My Guys

by Tanya Chris

  “Wait.” His hands came down to hold my head still.

  I looked up at him, his cock halfway out of my mouth.

  “Feel it?”

  I nodded.

  “No hurry.” He took his hands off my head. “Draw it out.”

  I’d never thought of not making him come before, but I could see the potential. I returned to my sucking, slowing it down, adding in more detours, using less rhythm. When I felt the rush rise up again, I slowed down even further. He groaned as if in agony, a lovely sound. I teased, keeping my mouth on the tip of his cock, letting my fingers trace lightly down his shaft. The slower I moved, the more he moved. His hands were in my hair, stroking blindly.

  “Lissie, Lissie.” He gave another tortured moan when I moved quickly for three strokes before stopping entirely. “Sweet God.”

  When I couldn’t move any slower, when his climax was inevitable, I drove him to it hard. He exploded in my mouth with a scream, his hands fisting in my hair, burying himself in me. After a moment he sagged back against the bed.

  “Enough,” he said, laughing weakly. I sat up cross-legged between his legs and enjoyed my view. He was as sweaty as he usually made me, and his eyes looked as unfocused as I usually felt. I rubbed my hand along his thigh and he twitched again.

  “Recovered yet?” I asked, turned on by his reaction.

  “Definitely not.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me while his dick softened between us.

  “Now?”

  Chuckling, he rolled me over and slid down my body until his head was between my legs. I threaded a hand through his damp hair as he dug in.

  Later, as I stroked Nate’s head on my chest, he brought up Derek again. “You could give him some guidance, you know, with his technique. You don’t have to accept it as bad.”

  “I wouldn’t know how. I don’t know what you’re doing down there. I’m not that conscious.”

  “You know what feels good and what doesn’t. Tell him.”

  I didn’t answer, trying to imagine a conversation along those lines.

  “If you don’t, it’s your own fault. At least tell me you’re not faking again.”

  “Mm.”

  “Lissie.” Nate brought a hand up to my breast. He rubbed the nipple idly with his thumb, silent for a moment. “Never mind,” he said at last. “It’s none of my business. Just remember, you get the sex you deserve.”

  Chapter 18

  After another long tech week, I was glad to be climbing again, and to see Derek again. The show had come off beautifully, an appreciative audience filling the seats opening night, laughing in all the right places.

  I’d watched plenty of plays before coming to Central Playhouse, but I’d never given a thought to what the lights were doing. They went on and off, was about how much I knew. Watching our show, I could only see two things—lighting and Nate. When Nate pushed the action into the fifth dimension, and our light change swept across the stage with perfect precision, it was the climax of the show for me.

  The experience was worth the time it had taken, but my body missed climbing and Derek.

  “I doubt it’s going to rain at all,” Derek said in the gym parking lot, turning a sour face up towards the overcast but dry sky.

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Hey.” He turned from me and walked towards the gym, leaving me to scramble behind him. We’d talked several times during the two weeks since I’d last seen him, but only briefly. The nights were late enough, and on some of them Nate had come home with me. He’d even fallen asleep beside me one night, though he was gone before I woke up in the morning.

  “I get the feeling you’re angry,” I said when I caught up to Derek at the door.

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tossing his bangs back. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Because of me.” He opened the door and gestured for me to go in first.

  The rainy forecast had packed the gym. The lobby was crowded with people waiting to sign in.

  “Hey, Lissie,” Gary said when it was my turn. “I wondered where you’d been.”

  I told him a little about the show I’d been working on.

  “Maybe I’ll come see it. We’ll get a gang together. You’d go, right, Derek?”

  Derek, who’d been scowling from the moment Gary greeted me, looked away in answer. Gary shrugged. I shrugged back. I stepped aside so Derek could scan his card while I gave Gary the details about show dates and times.

  “I don’t know what Gary ever did to you,” I said when we were clear of him.

  “He’s always hitting on you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Derek made a face at me.

  “You know, I was looking forward to seeing you, but maybe I should climb with someone else if you’re going to be an ass all evening. “

  He glared at me with sharp hostility, then slowly exhaled.

  “Give me a minute.” He dropped his harness and disappeared.

  I stayed where I was, wondering how long I was supposed to do that. Where had he gone? I dropped my harness next to his and went looking for him. It didn’t take me long to figure out where he was.

  “Hi,” he said when I crawled in next to him under the bush. He put a hand on my cheek and leaned in to kiss me, first with sweet longing and then with increasing hunger.

  “I’m sorry about being an ass,” he said when he broke the kiss.

  “It’s OK.”

  “I missed you.”

  “That’s a lousy way to show it.”

  “I know.” He kissed me some more, his arms coming all the way around me and beneath me, lifting, trying to get me into his lap.

  “Derek!” I pushed against this chest. “How far do you think we’re going to go under a bush?”

  He banged his head back against the wall in frustration, hard enough that it must have hurt. He reached a hand up to rub it and we both laughed.

  “What are you doing under here?”

  “Getting my head on straight. Sometimes I need a minute to center myself.”

  “OK now?”

  He nodded and we crawled out from under the bush and went back into the gym.

  “Field trip!” Katrina squealed when she caught sight of me. “Gary says we’re going to see your show. Totally psyched. Then you’ve got to come to one of my competitions. Deal?”

  “Sure. Who else is coming?”

  “Everyone,” Katrina waved her arm around the gym. “Gary’s arranging it.”

  Gary must have been busy because all night long people were asking me about it, and every time someone asked, Derek’s mood worsened. My glow from the kisses under the bush faded in the face of his rotten attitude.

  When I’d had enough—my arms aching because I hadn’t climbed in two weeks and my smile strained by trying to pretend everything was normal—I took off my harness and told him I was leaving. He took his off, too.

  “Does that mean you’re coming with me?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Don’t come then.”

  Derek dropped his head, standing silently in front of me, one hand clutching his harness, the other opening and closing, making his forearm tighten.

  “Can I?” he asked at last.

  “Derek—” I shook my head. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  The last time Derek was at my place, the last time I’d seen him, I was racing the clock. Alex and I had been working our way through a set of do-it-yourself-divorce forms he’d downloaded off the internet. I was anxious to get rid of him before Derek stopped by after climbing, but Alex wasn’t cooperating.

  “You know what this reminds me of?” he’d asked.

  I shook my head, glancing out the dining room window at the rosy hue forming on the horizon. Derek would be packing up his gear.

  “Doing the mortgage paperwork. That was the last time I filled out this many forms.”

  We�
�d done the mortgage paperwork ourselves too, at a different dining room table, one covered in pits and scars and stains that his parents had unearthed from their garage when we first moved in together. We’d made a good team then, and we made a good team now. It wasn’t difficulty with the paperwork that was making the process take so long. It was Alex’s insistence on traveling down memory lane with every line item. Remember when we decided this or bought that?

  Remember, remember, remember. I didn’t want to remember. Remembering what was meant accepting that it wasn’t anymore.

  I’d been impatient with Alex’s dawdling that night because I was eager to spend time with Derek. I was a lot less eager about spending time with him tonight, given the mood he was in.

  “A beer or something?” I asked, leading him into the living room.

  When he shook his head, I sat down on my usual couch cushion and waited while he jiggled with nervous energy nearby.

  “I hope you don’t think I’m going to see that show.”

  “I guess you don’t have to.”

  “Two weeks,” he said. “I’m just supposed to wait?”

  “I’m sorry. Maybe I could have found some time. I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal to you.”

  “You found time to see him, I bet.”

  “Nate?”

  He scowled at me. “Yes, Nate.” He pronounced the name as if its rhyming with ‘hate’ was more than a coincidence.

  “Is that what this is about?”

  “No.”

  “I think it is.”

  “Two weeks, you didn’t have time to see me once, but you had plenty of time to see Nate.” That twist on his name again.

  “Yes, I saw Nate. He was at the theater. I was at the theater. I saw him.”

  “And fucked him.”

  “Yes, and fucked him. And worked like a dog and stayed up way too late every night and did some things I’m pretty proud of—scary, new, amazing things—and helped create something with a bunch of other people working to create something, and filed some divorce papers, and went to work every day, and in my spare time, I fucked Nate.”

  He was quiet then and I was quiet too, our anger freezing to the snapping point in the coldness of our silence.

  “Derek.” I paused, not happy about what I was going to say, not sure I had the strength to say it. I sucked in my breath and let the words out with it. “Maybe this is a bad idea. You and me. This situation. It’s making you very unhappy.”

  “No.”

  “It is. I’m sorry. It’d be easier on you if—”

  “No!” He paced back and forth across my living room—quick, sharp steps to nowhere. “Don’t do this, Lissie.”

  “I feel like I’m just going to keep hurting you.”

  “Don’t. Please.” He came back to me in a rush and knelt on the floor in front of me. “Don’t say that. Don’t do this. Please. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not mad at you. I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”

  He buried his head in my lap, his arms wrapping around my legs. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore. I won’t be jealous. I promise.”

  “Derek, baby, I’m not Emily. This won’t bring her back. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Please.”

  I couldn’t do it, couldn’t bear to break his heart—not like that. Even though I knew it wasn’t me he was trying to keep, he needed this chance to prove he could.

  “Look at me.”

  He picked up his head, his eyes wet with unshed tears. I ran my hand through his hair, stroking him, calming him.

  “Remember that day I threw my shoe at you, trying to be funny, and I accidentally hit you in the eye with it?”

  He nodded.

  “It must have really hurt, right? You had a bruise here for a week.” I traced my thumb under his eye. “You never made a noise—swore you couldn’t even feel it. You remember that?”

  He nodded again, his eyes never leaving my face.

  “You did that for me, pretended it didn’t hurt. You can do this for me, too. You can be brave for me.”

  He nodded a third time.

  “Show me.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were clearer, the tears gone.

  “How was the show?” he asked, his voice only a little strained.

  “It was really good. We had a full house opening night and they loved it. Makes all the work seem worth it.”

  “Tell me about the lights. I don’t know anything about theater lighting.”

  I told him about the lights while he knelt at my feet. As I talked, his shoulders relaxed and he loosened the grip he had on my legs. When he smiled at something I said, I leaned forward and kissed him.

  “Take me to bed. I’ve missed you.”

  He stood and lifted me like he had that first day, carrying me up the stairs and into my room and laying me gently down on the bed. We lay on our sides face to face, kissing while we undressed around and through the clothes we tugged and shifted off each other.

  When we were naked, he knelt beside me and ran his hands up and down my body, his eyes following them. I reached up to pull him down to me, but he caught my hands in his.

  “Let me.” He began kissing his way down my body.

  Uh oh, I thought. Here we go. How was I supposed to do this? When was I supposed to this? Should I correct him with his head between my legs? Bark instructions at him? Wait for a time when we weren’t having sex and bring it up all casually, like “Hey, did you know what you’re doing orally doesn’t work for me at all?” Could I communicate through wiggles and hand gestures? Because the words were horrible.

  He nudged my legs apart with his head. I teetered between excitement and despair. His tongue was against me, poking at my clit.

  Ask me, I begged him mentally. Please ask me what I want, so I can tell you. Don’t make me start the conversation.

  I put my hand on his head and tried to push it down and in. I titled my hips. Briefly, there was alignment, but as soon as I relaxed, his head moved and my hips moved and everything was wrong again. I groaned in frustration. Derek picked up his head. I caved. Tonight was not the night. Now was not the time.

  “You drive me crazy,” I said. “Come here.” I drew him into me, concentrating on the things we did well together—my tongue in his ear, his cock in my pussy.

  Nate is wrong, I thought. I don’t have to fix Derek. I can enjoy him the way he is.

  When we were done and I lay nestled against him, my head on his shoulder, blissfully content, he was quiet beneath me. My hand rubbed his chest as the silence drew out.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  I wished he wouldn’t.

  “Do you not like it or do I not do it right?”

  “Not like what?” Feigning ignorance.

  “You know. The, um, oral thing.”

  “I like it.”

  “So then I don’t do it right.”

  “I didn’t say that.” I scrambled to sit up. This was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid. Damn Nate for a troublemaker. “Nate says—”

  “Nate?” The same anger flashed in his eyes.

  “Stop it.”

  He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He opened them again.

  “What does Nate say?” This time he said ‘Nate’ like any person would say it, like it was just a name. I rewarded him with a smile and a kiss, though his response was lukewarm.

  “He says that every woman is different, and what you learned for one woman might not work for another, so it’s not that you’re bad at it. You just maybe need to get to know me better.”

  He tilted his head at me, considering.

  “Like a route,” I said. “You can’t climb one route with another route’s beta, right?”

  “OK. What’s your beta?”

  “Well, since you ask ...” I grinned at him. “I did want to give you some tips, but I was afraid of hurting your feelings. I mean, it’s not that i
mportant. I love, love, love when you fuck me. And kissing you and touching you and just looking at you. You’re beautiful.” I leaned in and kissed him again. This time he kissed me back. “You don’t have to go down on me.”

  “I want to. I just don’t know how. It’s not you. Emily never liked it either.”

  “Nate would say that was Emily’s fault.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” And now I knew what he meant. Here was Derek, defeated by an unspoken unawareness that he was falling short. Eager to do better, but without any guidance, he could only blame himself. I was failing him. As Emily had failed him. As I’d failed Alex. Shit.

  “My fault.” I left Emily out of it. “You can’t know what I don’t tell you.”

  “So tell me.”

  I lay back into him so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes and did my best to tell him.

  Chapter 19

  “My mom and sister are here tonight,” I warned Nate during intermission. I’d seen them before the show. As the light designer, I was free to mingle with the audience while Nate was safely trapped backstage in his futuristic Zoot suit. But after the show ... I was concerned.

  “Cool,” Nate eyed himself in the makeup mirror. He was practicing debonair grins, trying to find one that didn’t make me giggle.

  “Do you think we could be, um, discreet? I know we have a deal—”

  “Mothers are excluded from that deal.”

  “They are?”

  “Definitely.” He tried another smirk, provoking another giggle. Donna found his Errol Flynn expressions dashing. Maybe I knew him too well.

  “Well, that’s a relief. Thank you.” I tried to rub his back, but the enormous shoulder pads in his costume made it feel like I was massaging a Styrofoam pillow. “Will your mom come see the show?”

  “She was here opening night. She always comes opening night.”

  “Why didn’t you introduce me to her?” I’d certainly been planning to introduce Nate to my family. I just didn’t want him kissing me in front of them.

  “Mothers are excluded.”

  “Nate Abbott. You’re embarrassed.”

  He shrugged.