed some time to cool off, and when he got back, we’d talk things out. He never came home, and he won’t answer my texts. What was I supposed to do? Wait for him all night?”

  Cal took a long draw from his wine glass and set it down. “I know he feels betrayed. The summer was supposed to be our vacation, and he spent a lot of money so we could hang out together. But he won’t even let me apologize and try to explain. It’s like he wants me to choose either him or you, and he won’t be satisfied with anything else. How am I supposed to do that?”

  Cal broke down in tears. Brendan reached around his shoulders and held him. He didn’t judge Derek, and he didn’t pressure Cal one way or the other. That Cal cared so deeply about his friend made Brendan love him even more.

  He realized, though, something had to be done. After he made love to Cal that night, he brought up his previous suggestion about meeting Derek and trying to break the ice.

  Cal looked up from where he rested on Brendan’s chest. “He’s really angry. I don’t know if it’s a good idea right now. He told me he might go back to Syracuse since I ruined the summer for him.”

  Privately, Brendan wondered how good a friend Derek was. Punishing Cal because he’d found a boyfriend instead of being happy for him? That didn’t seem like something Cal needed to hear, however. He brushed the wavy hair on the crown of Cal’s head. “Maybe we should get together sooner rather than later then. So he sees he’s not left out.”

  “What if he’s mean to you?” Cal said.

  “I suppose he has every right to be,” Brendan said. “I’ve been taking you away from him.”

  Cal hugged him tighter. “I’m scared I’ll lose both of you.”

  Brendan kissed his forehead. “You’ll never lose me, Cal. And I can handle being the villain if that’s what Derek wants to believe. He probably just needs some time to get used to the situation.”

  Cal’s gaze snuck away from him, and he picked at the russet hairs on Brendan’s manscaped chest. “There’s something else that’s been bothering me. What’s going to happen at the end of summer? I’ll go back to Syracuse, and you’ll be here.”

  Brendan had been worried about the same thing. Maybe it was crazy to think so far ahead in the future, considering he and Cal had only known each other for five days. But the feeling was there, a dreadful pit in his stomach. What would he do without Cal? It would be like having one of his limbs ripped from his body.

  “Would you let me come up and visit?” he said. “Would you come down to stay with me sometimes?”

  “I’ve never had a long-distance relationship.” Cal’s knees tightened around Brendan’s thigh. “I want it to be like this every night.”

  “I want that too. This is where you belong. I found you, and I don’t want to let you go. Even for a night.”

  Cal traced the whorls of hair below Brendan’s abdomen. “The classical studies program has online classes. If I did that, I’d only have to be on campus a couple times during the semester.”

  Brendan’s face bloomed. “You’d do that?” A wave of self-recrimination hit him. “What about your friends and family back in Syracuse?”

  “Maybe it’s time for me to grow up. To make my own life.” Cal clasped his shoulders. “This feels so right to me. I wouldn’t be giving up my friends and family altogether. But this, you, are more important to me.”

  Brendan rolled on top of him and cradled Cal’s head. He looked down at Cal, his angel. So many emotions sang inside him—happiness and gratitude and even a weak, aching voice that said he didn’t deserve so much.

  Cal hugged his sides with his knees, beckoning him for another round. Brendan put on a condom and happily obliged. God, he could live inside Cal all night and day. Afterward, he would ask Cal to do the same to him. They were equal that way, which made their connection even deeper, not to mention making the sex even more spectacular.

  With Cal, he could be every part of himself. It was more than a sexual attraction. Brendan realized that had been the extent of things with Thiago, and really, as he thought about it, every other guy he’d dated. He’d been obsessed with guys, and it had felt like love at the time. But what he had with Cal was so much more.

  In his short-lived Buddhist phase a few years back, he had read in an old Tibetan text falling in love was really an experience of gaining self-knowledge rather than giving to or taking from another person. The Buddhists called love: coming home. It was realizing one’s capacity to love, which brought forth the possibility of loving oneself. That had all seemed strange and hokey at the time, but it was exactly how it felt being with Cal. He was home, a better man, worthy of being loved and admired, no longer afraid he would never be good enough to have a boyfriend, or anything else he wanted in life. Cal had unlocked a place in his heart that had been there all along.

  Chapter Five

  THEY MADE PLANS to go to Coney Island with Derek the following Monday when Cal’s shop was closed and Derek had the day off
from work. Brendan could have gotten a car and a driver to take them there, but out of respect for Cal and Derek’s friendship, he suggested they take the subway together as they’d planned, and he would meet them on the boardwalk.

  He took a company car with a driver as he always did though it made him self-conscious about flaunting his money. His grandmother had insisted on it ever since he’d been old enough to travel by himself. Desperate people kidnapped children from wealthy families. It was an ugly fact of life. He had the driver drop him off and wait in the parking lot of the Coney Island Aquarium. From there, he walked the short distance up the boardwalk to their meeting place.

  He wasn’t nervous about meeting Derek. In a strange way, he felt sympathetic toward him. He knew what it was to feel like a third wheel. When his pal from college, Betsy Schoonover, had gotten married, it had ended an era of meeting up on the spur of the moment for lunch and drinks, texting throughout the day, and being each other’s date to dinner parties and charity events. Even though they tried to stay in touch, spending time together with Betsy’s husband and two little kids around wasn’t the same. Change was inevitable, and Brendan knew it also hurt something wicked.

  Generalized anxiety gripped him, however, as he waited on the boardwalk, up the ramp from the subway station concourse. Vaguely ill at ease was his default setting, though he’d been much better since meeting Cal. As usual, he had somehow conspired against himself to arrive at their meeting place ahead of schedule, even though he hated waiting. He worried a little that the day would turn out with him feeling like the third wheel. Cal and Derek had been best friends for five years, after all.

  A herd of people trundled down the subway concourse toward the boardwalk. A train must have just gotten in. Through a dizzying scan of the approaching mob of beachgoers—all breeds of New Yorkers, from baby-carriage pushing parents to swaggering bros, to urban hipsters, aging hippies, chattering teenage girls, and every type in between—he finally spotted Cal. He shone like a diamond in his tank top and his thigh-length swim shorts and his bronze-tinted aviator sunglasses, which he’d picked out at a street fair with Brendan over the weekend.