Fragile Ground

by Louisa Keller

  “Can we just order in?” Olivier asks, his voice inching toward a whine.

  Auriel laughs. “I’ve never met anyone as reluctant to get out of bed as you.”

  “Only when you’re in the bed with me,” Olivier points out.

  “You don’t want me to make you waffles?” Auriel asks.

  “I want that app that delivers food to make me waffles. And I want you to stay put.” One of the most interesting things about fast forwarding through a couple of years of his life has been discovering technological and social advances. It seems like everyone is obsessed with paying strangers through apps to bring them food, drive them places, even walk their dogs. Olivier has been hastily running up his credit card balance ever since he discovered that he can have Indian food delivered to his front door in less than half an hour regardless of the time of day.

  Auriel sighs and lays back down. “Fine. But I’m serious about waffles, I don’t care if it’s 2 pm.”

  “With maple syrup?” Olivier asks, already keying the passcode into his phone.

  “And that whipped butter stuff,” Auriel adds.

  They spend the day lazing around, curled up together, bingeing TV shows on Olivier’s laptop. In the evening Auriel coaxes Olivier out into the backyard.

  “Hold this,” Auriel says, pushing a fluffy quilt into Olivier’s arms.

  “Aye aye,” says Olivier, letting a corner drag on the ground as he takes the quilt into the middle of the yard. At Auriel’s instruction he spreads it out neatly, and then sits on it. “What are we doing?” Olivier asks.

  “We are having a picnic,” Auriel announces. He’s juggling random cartons and Tupperware containers, and as Olivier watches, a can of whipped cream topples out of Auriel’s arms. It lands with a dull thwack on Olivier’s hand, and he shoots Auriel an unimpressed look.

  “I hope the rest of this picnic isn’t so perilous.”

  Auriel pulls a face and begins to unload the food onto the blanket. “Hang in there, it’ll be worth the risk.” When his hands are empty he reaches for Olivier’s hand and inspects it. “I think you’ll make it through the night,” he says, placing a quick kiss across the knuckles.

  Olivier can’t help the smile that blooms across his face. “So, what’s on the menu?”

  “Let’s see,” muses Auriel. “I have the finest local raspberries which pair nicely with the hostile whipped cream.” Olivier laughs. “And then there’s a baguette, some chèvre, cherry tomatoes from the garden…which reminds me, you can pick some basil if you want. It’s just over there,” he gestures at an herb garden that is threatening to spill out of its planter.

  “Tell me there’s meat here somewhere,” Olivier says.

  Auriel arches an eyebrow. “I think there’s some of Hattie’s bologna back inside, I can grab it if you want.”

  Olivier shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll eat your hippie garden picnic as is.” He pats the blanket next to him. “Take a load off.”

  The sun is beginning to set, and streaks of carnation pink and deep ruby shoot across the golden sky.

  “This is really nice,” Olivier says, inching his hand closer to Auriel’s. Despite the fact that they’ve been more or less constantly touching each other for days, Olivier’s stomach still swoops when he reaches out to take Auriel’s hand. Maybe it’s just that the novelty hasn’t worn off, or that Auriel looks so damn beautiful in the crimson light of the setting sun. Regardless, Olivier can’t take his eyes off of him, and when Auriel turns to meet his gaze, Olivier leans in for a lingering kiss.

  When they withdraw, it is with reluctance. “I wish we could do this forever,” Auriel murmurs.

  “What, make out by the garden?” asks Olivier.

  Auriel sighs deeply. “Just…be in this moment, I guess. Relive this day again and again.”

  “Would we have to watch the same shows? Because that would get pretty boring after a while bro.”

  “Bro?” Auriel sounds incredulous.

  “Yeah?” asks Olivier.

  “I lick your asshole, don’t call me bro.”

  “I touch your junk, I’ll call you whatever I want,” replies Olivier, reaching for the baguette.

  By the time the food is gone they’re lying down, gazing up at the sky as it darkens to lavender, then to charcoal, and finally to an inky black. Stars appear one by one, as if the sky is being punctured with a tiny needle again and again.

  “Do you know any constellations?” Olivier asks. His arm is slung around Auriel, fingers toying with Auriel’s soft hair as they admire the galaxy laid out before them.

  “A few.” He reaches up to point out three bright stars. “Orion is my favorite. That’s his belt there, see it?”

  “Mhm.”

  “And there’s his sword, down to the side.” He traces the invisible line with his finger.

  “Why is that one your favorite?” Olivier asks.

  Auriel makes a quiet, happy humming noise. “It was the first constellation I ever learned to identify. I mean, I knew about the big dipper, but Orion seemed to leap out at me whenever I looked up at night, you know? My parents have this big backyard, and as a kid I used to play out there all day long in the summer. My brothers and I would have to come in for dinner, but after we did the dishes we could go back out for a bit before it was time to get ready for bed. When they called us in, we were almost always across the yard from the house, playing in this little grove of trees.”

  “Did Orion guide you home?” Olivier teases.

  “You know, in a way he kind of did. The thing that I loved most about Orion was the way he moved across the sky over the course of the summer. He started off on one side of the yard in June, and by the end of August he was on the other side. Throughout the years I started gauging how much summer was left by where he sat on any given night.” Auriel’s smile is gentle, nostalgic.

  Olivier closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. The night smells like freshly turned earth, and grass clippings, and basil leaves torn from a stalk. Then there’s the smell of Auriel himself, warm and welcoming and homey. Olivier leans in to nuzzle the base of Auriel’s throat, breathing him in and sighing with satisfaction.

  “Thank you for telling me about your childhood, even though you’ve probably done it before.”

  Auriel moves then, swinging one leg over Olivier’s lap so that Auriel is straddling him. Auriel leans down and kisses along Olivier’s jaw. “It’s my pleasure,” he whispers against the stubble growing there.

  “You have been so patient with me, in so many ways,” Olivier mutters.

  “I could say the same thing about you,” Auriel says, pulling the neck of Olivier’s t-shirt aside and pressing a kiss against his collarbone.

  Olivier smirks. “It hasn’t exactly been a hardship,” he says, gasping as Auriel reaches down to palm Olivier through his jeans.

  “Oh I don’t know,” says Auriel. “It seems like it might be kind of hard.”

  Olivier loops an arm around Auriel’s neck, pulling him closer. “And whose fault is that?” He thrusts upward, punctuating his sentence and effectively silencing Auriel. “I don’t mind being patient,” Olivier confesses.

  Auriel slides one of his thighs between both of Olivier’s and grinds down, settling into a rhythm.

  “You’ve made it pretty easy,” Olivier continues, panting slightly. “What with the handjobs…and the blowjobs…and the rim—”

  Auriel cuts him off with a kiss, simultaneously unbuttoning Olivier’s jeans and slipping his hand inside.

  “Oh God, fuck me,” Olivier whines.

  Their eyes meet, electricity crackling between them, and Olivier is struck with an absolute need to know Auriel in every sense of the word.

  “Please?”

  Auriel’s gaze is piercing as he considers Olivier’s request. “We’ll have to go inside,” he finally says.

  “That’s…yeah, we can make that work,” Olivier whispers, inadvertently thrusting their cocks together in his haste to sit up. “Fuck.”<
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  They hurry into the house, the remnants of their picnic forgotten as they make their way into the bedroom. Auriel pulls off his shirt, shucks his jeans, strips down efficiently and without making a show of it. It’s a maneuver born of intense intimacy with his partner, and Olivier is practically glowing as he scrambles to follow Auriel’s lead.

  “I’ve thought about this so much,” Auriel says, opening the bedside drawer and pulling out a half-empty bottle of lube.

  “You and me both,” says Olivier. He climbs onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows and folding his hand behind his head casually. “Care to join me?”

  Auriel smiles, parting Olivier’s legs gently and situating himself between them. “Don’t mind if I do.” He runs his hands up and down Olivier’s thighs, letting his fingers get closer and closer to Olivier’s hard cock with each pass. It is an exquisite kind of torture, wondering each time if Auriel’s going to finally give him what he wants.

  Olivier leans into the touch, trying to guide Auriel’s hands where he wants them without making it obvious that that’s what he is doing. When that doesn’t work, he lets out a frustrated sigh and says, “are planning on touching me anytime soon?”

  Auriel’s smiles turns into a Cheshire Cat grin, and he bypasses Olivier’s cock completely, electing instead to smack him playfully on the flank. “Turn over,” he commands.

  The words go straight to Olivier’s pulsing cock. He scrambles to obey, and ends up on his stomach with his legs spread wide, bent at the knees. He hears the telltale snick of the lube being opened, and then there are thick fingers sliding over his perineum. Olivier keens, his desperation reignited by the contact, and he thrusts back against Auriel’s hand. Auriel relents and begins circling Olivier’s hole with one slick finger. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he says, his voice quiet and reverent.

  “Jesus God, I was ready outside, get in me already,” Olivier snaps.

  The first finger slides in smoothly, a blunt pressure that does nothing to quell Olivier’s desire for more. He allows Auriel to control the pace for a few moments, but by the time a second finger is sliding in beside the first, Olivier has pushed up onto his hands and knees, using the leverage to grind back against Auriel. Following Olivier’s lead, Auriel begins crooking his fingers on each thrust.

  “Oh fuck, right there, shit—” Auriel zeroes in on Olivier’s prostate, positively milking it. He slips in a third finger, twisting his wrist slightly and coaxing increasingly desperate noises out of Olivier. After a few minutes of this, Olivier feels an unspeakably lovely sensation building just behind his naval, and suddenly he finds himself gasping out, “I’m gonna come, baby you gotta stop.”

  Auriel stills his fingers, but leaves them inside of Olivier. “Are you loose enough?” he asks.

  Olivier lets out a groan. “I’m ready, fuck.”

  Slowly, achingly slowly, Auriel withdraws his fingers. They leave behind an aching, hallow sensation that Olivier finds disturbingly emotional for some reason. He instantly wants those fingers back, to be filled once again by the man he loves. And as the thought darts through his mind, he takes a second to marvel at it: the man I love. It seems a waste to sit with this thought, to hold it in. And so Olivier turns back over onto his back and watches Auriel stroking his own cock, smoothing lube down the length of it.

  “I love you,” Olivier says, but it comes out barely more than a whisper.

  Auriel’s eyes to snap to his, wide and pleased. “I love you too,” he murmurs, and then he’s moving to line himself up, the head of his cock pressing against Olivier’s hole.

  Olivier’s heart is pounding and he can hear blood rushing in his ears. He wants this so badly, wants to give himself over to it completely. But just as Auriel begins to push in, Olivier reaches down to stop him.

  “Everything okay?” Auriel asks, concern coloring his features.

  “Yeah, I just…you forgot a condom.”

  They stare at each other, and then Auriel throws his head back and starts laughing. “Oh god, I didn’t even think about…we’ve been exclusive for a long time. We both got tested early on and we haven’t used condoms since then. But I’m sure Hattie would lend us one if it would make you feel more comfortable.”

  Olivier feels a thrill go through him. He has done a lot of pleasurable things in bed, but the idea of getting fucked bare has never even occurred to him. It’s always been an issue of safety, off the table because he never bothered to commit to one person, and he has always been fine with it. But now he has a gorgeous man offering him the kind of intimate, messy sex that Olivier has never dared to want. And suddenly, he wants it more than anything.

  “We can do it like this,” Olivier says, his voice shaking slightly with anticipation.

  “Yeah?” asks Auriel.

  “Fuck yeah,” says Olivier. He reaches to pull Auriel’s face to his and they fall back onto the bed, Olivier on his back and Auriel atop him, kissing passionately. Auriel pushes into Olivier, slow and steady all the way to the hilt. Olivier can feel his muscles clenching and unclenching, adjusting to Auriel. It feels like his nerve endings are singing.

  “Let me know—”

  “I’m good. Come on,” pants Olivier, reaching to grab Auriel’s ass and guiding him into a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts. Olivier’s cock is pressed between their stomachs, and even though he can’t see it, Olivier knows that it is flushed and leaking. Auriel reaches down to wrap his hand firmly around it, running his thumb over the slit and gathering the precum he finds there.

  “God, you’re so responsive,” Auriel moans.

  Olivier grins. “Just for you baby,” he says, breaking into a groan as Auriel’s cock skates across his prostate. “Don’t stop, please…”

  “Are you…?”

  “Close, yeah,” breathes Olivier. His head is thrown back, his back arching, and he can feel his orgasm barreling toward him. He hitches his legs up around Auriel’s hips, his toes curling with pleasure, and as the wave crests he whimpers Auriel’s name again and again, a benediction rolling off his tongue.

  Auriel is right behind him, leaning forward to press sloppy kisses against the long, pale column of Olivier’s neck as he empties himself inside of him.

  They lay there for a while, catching their breath and savoring the warmth of one another’s bodies. Olivier feels like he could float right off the bed, residual pleasure buoying his limbs and torso. He lets out a little grumble of complaint when Auriel slips out of him, a warm gush of cum following in Auriel’s wake.

  “Messy,” Olivier mumbles as he reaches down to feel his swollen, slick entrance.

  “I’ll clean you up babe. Just give me a minute to get sensation back in my legs.” Auriel flops over onto his back beside Olivier and grins lazily at him.

  “I meant what I said,” Olivier offers, admiring the deep kaleidoscopes of Auriel’s eyes.

  “Which bit?” Auriel asks, his smile going soft.

  “The bit about loving you. It wasn’t just the sex talking, I really do love you.”

  Auriel kisses Olivier sweetly before getting up and walking into the bathroom. He returns with a warm, damp washcloth and begins wiping down Olivier’s stomach. Once Auriel is satisfied that Olivier’s torso is clean, he dips the cloth between Olivier’s legs, gently cleaning away the mess there. Then he tosses the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and wraps his arms around Olivier, pulling him close.

  “I never stopped loving you,” Auriel tells him.

  Olivier nods. “I know. I forgot how to love you for a while. But I’m here now, and I’m in it for the long run.”

  “The long run, huh?”

  “Oh yeah. I figure you probably are too.”

  Auriel laughs. “What gave me away?”

  “Well,” says Olivier, “my first hint was the whole helping me recover from a head injury when I had no idea who you were thing.”

  Auriel nods. “That was a pretty solid clue.”

  “Then,” continues Olivier, “th
ere was the giving me space when I needed it even though it hurt you thing.”

  “I was really showing my hand there.”

  Olivier kisses Auriel softly and adds, “the big one, though, was the fact that you took me back when I was finally ready to love you. Even though it might have been in your best interest to turn me down.”

  Auriel thinks about that for a moment. “It wouldn’t have been in my best interest to turn you down.”

  “But I hurt you. You had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t hurt you again,” argues Olivier.

  “You didn’t hurt me out of spite. You lost your memory, Olivier, and you were trying to make things easier for both of us.” Auriel holds up a hand to stop Olivier’s protest. “Part of loving someone is realizing that they might inadvertently hurt you, and letting them in anyway. You just have to decide if they’re worth it, and for me there’s no question.”

  Olivier swallows thickly. He can feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, and he blinks hastily, willing them away. “I see a future with you, you know. Even though I can’t see our past.”

  Auriel smiles down at Olivier and squeezes him tight. “I’ll keep helping you piece together the shards of the past as long as you’ll keep helping me build our future.”

  Epilogue

  Auriel

  One Year Later

  Olivier is curled up in their bed like a cat, the comforter tucked around him and a pillow hugged tightly to his chest. Auriel watches him for a moment, a fond smile on his face, admiring the way the lamplight falls across Olivier’s face. The golden glow catches in his eyelashes and fans out across his cheekbones, rendering Auriel speechless. Even after all this time together, just the sight of Olivier takes Auriel’s breath away. Olivier stirs slightly in his sleep, muttering something incomprehensible, before pushing his face into the pillow and falling silent.

  Auriel reaches out an gently shakes Olivier’s shoulder. “Olivier…Olivier, wake up.”

  “Hmm?” Olivier turns toward Auriel, his eyes slipping open. He blinks slowly.