The Anatomy of Perception

by AJ Rose

  My eyes drooped and I fought a losing battle with sleep. As I teetered on the edge of consciousness, the vibration of his reply startled me, and I jerked as though I were falling, striking the headboard with one hand as I flailed. It took a minute before the pain subsided enough for me to read what he’d said.

  Craig: Thank you.

  That was all. I couldn’t interpret that, and I didn’t even try.

  Me: You’re welcome.

  I plugged my phone in to charge and set it on my nightstand, then rolled over to sleep.

  Over the next few days, he sent me a couple of texts, mostly with more questions.

  Craig: Do you have any other siblings?

  That was easy.

  Me: no.

  Craig: Do you still talk to your brother?

  That was more difficult.

  Me: no, though not by choice.

  Craig: Is your dad still a threat?

  That was harder to answer in a simple text, so I was as succinct as possible.

  Me: not right now.

  I promised to tell Craig more when I saw him again. His next text surprised me.

  Craig: Are you free Thursday night?

  That time, I couldn’t help but find a pocket of good reception in the hospital and call him. Thankfully, he picked up.

  “You know, the point of texting is to keep a little distance.” There was humor in his voice. I smiled, unable to stop the little bubble of happiness popping in my chest and spreading hope, which was dangerous if this went badly.

  “Yet you’re asking me my schedule so we can get together, I assume, so you don’t want distance right this minute. It’s a good sign.”

  He outright laughed at that. “Presumptuous, aren’t we?”

  “Confident,” I corrected, with just enough seriousness he would understand I meant it, to an extent, even if he was still in control.

  “Okay, you got me. I would like to take you somewhere Thursday night. Are you available?”

  “It just so happens I am.”

  “So, around seven, then?” Craig asked.

  “Yeah, that’d be fine.”

  “And, um, maybe dress smart casual if you have more than scrubs in your closet.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Something specific in mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “Going to clue me in?”

  “No.” He laughed playfully, and I found myself nearly floating. Gone was the careful, standoffish guy of the last several days, the foreign insecurity so apparent even in his texts, I couldn’t help but be sad I’d done that to him. Perhaps my explanation about Sabrina lifted a weight. I could only hope. “It’s a surprise,” he promised.

  I gulped, the smile fading from my face, the euphoria over being asked on a date by Craig being replaced with the thrum of anxiety. I sincerely hated surprises, especially ones involving crowds, to the point where panic was a possibility. Just breathe. It’s Craig. Not only won’t he hurt you, he doesn’t even know he’s tripping a trigger.

  “Okay,” I agreed soberly. “I’ll dress better than scrubs and meet you at the loft at seven.”

  “Great,” he said, either not hearing the change in my tone or ignoring it. I chose to believe he didn’t catch it.

  “See you then.” I disconnected before he could hear the tremble in my voice. It would be fine. My reasons to panic were over, safely out of my life. As I pocketed my phone and went about the rest of my day, the pearl of hope I’d been carefully cultivating in the soft tissues of my heart gained another iridescent layer of thickness.

  May 2009

  “You’re so beautiful,” Craig murmured, his lips tickling the skin between my shoulder blades. “The light loves you.”

  I squinted at the alarm clock beside our bed, then rolled over with a sleepy smile, trying to keep the bright day outside the loft windows from blinding me. “We don’t have time for you to paint me.”

  It had taken some getting used to when I’d moved in the year before, the way the light shone into the loft. I was often up late studying, so I preferred to sleep when I could grab it, sometimes binge sleeping after several days of only catching naps. But a painter’s light was sacred, and to cover it up with curtains would be sacrilege. The suggestion was enough to cause gasps of dismay and jokes about deal breakers. Craig got up with the sun most days, either to go running or to watch the sunrise come glinting up the mirrored windows of the buildings in our view. More times than I could count, I’d awoken to Craig in the corner of our bedroom, easel set up and brush furiously at work while he painted me tangled in sheets with my hair sticking out in all directions. He called it beauty. I called it a fetish. He appeased me by hanging the nudes of me in our bedroom and nowhere else.

  “No, we don’t have time for me to paint you. But we do have time for other things.” He grinned, his eyes dancing as he lowered his hand to grasp my morning boner, which twitched into the contact. “How about a graduation blow job? Or can I ride your overly educated dick, Doctor?”

  “Mmm, say that again,” I said, stretching like an entitled cat. Hell, I’d earned it. I graduated med school at NYU and was about to embark on my internship at Elijah Hope Medical Center in Manhattan. If I couldn’t be proud of myself for this, I couldn’t be proud of myself for anything.

  “Fuck me, Doctor,” he said huskily, deliberately stretching the last word out while straddling me and grinding his bare ass against the cotton front of my boxer briefs, the tip of his dick leaving a trail of pre-come on my abdomen. I loved the silken feel of him sliding against me, how he already looked debauched. That was one thing about my Craig: he threw himself into every task with gusto.

  Without brushing my teeth, I was too self-conscious for the kisses I normally craved, so I rolled him to his back and attacked his throat. If I couldn’t taste his mouth, I would sample him everywhere else. Thankfully, the graduation ceremony wasn’t for a few hours, and I had time to go exploring.

  Craig ran his fingers through my hair, gripping and guiding my mouth to his nipples, which had a direct line to his dick. I’d always wanted to see if I could get him to come just by nipple play alone. But today I wanted more. I wanted him sweaty and mine, writhing desperately on my cock, so later, when the crowds of the ceremony closed in on me, I could check out mentally with pleasant visions in my head. Stupid, I knew, for someone who hated crowds to have moved to New York City, but it was the last place anyone would suspect. Besides, Holly had come with me, so I knew I could conquer it, even if I wouldn’t admit my crowd aversions were getting worse. And now I had Craig, who was mewling kittenish noises, and I hadn’t even touched his dick yet.

  I renewed my attention to Craig’s left nipple, sucking it hard and flicking it with the tip of my tongue. He arched and whined, goosebumps breaking out over his skin, then raised his legs so his cock rubbed against my stomach. I held him still by his hips, moving to the other nipple.

  “Not fair,” he gasped, shimmying side to side in defiance of my grip.

  I laughed and worked my tongue down his abs, resting comfortably on my elbows between his thighs. Licking the skin around the base of his shaft without actually getting his cock wet made him quiver. He’d gotten waxed the week prior, so I knew he’d be extra sensitive. By the way he shook and held his legs back at the knees to move as close to my face as he could, it was clear he loved every swipe of my tongue, despite the lack of friction. But I wanted to make this last, and not just on his part, so after I sucked his left nut in my mouth and popped off perfunctorily, I moved to the nightstand for the lube and my cock ring. While I rummaged, Craig tugged off my underwear, taking a bite of my ass cheek and making me squirm.

  When I’d met him three years before, I’d never experienced more than furtive or hurried hookups. He’d exposed me to the hours to be had seeking pleasure, not just to chase orgasm, but to simply feel good and revel in the beauty of another’s body. Craig taught me the difference between fucking and lovemaking, though it made me cringe to even think that word.
So, despite not having been a virgin when Craig had taken me to bed on our second date, he’d opened up a whole new world for me.

  First, his confidence in his body was captivating. He knew how to move, and he didn’t give a damn if the shimmy of his hips was reminiscent of a stripper on a pole or if his lack of pubic hair screamed girly. I didn’t care either, because the sight of him riding me, leaning back to give me a breathtaking view, was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. People, for some reason, felt protective of Craig upon meeting him. He didn’t need it, but he’d told me on more than one occasion how his previous boyfriends had handled him carefully in bed. Not me. I loved when he let out his inner hellcat.

  Second, his creative use of toys had been a shock in the beginning, but now cock rings and dildos were as common as the use of lube. Craig was incredibly sexual, and while he’d dampened it for a previous boyfriend who wasn’t as adventurous, I basked in it. Most of the time, Craig channeled his dramatics into his art, his outward appearance belying his inner queen. To everyone else, he was just a handsome guy, and it was his talent that stood out. But in bed, anything was possible, from me pulling off his jeans and finding him sporting something lacy beneath to discovering a butt plug he’d worn all through a movie or out dancing, and he was slick and ready for me to remove it and plow into his stretched, greedy hole.

  As I came up with my favorite ring and stretched it around my balls and shaft, Craig slathered his tongue around the head of my dick. I grunted, trying to keep from pinching skin, but it was difficult with him distracting me.

  “You’re impatient this morning,” I grumbled.

  “Want you,” he panted, licking me like a lollipop between words.

  “Three seconds to get this ring on right and you’ll get my dick inside you for longer than I can go without it. Patience.”

  “No,” he said petulantly and swallowed me down as far as he could get with my hands in the way.

  I hissed, managed to unpinch myself with no help from him, and groaned in pleasure at the sharp suction. With the ring on, everything felt bigger, more immediate, and more intense, without concern for imminent eruption.

  “Lie back,” I growled, damn near tackling him to the bed and pushing his legs apart. I resumed my attention to his balls, and below, his musky pre-shower scent was stronger.

  “Don’t go any lower,” he warned. “Lubed already.”

  I peered between his cheeks and chuckled, then blew across his shiny skin and the jeweled base of his favorite butt plug, the ribbed egg.

  “Got up way before me, I see.”

  He grinned down at me and winked, then rolled his eyes back in their sockets when I gave the plug a little wiggle and sucked him down.

  “Hnnngh.”

  “What was that?” I asked, then got serious about showing him all my mouth could do. If his sounds were to be interpreted, his urgency was growing. With deliberate slowness, I pulled the plug from him, one rib at a time, making him keen sharply. He was beginning to come undone, and I needed to keep pushing, keep him on edge.

  “Bastard,” he panted. I shot up the bed and covered him with my body.

  “What happened to Doctor?” I murmured in his ear, reaching between us to aim the head of my dick. He was too busy gasping to answer as I pushed my modest length into him. I had no delusions of being the biggest stud Craig’s stable had ever held, but there was more to a powerful fuck than friction, length, girth, and stamina.

  Craig was my world, my wide-eyed, optimistic artist, the man who’d flirted with me for six months by chalking my face all over the city before we had a single date. He gave me his passion, his openness. His eager and hopeful disposition burst from him, obliterated my cynicism, and lit the dark of my past. He showed me beauty and love in a world that before him had been bleak and harsh, like thorns that pierced and tore to whims I’d never understood or been able to predict, let alone avoid. Craig showed me to look a little farther up the stem, because above the thorns was the bloom, breathtaking and absolutely attainable if one just opened their eyes and reached higher. Before Craig, I’d been existing. He’d shown me how to live.

  So, when I pushed inside him, it was my heart that swelled more than my dick. I locked on his brown eyes, their fire hot and trained on me while I strove to make him soar. Craig had saved me, even if I’d been scared at first. I wanted him to feel my devotion, and though it was him coming apart beneath me, biting my collarbone as I slid my hands under his back and curled my fingers over his shoulders to pull him down as I thrust up, it was my jagged edges being smoothed and reformed.

  He flailed his arms and howled, the cords of his neck standing out as the friction from my stomach on his cock pushed him to eruption. He gripped the sheets and staccato “huh” sounds fell from his mouth with each spasm of his sphincter on my dick. The heightened sensation from the cock ring pulled me to my own edge and I sped up, chasing release. I could explain the process of male ejaculation and how a cock ring affected an orgasm, but knowledge had nothing on sensation. The first jet of spunk slicked the way for more thrusts into Craig’s ass, followed slowly by the second pulse, my pinnacle overtaking me in slow motion. It was almost frustrating, the stretch between the spasms of climax, as though I were dying of thirst and plunged into a pool of fresh, cool water, but was unable to partake more than a drop every half a minute. Each reverberation of pleasure through my cock wasn’t enough. The momentum hadn’t gathered quite enough to release. Craig knew it, and despite looming sensitivity, he opened his legs wider, beckoned me deeper, challenged me for more. His body had gone pliant, but his expression remained reverent as he urged me on.

  “Fuck me, yeah,” he whispered, licking over my Adam’s apple and nipping my collarbone again, right over the mark he’d sucked into my skin. The bite of pain gave me another surge of rapture as the cock ring prolonged my spurts, making them deeper, bigger, more devastating. My limbs tingled, and I squeezed my eyes shut, crying out as the roll and pitch of pleasure crescendoed to a swell that took me by surprise with its intensity. I rode it, humming with little control of my voice as Craig clung to me and whispered nonsensical encouragement in my ear.

  “Yeah, baby, come on, give me all you got. That’s it. Fill me up.”

  The last vestiges of my climax finally, finally faded and I returned to full awareness, breathing hard and staring into the eyes of my superhero.

  “I love you,” he mumbled, playfully scraping his teeth over the edge of my chin, his tongue peeking out to rasp against my stubble.

  I kissed him, a small peck, awareness of my unbrushed teeth returning as I buried my face in his neck to bite gently, then laid my cheek on his chest, concentrating on the slow softening of my cock still in his ass. He wrapped me in arms and legs and held me, running his fingers through my hair. When I could move, I pulled out gently and grabbed the forgotten butt plug, rubbing the end against his hole and spreading a dribble of my spunk on the smooth metal. Aware of his sensitivity, but fascinated by the idea of him plugged up, my semen trapped within him, I carefully pushed the egg back in, a rib at a time as I’d done pulling it out. He held his legs apart, the silence becoming charged with the idea of him walking around with remnants of me inside him all day. Once only the round, jeweled base was visible, I skated my hands up his thighs, reveling in the hair of his legs parting between my fingers.

  “Shower with me,” I said, laying on him again, my soft cock mashed into his hip as he dropped his legs and stretched. “I want to kiss you senseless after I’ve brushed my teeth.

  “I suppose,” he said as if the thought pained him with the effort it would require. “You did just make me very, very dirty.” He trailed a finger down my abs, smearing some of the come that had transferred to me in our embrace.

  “And before the day is out,” I whispered, nipping his earlobe and pushing his legs apart to tap a finger on the plug, “I plan to do it again.”

  He shivered and smiled, then helped me to my feet, slapping my ass and pushing me
ahead of him into the bathroom, where he prepped the shower while I loaded up my toothbrush.

  “I want you to wear that ring on your dick all day, so only you and I know each other’s secrets in front of all of those people calling you Doctor and respecting you for putting yourself through school and asking where you’re going with your life. We’ll know the real answer: Craig’s ass. That’s where you’ll be going later.” He pulled me into the tub with him, the spray hitting my back, drowning out my chuckle. I pulled him close and pressed my lips to his ear.

  “I love you, too.” Then I gave him a real kiss.

  The bar was rowdy, and I was ready to go home, but Braden brought us another round before I could make our excuses, proud of himself for being able to navigate the crowd back to our table without spilling. Holly planted a sloppy kiss on his lips in thanks, and I looked at Craig with clear annoyance, tilting my chin to the door to indicate I was ready to leave, while our companions were occupied trying to crawl into each other’s throats.

  “Where’s your internship?” Braden asked, finally breaking free from Holly’s face. I rolled my eyes and fiddled with the beer I had no intention of drinking. I’d had my limit of three, and when the buzz had begun, I’d stopped, telling Braden I was done. He’d obviously forgotten. Neil had abandoned us hours before, shortly after our celebration dinner. I’d given Craig my last beer, but he was beginning to look droopy eyed too, and I didn’t want him getting whiskey dick, so I held onto this bottle and fidgeted with it.

  “I told you weeks ago when I found out. Elijah Hope. Dude, no more to drink for me.” I thrust the beer back at Braden, who shrugged and took it. I knew he’d forget again if we didn’t manage to say goodbye.

  Holly narrowed her eyes. “Why are you being a jerk? I know you’re not drunk enough.” Her shrill voice cut through the bar noise and grated on my nerves. I glared at her. Of course I wasn’t drunk enough. I never got drunk. I loved Holly, but sometimes, when she’d had a few, she let her bitch flag fly and forgot not everyone in hearing range knew where we’d come from.