When Everything Is Blue

by Laura Lascarso

  Chris seems pretty serious about me getting a sponsorship, and despite his personal feelings toward Vincent, he agrees that hosting the Dirty South tour is my ticket to more exposure. Chris prattles on, and I get the sense he’s nervous too, like he doesn’t know how to begin this part—the big build-up. We’re probably both overthinking it.

  At a lull in the conversation, I reach over and nest my fingers in the back of his hair, scooting closer at the same time, so that when he turns, my mouth is there to receive him. Chris grabs my shirt and pulls me to him, starting out slow and letting it build. We’re the only ones camping out here tonight, so there’s no need to rush. No parents or housekeepers within a hundred-mile radius.

  We make out by the fire on one of Chris’s old comforters, taking breaks to add more wood, then coming together again. I can tell by the way he nips and paws at me that he’s growing impatient. “Let’s go inside,” he says in a lustful, throaty voice. He goes over to the tent, fumbles with the zipper, holds the flap open, and shutters it behind us.

  Inside the tent it’s a little darker, lit only by the faint glow of the fire. We shed our clothes and roll around on the sleeping bags like puppies, groping each other with more urgency, wrestling like we used to, only with a different goal in mind. The air is sticky sweet with the smell of our sweat and desire. My erection is uncomfortably hard, leaky, and tender. Every time he brushes up against it, a thrill races through me that makes me shudder. When he leaves one area of my body for another, that part of me gets jealous and wants him back. Chris pins me on my back and grabs my cock firmly in one hand. I like the way it looks in his fist: fat, flush, and at the ready.

  “Bend your knees,” he says, and when I do, he touches my hole with his finger, tapping lightly, then pressing harder with his knuckle. “How’s this?”

  “Feels good.”

  He edges one finger inside me, and I squirm a little because it’s a sensation unlike any other. I take a deep breath and marvel, Chris is inside me.

  And then he isn’t. I open my eyes to find him sitting back on his heels. He watches me with a hungry look in his eyes, but he makes zero moves toward me.

  “I know that face,” I tell him, sitting up. “Talk to me.”

  “Maybe we should wait.” He licks his lips, and I lean in and place a gentle kiss on his mouth.

  “For what?”

  He rubs my shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  His concern is touching but unnecessary. “I’m a big boy, Chris. I can handle it.”

  “Maybe you should do me. I think I could take it better.”

  For some reason this rubs me the wrong way. “Really? Between the two of us, you think you can handle pain better?”

  “This isn’t a competition, T.” He draws his hands through his hair, upset about it.

  Everything is a competition with Chris, even when it isn’t. “Well, I might inflict more pain, based on diameter and depth.”

  His mouth drops open. “Are you telling me in a really geeky way that my dick is small?”

  I chuckle. “No, I’m telling you in a really geeky way your asshole is small.” His brow furrows and he looks past me, so I try again. “Listen, I want to experience this with you. If you want to wait, that’s fine. But I don’t want the reason to be because you don’t want to hurt me. I can take it. I want to take it.”

  I expect Chris to laugh at that, but he doesn’t. Just sits there, stiff and unmoving, with a blank look on his face. I scoot around so I can kneel behind him and rub his shoulders, thinking how lucky I am to be touching him, to have the freedom to explore. My palms glide over his smooth skin, warm to the touch. The pads of my thumbs knead into his tense muscles while my mouth trails along his shoulder and up the slope of his delicious neck. His hair brushes along the ridge of my nose and tickles my nostrils.

  “This is enough for me,” I tell him, sorry for pressuring him at all.

  I lean my cheek against his back, then reach around to comb through his chest hair, fondling his perky nipples with the tips of my fingers, then scaling down his muscular abs. I kiss the space between his shoulder blades and rub my nose against his skin, inhaling his scent. I try to angle my junk so I won’t poke him in the back, but I really can’t help it. He has that effect on me.

  Chris grabs hold of my wrist and fills my palm with his thick cock. I stroke him lovingly. I want to make him feel better than he’s ever felt before, to be the one to give him this feeling, with all my love and devotion.

  “Whatever you want,” I whisper into his ear. He moans and rocks back into me, then rises up to his knees. I drape myself on top of him, kissing the ridges of his spine until I reach his tailbone. He leans back into my lap, so I spread his asscheeks and let my cock flop against his crack, gliding slowly up and down, getting heated and antsy from the friction.

  “Try me, Theo,” he whispers. My stomach drops and my senses sharpen. I pause for a moment to make sure I heard him correctly.

  “You sure?” I ask.

  “Yeah, you go first.”

  I’m no longer in the mood to argue. My body only wants to keep on going. I finger his hole, poking gently with my fingertip, teasing, and testing to see how much pressure his muscle will allow before yielding. I just barely breach his hole and his muscle throbs against my fingertip.

  “That’s good,” Chris says and stretches his arms forward to rest back on his heels. I love seeing him bow before me. Smooth skin and hard muscle curled in submission, giving me control.

  “Do you like it?” I feel really unprepared for this part. I should have practiced on myself beforehand.

  Chris hums in response, and I warm some lube on my fingertips and try again, going a little deeper this time. My other hand is splayed across his lower back, holding him steady while my finger penetrates him. I experiment, moving it slowly in and out, twisting a little, curling it. Chris rises to his knees and mutters “More, Theo,” in a raspy voice. I add another finger, leaning on his back for leverage. We move like that for a while, sweating and growing increasingly agitated, but knowing we have to go slowly. My cock weeps and throbs for him, but I have to focus on Chris’s needs.

  “Let’s do this,” he says in a deep, ragged voice.

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, go for it.”

  I remove my fingers and prep myself with shaking hands, position myself at his entrance. Shit, shit, shit rattles through my brain like a runaway train as I nudge him with the barest amount of pressure, and he opens up like a morning glory. Chris rocks back into me, forcefully, perhaps thinking that will make it easier, then freezes. His whole body tenses as he tightens up around me. I freeze, afraid to move or even breathe and risk making it worse.

  “Do you want me to take it out?” I ask him.

  “No, just give me a minute.”

  He takes a few deep breaths, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable, maybe even in pain. I know it’s supposed to hurt, but I hope it’s not too bad. I draw my hands down his rippling muscles and rub my thumbs over his tailbone to help him relax. He repositions himself, then drops back down with a grunt.

  “Tell me what to do,” I say to him.

  “You’re good. Just… stand by.”

  I brace myself against the ground with my knees while Chris rocks slowly back and forth, determining the depth and pressure. My body hums like a live wire, but my worry for him is more present in my mind. My gaze is drawn to the point where we’re joined, still amazed that this is even happening. Awestruck.

  “Take over,” Chris says. I add more lube and grab hold of his hips. He grunts as I ease in deeper. I’ve never felt this close to a person before in my entire life, connected so deeply on so many levels. All I want is for him to feel good, cherished, and special.

  “I love you,” I whisper. He nods, back heaving with every breath. “Does it hurt?” I’m afraid of his answer.

  “Yeah, but it’s okay. I can handle it.”

  I’m nearly to the base now, and Chris groans
so deeply, I feel the vibration in my balls.

  “That’s the spot, Theo. Keep doing that.”

  I angle in so that I’m hitting whatever feels so good to him. To me it’s all good—every nerve ending being massaged in all the right ways. Pleasure cascading through me with every thrust. We hit the right beat—breathing, rocking, and grunting as one, unraveling together. Chris grabs hold of himself, jerking his fist along his shaft while I drive into him. My eyes roll back into my head, pleasure ballooning inside me like hot, spitting lava. I’m relieved when I hear Chris cry out that he’s coming, because I can’t hold out much longer.

  Stars explode behind my eyes, and I flood the condom with my release while the last delicious tremor dances through me. I lean over and pant on his slick, strong back.

  “Don’t move,” I tell him and gingerly pull out.

  We collapse in a heap on our sleeping bags, bunched up and in disarray, sweating and breathless. Chris holds on to me like he doesn’t want to let go, and the words fall from my lips between kisses.

  “Thank you… for everything. I just….” My eyes get a little misty and my breath hitches, overwhelmed by it all. “I couldn’t have done it… like that… with anyone else… I can’t believe you let me.”

  He grips the back of my head and draws me to his chest so I can hear his rollicking heartbeat. “I love you too, Theo. I think I always have. Since that first day. The only way I could be happy was if you were happy too.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Let’s just say, you’re getting the wet spot tonight.”

  I know why he did this, because he’s always tried to protect me, even when I didn’t think I needed it. It’s what Chris does. He rolls over and scoots his ass against me so we’re spooning. My mouth finds his shoulder and I rest it there, on his archipelago of freckles, soaking up his smell, the feel of him, the way his body fits against mine so comfortably. The sense of being whole in a way I only can with him.

  We drift off for a while, curled in each other’s arms. I’m breathing in his exhales, and then Chris is kissing me back from the brink of slumber, his mouth traveling down my chest while he massages my inner thighs with both hands, stirring me awake in more ways than one. He massages my balls and strokes my cock with amazing dexterity, making me twitch and moan and grip the fabric of the sleeping bags with both hands. I’m wide-awake now, strung out on sensation and eager for what comes next.

  “Can I do you?” he asks.

  “Yes.” And yes and yes….

  He pushes back on my knees and gives me the same preparation I gave him, only more tenderly, it would seem. The sensations escalate until I’m restless and bucking, worked into such a frenzy I’m begging him to get inside me.

  “Say it again,” Chris commands in a deep, throaty voice, towering above me like a god.

  “Please.”

  He plunges into me. The stretch burns worse than any raspberry from skateboarding, like being split wide open, but it feels good too, and maybe it feels better because of the pain. A kind of sacrifice.

  “More,” I tell him, the same as he told me. More and more of him until there’s no clear divide between us, like the moment after sunset when the horizon blurs and you can’t tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins, when everything is blue.

  Chris straightens his broad shoulders and yanks down on my thighs, tugging me to him, filling me up completely so there’s no room in my body or mind for anything but him. I moan his name, and he seems to know how much I need him because he thrusts deeper than before, deeper than I thought possible, tearing me apart and pouring himself into me. In his expression is tenderness, everything we’ve shared, all those little jokes, arguments, and competitions, all our memories… I’d go through worse pain to share this with him because he is my person.

  He leans down and kisses my forehead, tells me he loves me. I close my eyes and Chris takes hold of my cock, piloting us both to new heights.

  To understand and be understood and trust someone so completely that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I come with the slightest provocation, easily and eager to please. Chris smiles smugly, taking all the credit, then turns his attention to his own needs. He quickens his pace, pumping me like a surfboard, snapping his hips. His thighs slap against my ass as he works my body to get himself off. His face is flushed, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, the shark’s tooth like a talisman around his arched neck. His lips part, making a sweet little O face. His eyebrows knit together as he calls out my name. I want to see that expression again and again, be the one who rattles his bones and makes him cry out.

  He strains against me and I feel him finish inside me, his breathless moaning at the final thrust, his hesitation as he withdraws. I feel everything, including the loss when he’s no longer inside me. Chris disposes of the condom and collapses on top of me like I’m a human mattress. For a few moments, the only sound is our ragged breath and the crickets buzzing outside our tent. My ass is raw and my bones ache and the pool of jelly that is my body slowly reforms in a new way.

  “That was awesome,” Chris says with unbridled exuberance.

  “Yeahhh….” I slur the word like I’m drunk. I’m still suspended in the cloud of sensation, waiting for my mind to rejoin my body.

  “Which did you like better?” He noses my shoulder, and it takes me a second to realize he means which position.

  “Don’t make me choose, Boss.”

  He chuckles, his voice thick and scratchy. “I love it when you call me that.”

  “I know you do.”

  I listen to his breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine, the heat and weight of him on top of me. I grip him to me with both arms, thinking how lucky we are. How amazing this is.

  Then I think about Uncle Theo and what he must have endured in keeping his secret all those years. What Chris and I have is special, and I don’t want to hide it. My relationship with my dad is important to me, but it has to be based on something real. The only way for him to know me is if I show him. Not who he’d like me to be, but who I honestly am.

  “What are you thinking about?” Chris asks, laying his cheek on my chest like it’s a pillow.

  “I have to tell my dad.”

  “Whenever you’re ready, I’m there.”

  “It might get ugly,” I warn him.

  “Ride or die, baby.” He squeezes my thigh.

  I sigh, swept up in all the emotions of the night, worried about what I’ll say to my dad and how he’ll react to it all. I talk a big game right now, but when faced with him, I might not have the guts to go through with it.

  “Don’t stress, T. Put that energy to good use and rub my back till I fall asleep.”

  I draw my hands down Chris’s strong back, wondering how I’ll ever manage to fall asleep with this big beefy blanket on top of me.

  I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  Old People Are the Worst

  “SO, WHAT now?” Chris asks. We surfed all morning and headed back to West Palm early. Now it’s nearing lunchtime, and Chris is hungry.

  “There’s someone I want you to introduce you to.”

  “Awesome. Where we headed?”

  “Paula’s Pit Barbecue.”

  “They have the best potato salad,” he says happily. I make a mental note to remember. The feeding and care of Christian Mitcham is my sacred duty.

  I realize when we pull into Saint Ann’s, both of us loaded down with contraband barbecue, that I might want to be a little subtler when breaking the nursing home rules. This time the woman at the front desk recognizes me, and only Chris has to produce his ID in order to get a visitor’s badge. We hide the bags of food behind the counter, even though the whole lobby smells like a barbecue joint. As soon as they hand us the passes, we head for the elevator before they can call us back.

  Upstairs, I find Uncle Theo in his room, sitting in a recliner watching what appears to be a Netflix original, and I wonder who set him up with th
e account and password, since I’m not sure he could navigate that sort of thing on his own.

  “Uncle Theo,” I call from the hallway where the door is slightly open. “Can we come in?”

  “Who’s that?” he asks, neck straining, and points at Chris.

  “It’s my boyfriend Chris.” I step aside so Chris can pass in front of me.

  “Who?” Uncle Theo stands as if to get a better look.

  “Hi, Captain Wooten.” Chris walks up to him and holds out his hand while I set the food on a small dining table. “I’m Chris. Nice to meet you.”

  “I know you,” my uncle says stubbornly while grabbing on to Chris’s outstretched hand. “Adam?”

  Chris glances over at me with a questioning look, and I shrug my shoulders like, go with it.

  “We brought food,” I tell him. “Barbecue like the last time. You hungry?”

  Uncle Theo makes his way over to the table using an aluminum cane for support. I’ve never seen it before now, so maybe he just uses it when he’s alone in his room. He glances sideways at Chris like Chris might steal something while his back is turned. He’s probably not used to having strangers in his apartment.

  I check out his digs. Uncle Theo’s suite is larger and homier than what I expected. The walls are painted a buttercup yellow with pictures hanging on the walls. There’s an adjoining bathroom that looks a little more hospital-like with all the old people add-ons. There’s also a bedroom where his Navy memorabilia and old family photographs are on display. After a quick survey, I start unpacking the food. Chris sits across the table from Uncle Theo, and the staring contest continues. Chris keeps glancing over at me for a sign, while Uncle Theo studies Chris like he’s trying to memorize his face.

  I present the food to my uncle, but he doesn’t even acknowledge it.

  “I like your place,” Chris says, perhaps trying to put him at ease.

  “What are you doing here?” Uncle Theo asks earnestly. He seems confused and a little upset. His mouth pulls down into a frown.