by SM Johnson
I must have twitched, because he did look at my face then, as if he knew what I was thinking. “No, stay still. Stay just like that.”
His finger stoked between my cheeks, a place where no one, absolutely no one in my conscious memory, had ever touched. I felt a whimper build in my throat, a bubble of no-but-maybe-yes, and remembered him asking if I was gay. I wanted him to touch me there, but it was a dirty place, so my wanting it was, well, was there something wrong with me for wanting it? I imagined what gay men did to each other when I masturbated, of course I did, but I never in a million years thought I would be restrained to a bed for real, with a real person touching me this way. If I was sick and perverted, then Avery was, too. And I –
The whimper burst out, louder than I expected.
Avery moved up the bed until he was lying beside me. “Turn toward me. Don’t be afraid.”
I was afraid, I guess. I was shaking, at least. He was still stroking my cock with silky fingers. I turned to my side, pulling a little at the cuffs around my wrists, and Avery’s beautiful, amazing, stroking hand stopped, crawled up my body, and adjusted the pillow so it supported my neck. The hand that had been on my dick went into my hair, fingers twisting, tightening my hair against my scalp, and holding me still for his kiss.
His kiss.
He nibbled at my lips, then traced them with his tongue, then nibbled again, all of this until I was gasping for more. Another gentle nibble, and then a crashing of our mouths together, his tongue plundering the inside of my mouth, teasing circles, inhaling me until I was breathless. Somewhere in there his grip in my hair loosened, and his hand found its way to my dick again, but just for a second, before going lower, grazing my balls, and sliding between my ass cheeks.
There was a pushing pressure at my anus.
I gasped, broke the kiss. “Are w-we going to have s-s-sex?”
His laugh was throaty, but gentle. “Oh, Jules. We are having sex. We’ve been having sex for nearly two days now.”
I must have looked confused.
“I’m not going to fuck you. Not yet. It would hurt you.”
I was relieved. That part of scary wasn’t going to happen. And yet… and yet. That confusing mix of pleasure and pain still confounded me. Flash of the demon story, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and warm my face. I didn’t plan to say anything. I planned to just breathe, to just be, to try to relax. Words spilled out anyway. “I like the way you hurt me.”
I was looking right into his eyes, and I saw the flare of his pupils. And then he rolled so he was propped over me, so the arm he’d been lying on could reach to my face. He rested his fingers on my cheek. “I told you you’re good at this game.”
His finger entered me, just a tiny bit, and I jolted beneath him. Avery grinned at me with all of his teeth, and slid down my body again. He removed his finger, scooped more of the silky stuff out of the jar, and pressed his finger into me again. He was gentle and slow, but used a sort of insistent pressure that had me holding my breath as his finger went in deeper.
“It hurts,” I whimpered.
“Hurts like yellow?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
He eased his finger out.
I clenched my butt cheeks together, straightened my knees so my legs were flat on the bed. I could still feel his finger inside me, even though it wasn’t there anymore.
He was stroking my dick. It still felt amazing.
“Bend your knees.”
He moved himself until he was kneeling between my thighs. Now he stroked my dick with one hand, and cradled my balls with the other.
Tears spilled onto my cheeks. I didn’t know even know why I was crying.
I wasn’t hard anymore.
He moved yet again, jostling the bed as he put himself beside me, reached over my head to release my hands. Then he pulled the sheet up, tucking it around me.
He wiped my tears away with his thumb. “It’s all right, Jules.”
“No, no, it isn’t.” I was crying now for real, not from pain, but from him, his careful touch, his willingness to slow down, ease off.
“It’s not okay,” I sobbed. “I ruined it. It was nice and sexy, and you, you’re p-p-perfect. And I’m just ridiculous.”
“Shh,” he said, cradling all of me now, moving his body, rocking me. “You are not ridiculous.”
“Of course I am. You even said so.”
He stopped rocking me. “When did I say that?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Shit. Shit. Shit. I did not mean to say that. I didn’t want to tell him he sent me that file.
“Jules. Look at me.”
I didn’t want to look at him, but there was that tone in his voice. The one that was hard to disobey. I peeked.
He looked shocked and pale. “When did I say that?”
I sighed. Closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at him when I confessed. “There was a file attached to the last email.”
He groaned.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have read it. I mean I should have stopped reading it when I realized it wasn’t meant for me to see.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry, Jules. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t remember all of it, but the reason I even wrote it was because I liked you. There are few people I genuinely like, so it was uncomfortable. Writing is how I make sense of things. I swear I wasn’t being a jerk.”
“But now I ruined this, too.”
“You didn’t. You didn’t. I promise you, I don’t want you any less. If anything, I want you more. I was going too fast for you, and you didn’t know what to expect. Nothing is ruined, I just know more for next time.”
Flash of all those teeth.
“I want to touch you until you come. Watch you.”
Well. My dick reacted to that.
My arms were bent to my chest, trapped between us. Not accidentally, I didn’t think. “Can I touch you? Just a little?”
Avery bent his head and nipped my shoulder with his teeth. “Fine. Just a little.”
I wriggled so I had room to move my arms, wrestle them free of the sheet. I touched his hair, scratched his scalp with my newly grown fingernails, traced a trail from the back of his head to the back of his neck. He arched away, just a little, enough for my hands to slide to his shoulders. I smoothed my fingers along the arm that was in my reach, and when he seemed like he was flinching away, lifted my hand and rested it again on his shoulder. “Your skin is soft. I like it.”
I touched his face. Traced his lips, brushed my thumbs across his cheeks. “Did someone hurt you?” I surprised myself, asking that, without rehearsing, without worrying.
The muscles of his face moved beneath my fingers when he smiled. “No, nothing that dramatic. Can I make you come now, Jules?”
I nodded, and just that fast was on my back, both my wrists held in one of his hands, the sheet wrenched away, exposing my skin to the air. I shivered. Shivered again as his free hand travelled down my body. Nearly convulsed when his hand wrapped around my dick. It wasn’t the same, silky feeling as before, because the lotion or cream or whatever had soaked in or been wiped away by the sheet. But still, his grip on me was just as electrifying, maybe more so. He watched my face as he touched me, and I wanted to close my eyes to hide how vulnerable I suddenly felt.
“Don’t close your eyes. I want to watch you.”
God, he was dirty. The way he was touching me, talking to me, it wouldn’t take more than a minute.
It was much longer than a minute.
I writhed in his grasp as if trying to escape, my hips bucking my cock into his hand. I made more of those noises, and every time I closed my eyes, he ordered me to open them. A part of me died of embarrassment, for him to see me like this, so helplessly drowning in pleasure that I couldn’t be still, couldn’t contain my voice. He held me at the edge of orgasm for what seemed like a long time, changing the way he touched me, sometimes clenching me too hard. Once he distracted me with a quick mean pinch to my inner thi
gh, a pain so bright and shocking that I cried out in protest. All of my muscles were tired from being too tense for too long, and I thought he might exhaust me and not let me finish at all. I started pleading. “Please, Avery, please.” I repeated myself several times, and it was like I couldn’t stop saying the words. All my body and all my head just kept pleading, “Please, Avery, please.”
“Mmm. I like that. All you have to do, Jules, is look me in the eye and ask me for what you want.”
I was looking him in the eye. I was begging him.
“Words, Jules. When you find the right words, I’ll let you come.”
“Please, Avery, please. Let me come.”
“Is that asking nicely?” His smile was quick, mischievous.
He wanted words. The right combination of words. I didn’t know them, but he wanted me to ask for something. For permission?
I was panting, nearly hyperventilating. So keyed up and taut that I knew, just knew, that the right move from his hand would send me over. My body was straining right on the edge, waiting for him to release me.
“Avery.” I stared into his intense blue eyes.
He stared back “Yes, Jules?”
“Sir, please, may I come?”
“Why yes, Jules, you may.”
His hand slid up the length of my cock, a gentle glide, and his fingers did something, oh God, something so perfect, and although I kept my eyes locked to his, I still saw the upward curve of his lips when my cock erupted.
chapter thirteen
gently push distracting thoughts away
The play was somewhat like going to see a movie in a theater. People were more dressed up, and the atmosphere had a formality I had never been acquainted with, but overall it was a lot like sitting in the dark watching a show. Fortunately, some of the clothes Avery convinced me to buy were appropriate for this setting. I wore black dress pants, a pleasantly soft gray button down shirt, and a faux leather jacket that looked brand new. Avery gallantly handled every bit of the social aspect of things, and I just let myself be quiet. There wasn’t much to worry about socially, anyway. Just handing over tickets, taking programs, and finding our seats, which were very close to the stage. Avery was a pro at this stuff. We’d napped and showered and were running late, the lights dimming as we slid into our seats. I had the aisle seat, and Avery greeted the person he sat next to.
I couldn’t see who it was, and found myself worrying. Would I have to talk to that person at some point, and was it a good friend of Avery’s? Was it a boyfriend of Avery’s? Had they met here for a date, and I was an unfortunate drag-along?
Avery’s hand found mine in the dark, and squeezed.
I deliberately pushed my thoughts and worries away and attended to the feeling of his hand holding mine. It was nice. It made me feel connected to him. He moved his hand and laced our fingers together, and that was even nicer. I could feel his fingers in the spaces between my fingers. It made that funny feeling happen in my belly again. The one I liked.
There was music, and then the play started.
It was maybe five minutes before Avery leaned his head close to mine and said, “There she is.”
From that moment on, my eyes were riveted to the stage. She moved like Avery. She even seemed to look like him, at least from where I sat.
After an hour or so, the stage cleared and the lights came on. “Intermission,” Avery said, and I noticed the person sitting next to him was Evan.
“Isn’t she great?” Evan was saying to Avery. “After this, the sky’s the limit, right? We’re hoping her agent will get her an audition for Broadway soon. She’s certainly proven she can handle a rigorous rehearsal schedule. Oh, hey, Julian. What did you think?”
“I think – ” I was going to say ‘I think she looks like Avery’, but realized that wasn’t what he was asking, so I stopped myself. “She’s great!” I said instead, and Evan beamed.
Avery was encouraging me to stand. “Let’s get a drink,” he said, moving past me, and pulling me behind him.
A new voice said, “Avery. Aren’t you going to even say hello? And who is this darling person with you?”
“Foiled again,” Avery whispered to me, then turned toward the voice. “Mum. Hello. This is my new friend, Julian. Julian, this is my mother, Vivian.”
Oh my God. It was his mother. I tried to hide behind him, mortified. He hadn’t mentioned his mother would be here. I had no idea what to do.
“Hello, Julian. It’s nice to meet you.”
I peeked out from behind Avery, and nodded at her, too nervous to speak. She looked nice enough, very fashionable, very elegant.
Before I had to worry about saying anything, Avery was dragging me up the aisle.
“I apologize for not warning you,” he said. “I didn’t want to give you a reason to refuse to accompany me.”
“She seems nice?” I said, cautiously. “Your mother, I mean.”
“Yes, yes, of course she’s nice. I would have called her and told her not to be too nosy about you. But we were sort of busy this afternoon.”
My butt cheeks clenched. I swore I could still feel his finger there.
“She’s okay with you being gay?”
His laugh was almost a choke. “Yes, although I’ve put her through plenty. She won’t embarrass you about that. Don’t feel like you have to make conversation with her. We’ll watch the rest of the play, tell Livvie she was wonderful, and then we’ll get out of here.”
There was a bar in the lobby, and Avery got two bottles of water. Across from the bar was a flower vendor, and he paused there to buy a wrapped bundle of roses. “For Livvie,” explained. Then it was time to go back to our seats.
His sister really was a terrific actress as far as I could tell. Not that I knew any actresses, but her character seemed real, and it was every bit as absorbing as a film, that’s for sure. I even forgot for a while about Avery’s mother sitting on the other side of Evan. And once, but just once, Avery pulled my hand away from my mouth. He wound his fingers with mine again and gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
When the play ended, there was a ceremony in which the actors took their bows, and Avery threw the flowers at Livvie’s feet. She flashed him a cheeky grin, then took another sweeping bow and scooped up the flowers before blowing him a kiss.
A great number of people milled about the lobby area afterward, wanting to speak to and congratulate the cast. I saw Livvie approaching us, but Avery didn’t. She held a finger to her lips, and snuck up behind him, then grabbed him around the waist, squealing, “Ave!”
He turned in her embrace and kissed her cheek. “Livvie. What an amazing show.”
“Really? Did you really, really like it?”
“I did. You are amazing. And beautiful. And talented.”
She looked at me then, winked, and said, “Is this your boyfriend? Where have you been hiding him? And why? He’s adorable!”
I felt myself turning red. She was so energetic. And she looked exactly like a feminine version of Avery. Except… was she taller? I peeked at her feet, to see if she was wearing high heels, but no, she was wearing some kind of fancy low-heeled slip-ons. She was still talking. “You lucky thing, you, to get hold of my twin. Isn’t he gorgeous?”
“T-t-twin?” I asked, looking back and forth between them.
Avery bobbed his head, smiling. “Yes, Olivia is my twin. Although we hardly look alike.” He rolled his eyes.
They had the same nose, the same eyes, the same lips. The same perfect, straight teeth. They stood next to each other in the same stance.
Avery whispered something in her ear, and said out loud, “Livvie, this is Julian.”
She grabbed me by the shoulders, and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I’m so happy to meet you! Avery’s never brought a date to one of my plays.”
Some gesture from Avery made her stop talking, and then I saw their mother and Evan approaching.
“There you are,” Avery’s mother said, as Evan came to Livvie’s side
and wound an arm around her. “Wonderful performance, Olivia. You’ve outdone yourself.” She greeted us with a nod of acknowledgment. “Julian. Avery.” There was an emphasis to the way she said Avery’s name, like she was making a point about something.
“We were just teasing Julian about how we don’t look at all alike,” Livvie said to their mother. “Mr. Secretive over there didn’t mention he had a twin sister. Poor Julian is just getting over his surprise.”
Their mother smiled at me. “It’s remarkable, isn’t it? Not unusual for identical twins, of course, but still. They’ve fascinated me since they were born.”
There was a nagging sort of something in my brain about twins –
“So. Julian. How long have you known Avery?” The question came from Vivian, Avery’s mother. Avery’s mother was asking me a question. I went into full panic mode, trying to think of an answer. “Ah. W-w-well…”
“Awhile, Mum,” Avery cut in. “He’s been a reader for Phoenix & Phoenix for how long, Jules? Six months?”
I nodded, thankful that he’d rescued me again.
They exchanged small talk for what felt like forever, but was probably just a few minutes. Which nights the play would run, how long Stephanie would be out of town, and so on. I stood there, uncomfortable, but didn’t know what to do about it. I finally settled on the simplest anti-anxiety exercise ever – paying attention to my breathing. In and out. Feel the inhale, note the feeling in my throat, in my chest. Feel the exhale. Note the feeling in my throat and in my chest. When my attention tried to wander, I gently brought my focus back to my breath. In and out.
I vaguely heard my name, and then Avery jostled me. I clicked my attention back to him. “Time to go, Jules,” he said.
We had a few blocks to walk to the subway station, and Avery explained the difference between a Broadway show and an off-Broadway one, something about bigger budgets and longer runs, but I was thinking about what it would be like to have a twin and not really paying attention. “Jules? Everything okay?” he asked, finally.