Love Potion #9

by Tinnean

  Maybe if I didn’t make a sound they’d think no one was home and would go away?

  The tapping turned to rapping. “Drey, open the door.”

  Artemas? Shouldn’t he be at Uncle Angelo’s with his date, enjoying the limoncello I’d made because I knew he had a fondness for it? What was he doing here?

  “Drey, I know you’re in there. The lights are on, and I can smell your dinner. Open the f-the damned door.”

  “I was going to,” I muttered to myself as I unlocked the door and yanked it open. “What?”

  Artemas stared at me, obviously disgruntled, and he leaned down to rub his shin. “Why don’t you have the outside light on?”

  “You came here to ask me that?”

  “Well, no, but I thought it was relevant, since I gave my shin a pretty good bang on your steps.”

  I stepped aside and waved him into my apartment. “Is everything all right?”

  He gripped my chin and tipped up my face. “That’s what I’d like to know. Are you coming down with an allergy? Your eyes look red.”

  Shit. “No, I’m fine.”

  “If you’re so fine, why did you leave work?”

  “I felt like taking a night off. Do you mind?”

  “No, of course not. You never take time off. I…I’d hoped to spend the evening with you.”

  “You’ve got your boyfriend. Why would you need me hanging around like a fifth wheel?”

  “You’re never a—Wait a minute, what do you mean boyfriend? What boyfriend?”

  “Oliver.”

  He burst into laughter, and I smacked his arm.

  “Don’t you make fun of me,” I snapped.

  “I’m not…I’m sorry…Ah, baby.”

  Before I could snap again, this time to inform him in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t a baby, he pulled me into his arms. The scent of his aftershave swirled around my head, and I inhaled deeply. I’d always loved that scent, even back in high school.

  “Artemas.” I sighed. Did I just feel his lips brush against my temple?

  “Oliver’s my cousin. He’s visiting from out of town, and he wanted to meet the young man he’d been hearing about for years.”

  “Really? You talked about me to your family?”

  “I did.”

  “For years?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why is it so hard for you to accept how well-thought-of you are?”

  I stepped out of his embrace. “Because I’m not the man I was.” I didn’t need to be well-thought-of, I needed to be loved. The corner of his mouth curled up in a grin, and I wanted to hit him. “What do you find so funny?”

  “I’m sorry, Drey. It’s just—you make it sound as if you lost your manhood.”

  I couldn’t stop a tear from welling up and sliding down my cheek. “I may as well have. I lost an essential part of me, and…and I have to tell you it hurts that you can dismiss it so easily.”

  His grin vanished, and he turned pale. “Oh, Drey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it. I know how important your IQ was to you.”

  “Do you? All my life I’d heard I could be the twenty-first century’s Federico Bianchi. I’d hoped to accomplish things as great as he did.”

  “You still can.”

  “How? All I’m able to do now is make pizza.”

  “That’s important.”

  “Who to?”

  “To the people who enjoy it.”

  I couldn’t say I cared nothing for them, because truthfully, I did enjoy knowing people liked the pizzas I created, but trying to accept what I’d lost, and especially on this day… I turned away and scrubbed my face.

  “Do you know what today is?”

  He stared at me blankly.

  “It’s the anniversary of that damned party when Johnny Haskell punched me so hard he scrambled my brains and destroyed the most important thing in my life. Nine years, Artemas. And if I live to be eighty, I’ll have fifty-four more years mourning that loss.”

  “Andrey.” He reached out and touched my hair, letting a strand drift through his fingers. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

  Love me? I felt my stomach drop as I realized I’d said that aloud. “Forget I said that.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t, not when I already do.”

  I wheeled to face him. “You do? How can you? You’ve never—you treat me like a friend.”

  “You are my friend, and I’d like nothing better than for you to be more than that.”

  “Then why haven’t you said anything?”

  “Oh, baby—I’m fifteen years older than you.”

  I blinked. I hadn’t realized he was that much older, but even if he was fifty years older, I’d still love him. “So? Is that supposed to be an excuse?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “I’m not a baby.”

  “Believe me, I’m aware of that.”

  “Then why haven’t you said anything?”

  “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to tell you how I feel, and how I’ve fought telling you. Until you told me just now, I had no idea how you felt about me. I mean yes, you considered me your friend, but I never knew if it went beyond that. And as I said, I’m fifteen years older.”

  “Age never mattered to me.”

  “I understand that, but it mattered to me. Just as the loss of your IQ is so devastating to you but doesn’t affect how I see you and feel about you. Now, hush.” He tipped my chin up and kissed me.

  I stood there and let him, so startled my jaw dropped, and I shivered when he took advantage of it to lick delicately at my inner cheek, then slip his tongue into my mouth to stroke my own tongue.

  It had been longer than I liked to consider since I’d been kissed, and I lost my head. That was the only excuse I could give for what I did next—I threw my arms around his neck, pulled him in closer, tilted my head to deepen the kiss, and wrapped a leg around his hips, lining up our cocks together.

  “Oh, Drey.” He rubbed his cheek against mine, his voice rough. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

  “So have I, but I thought you preferred someone not me.”

  “Never. However, I’m an old man.”

  “You’re not, so stop talking bullshit.”

  “Well, I’m older than you.”

  “That’s true, but it won’t make any difference regarding what I feel for you.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. I haven’t seen this T-shirt before.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I do. Might I hope it’s me who’s the other half of your rainbow?

  “Yes.” I’d seen the T- and had immediately thought of him. I hadn’t expected to admit as much, and to him of all people. I angled back to look into his beautiful brown eyes. “How long?”

  “Have I felt like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Since before I drove up to Cambridge.”

  “Really?”

  “Silly boy. Do you think I rearrange my schedule and drive three hours for all my students?”

  “I thought you were a conscientious teacher.”

  “I like to think I am, but not to that degree. Do you have any other questions you’d like to ask?”

  “Probably, but I can’t think of any just now. No, wait, yes, I can.”

  “All right, go ahead.”

  “Would you think it presumptuous of me to ask if we can make love?” I held my breath, waiting to hear his response.

  He didn’t say a word, though, simply kissed me again and let his broad smile answer for him. I twined my fingers with his and tugged him along after me into my bedroom.

  * * * *

  “I…uh…I’ve only done anal once. Or twice,” I told Artemas as I yanked the T-shirt over my head. I was a little embarrassed to admit that, and I looked away from him. “And I…er…topped.”

  “I’m versatile, although I usually bottom.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. It’s relax
ing to let someone else take over the reins.”

  “I never had the opportunity to try it.”

  “Never?”

  “None of the guys I dated wanted to go that route. They had this kink, you see. They liked being topped by the short guy.”

  “I can’t say I blame them.” He brushed his lips over mine, lapping gently at them. “You’re a wonder.”

  I blushed. “So I’m not totally inexperienced,” I assured him. “I’m pretty good at hand jobs and blowjobs. At least I was when I was eighteen.”

  “What about since then?”

  “Nothing. It took a long time for me to come to terms with…well, you know. Um…are you disappointed?”

  “It would hardly be fair for me to expect you not to enjoy your sexuality, but I’m sorrier than I can express to learn you were so devastated by the loss of your IQ that you gave up on human closeness. I wish I’d known. I’d have done everything in my power to comfort you.”

  “Would you have?”

  “Do you even have to ask?” His image was reflected in the mirror above my dresser, and I couldn’t resist taking a peek. My mouth went dry. He was naked. He must have torn off his clothes and flung them to the corners of my room, because that’s where I could see them. He was busy turning down the comforter, and his ass was a beauty to behold, so round, so firm, I wanted to sink my teeth into it. Those perfect globes were something I wouldn’t have expected of a man his age. I was aware of how ageist that was of me, but in my defense, my previous boyfriends had been my own age, and I was completely at sea as to what to expect from an older lover.

  I swallowed and licked my lips. Artemas was going to be my lover. I swallowed again as he made himself comfortable on my bed.

  “Do you like what you see?”

  “My God, you’re beautiful,” I said, my voice hoarse. His torso arrowed to a trim waist, his pecs were nicely defined with nipples that begged for attention, and a line of dark brown hair led down the center of his body to flair out at his groin. As for his cock… My asshole clenched at the sight of it, thick and proud as it stood at attention, a drop of precome already beading at the tip.

  “You’re a little behind,” he murmured.

  “Huh? Oh, sorry.” It was my turn to fling my clothes to the four corners of my bedroom. I was about to throw myself on him when he held out his hand. “What?” Had he changed his mind? Had I been too enthusiastic?

  “I love you, Drey, but I’m not going to let you fuck me without lube and a condom.”

  “I get to fuck you?”

  He grinned wryly. “I confess my undying love, and that’s all you hear?”

  I blushed again. “Sorry. But you already know I love you.”

  “I do.” The smile on his face could have lit the room, and I was thrilled.

  Until I had a thought. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have any condoms.”

  “Will you think I’m self-centered if I admit how happy that makes me?”

  “Never.” I was willing to do whatever it took to make him happy. “But it would have been more convenient if we had them.”

  “Then we’ll pick up a box tomorrow. Meanwhile, we’ll find other ways to amuse ourselves. And when we’re done, we’ll replenish our energy by eating whatever it is that smells so scrumptious.”

  “Oh, that’s just—”

  He held out his arms, and I forgot all about the beef stew and threw myself into his arms, happier than I could remember being in years.

  I’d planned to be a world-renowned chemist like Federico Bianchi, but so what if I wound up being a cook in a pizza parlor instead? I had the man of my dreams in my arms, and most important of all, I hadn’t had to use a love potion for him to fall in love with me.

  THE END

  ABOUT TINNEAN

  Tinnean has been writing since the third grade, where she was inspired to try her hand at epic poetry. Fortunately, that epic poem didn’t survive the passage of time; however, her love of writing not only survived but thrived, and in high school she became a member of the magazine staff, where she contributed a number of stories.

  Starting a family resulted in the writing being set aside, although throughout those years Tinnean did continue to keep a journal. Once the kids were old enough to do their own thing, she was able to dabble in writing again. It was with the advent of the family’s second computer—the first intimidated everyone—that her writing took off, enhanced in part by fan fiction, but mostly by the wonder that is copy and paste.

  While involved in fandom, she was nominated for both Rerun and Light My Fire Awards. Now she concentrates on her original characters and has been published by Nazca Plains, Dreamspinner, JMS Books, Wilde City Press, and Less Than Three Press.

  Tinnean is what you might call a hopeful romantic, and if you see her name on a story, it will have a happy ending.

  Her signature line, a quote by Ernest Hemingway, says it all: “Once writing has become your major vice and greatest pleasure, only death can stop it.”

  A New Yorker at heart, she resides in southwest Florida with her husband and three computers.

  ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

  JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!