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Phone Call Part III----Reclaiming

R+?----Keith’s life is full of indecision, introspection and interruptions.  Will this poor guy EVER get it on with his guest?

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You get a tad wasted, become a dumbass because of it, make a call.  You call up the past, not really expecting it to answer.

And my guess is, usually it doesn’t. At best, it gets pissed at you for phoning out of nowhere with a slur in your voice, and hangs the hell up on you.

Well.  My past wasn’t quite your norm, why had I expected the main player in it to behave normally?

My past was in my arms, now as then, though nothing about him seemed the same.  He was no scrawny stick needing my protection; hell no!  He was warm, moist steel in my half-scared embrace. As out of shape as I’d gotten in a couple years doing nothing more physical than grading papers, he could probably kick my ass even without the martial arts I’d taught him. My mouth was sore from that half-brutal kiss, and from his expression I could tell he was about to zero on in for another one.  I was horny and scared both.  I wasn’t ready for all this.

Things were spiraling outta control here.  His eyes seemed almost supernaturally blue in that intensely focused face.  Focused on me, almost hungry, and that thought caused a moment of near-panic. I made a pulling-away move without really meaning to, and verified the suspicion that my former nerd of a student was so much stronger than me it was laughable.

And yipes, if he wasn’t looking a shade angry that I made the aborted move!  Holy hell.

One thing even that young, scrawny Carson had owned was a pretty foul temper.  And now that he had the body to back it up?    I smiled at him apologetically, and a little feebly to tell the truth.  He didn’t smile back.  All right; I was toast.  I was gonna get pummeled by the boy I’d once saved.

Things this dramatic hadn’t happened to me in, oh, five years or so.  My life had become fairly humdrum, and now this all seemed so unreal.  And then with a start of relief I suddenly realized why.

Of course!  I had fallen asleep in the chair beside the phone, the emptied bottle of Jack tumbling from my lap to the floor.  I had picked my way through the bite of my employer’s words, the trip home, the hilarious moment of Lori sputtering her embarrassed ass out the door.  All care of my deluded, drunken, snoozing brain.

And I was now having a frenzied wet dream about Carson. Well, that was cool!  That I could deal with.  It wasn’t the first one I’d ever had since losing him, but in this dream guilt finally wasn’t an issue.

This time, I’d had sense enough to dream him grown up, even mildly scary.

Very scary, I thought, as his eyes narrowed and flashed cobalt lightening.  But now that I knew it was just a hooch-induced dream, I was suddenly so turned on by it my breath nearly stopped.

I think he felt my body change, melt, become ready for him.  That’s what it seemed like on my end, anyway.  Like I could wrap around him with a thought.  From the strange, suddenly intense look in those very blue eyes as he pulled back to study me, I wasn’t sure how he was taking it though.

Now it was my turn to be annoyed at him moving away.  “I thought you were, like, wanting to learn something.”  My hands flowed over the muscular silk of his warm back; he jerked slightly at my touch.  Oh, this was a damn good dream!  Very tactile.  I felt the power-laden flex of his body in my arms.  So different from the small, slim boy I’d always loved and finally wanted.  But my body reacted to him with the same hunger, just minus the guilt.  Minus the dumb idea that I might be taking advantage.

Groovy.

“Like how to kiss.  That’s what I think we need to work on---“ I barely recognized my own damn voice, it was so laden with sex.

I leaned forward just enough to lightly taste the corner of his mouth.  It was cool that we were the same height now.  We’d fit together well, I thought.  The somewhat dirty subtext of that idea sent fire into my blood and the blood right to my dick, and I pushed against him as I gently licked his full lower lip.  I’m the opposite of shy, in my dreams.

Of course this would all end in about five minutes. If I was lucky I’d manage a climax before I woke up. Might even cop a few more kisses before the bitter end.  Sex dreams for me have always usually ended before the sex really got anywhere; it was too big a shock to my system, or something.  This seemed more intense and realistic than my average frustrating experience---and it was following a sequence rather than leaping around which was certainly different.  But I had no doubt of the outcome; in about five minutes or less I’d get too damn excited and wake right the hell up.  Have one hell of an orgasm, but feel bereft, as if I’d missed something important.

The idea had come from nowhere, to take it slowly and gently, see if this would prolong the experience.

Could I have that much control, over a dream?  Well---we’d see.

He pulled in a slow, deep breath.  Quivered, as if mastering himself to exploration rather than attack.  Then very softly whispered into my mouth “Stop thinking you’re dreaming.  I am no dream, Keith.  You will not wake up from this, to your safe dead world.  Not now that I’ve found you.”

I froze just before the act of kissing him.  His voice had barely been a breath, yet I’d heard it all through my body, like the low tone of a bass guitar.  Something you felt in your gut, rather than hearing it audibly.

Almost as if he’d said it in my mind.

“What the fuck?” I breathed back, without meaning to.  And then suddenly – of course! – the moment was shattered by a burst of pounding on the door.

I snarled and waited irritably to wake up without even a glimmer of pleasure, this time. The hammering just got louder.  I expected that.

But the world didn’t melt and reform into me lying in bed and swearing a blue streak at the buttheads interrupting my sleep. The only blue streaks in sight were Carson’s eyes, narrowing in fury as his gaze raked my front door.

Jesus Christ!  It was real!  He was real, hard-on and all!  I was standing in my living room nailed against the wall by my former student!

The shock of reality pushed me sideways, out of his arms, and not entirely in order to answer the door.

He let me go, which I hadn’t really expected.  I hit the low spot under the worn carpet, caught my sneaker in it, and fell inelegantly right on my butt.

I didn’t have too much time to consider what to do.  Carson swooped down on me, eyes blazing.  I can’t even describe to you, the things that were in those eyes.  But I imagined myself stripped, mounted, and taken within a space of seconds.  Hell, I think I even squeaked a little, in anticipation.  I mighta had an “affair” with my drummer, but it wasn’t an all-the-way type of thing.  We’d sorta just gone berserk when a song finally came right between the two of us.  Fallen together, drunk and crazy, high on creation and pot and each other.  Hell, we’d come just holding each other.  Well, holding each others’ dicks was how it ended up of course; a few clumsy gropings and hot kisses and we were gone just from the novelty of it.  And if anything further ever happened---which I’d wanted and turned out Michael didn’t---I’d fondly imagined myself on top at least.

Now, I have to admit I cringed a little.  Okay, I cringed a LOT.  I’d done some hopeful research when I was expecting to keep things going with Mike, so I knew damn well what body part went where.  And judging from what my boy seemed to have, it would be my first and last experience with gay sex, because I would be SO dead after he got through with me.

So reality was freaking me out now, yeh.  My intellect was already anticipating extreme discomfort, and possibly humiliation if I couldn’t keep my reactions to myself.  But there was another, animal part of me that rejoiced, a part that was delighted at the lack of time to think or complain in fear.

I wanted him to take me.  My brain was back there yelling “Danger, Will Robinson!”, but it was losing the race to what my body felt.  I might blame him later, when my fool brain was proven to be right----but now, I can’t tell you how much I wanted him.

And then he spoke softly in that dark, rich voice.  It wasn’t a comment I’d expected.  Not necessarily one I wanted, either.

“Keith.  You haven’t even played a computer game in years, have you?”

I just lay there and totally stared at him.  Well.  That was such a sexy comment, obviously designed to turn me on to the max!  The bastard was loco!

I guess I should have remembered my young student’s habit of blurting out strange, personal questions in the middle of a history lesson.  Although this was kinda the opposite, as in not as personal as I really expected.  Or wanted.  Downright weird, in fact, and related to nothing we were doing so far as I could see.  Unless he wanted me to download his ass and make love with a joystick!

I eyed him suspiciously; my desire chilling quite a few degrees as I realized he must be trying to back out of the whole thing in a roundabout way.  But if so, why crouch over me like this, so close I could feel his warm moist breath on my face?  And even in asking the question his desire hadn’t cooled one bit.  I found myself getting pissed instead of scared, and my mouth accordingly went off by itself.

“What the fuck, Ravenstreet!  How the hell can you ask such a stupid question with a boner like that?  And what does it mean anyway, you wanna play “Mario Brothers” instead of screw?  You came on to me, remember?”

His grip on my shoulders tightened, but he didn’t seem offended at my raving.  In fact his mouth quirked lightly at the corner, and damn if his dick didn’t jerk against me too, as if his whole body enjoyed my pissy attitude.  “I’m sorry,” he said, almost gently.  “But the question isn’t stupid.”

And then came the words that changed everything.  “The magic inside you is starved, Sensei, close to dead.”  He studied me, almost wistfully.  “Don’t you miss it?”

The world seemed to tilt then, to turn strange and distorted.  For a moment, colors that hadn’t been intense enough for a long time seemed to fade even more.  I felt blinded, numb with cold, not so much sick as stunned, as if I must hold off feeling so that grief for the end of everything wouldn’t overwhelm me.

That’s how the Wizard in me had been wakened.  Stupid computer games. The sex had fired it into power, but the computer games had wakened it to begin with. How the hell could I have forgotten, stopped believing?

Therapists.

I understood then, not wanting to understand, where the awful loneliness had come from.  Even in a crowd, in Lori’s arms, in the brief snatches of drunken hilarity with my friends.

I was dead inside and hadn’t even known it.

I made a sound that frightened me, too raw to be human.  Carson pulled me up and into his arms with no effort.  Embraced me strongly, and this time there was more than just sex in it.  “I---I---what makes you think I can afford a computer on my salary?  And the school ones don’t have---I didn’t let it go on purpose!”  My attempt to act cool, pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about was ruined by that remark, I hadn’t even intended to say it.

Whoever was pounding on the door had taken a break or actually given up.  I was glad for that.  I became aware I was shaking in his arms, our roles reversed now, him softly comforting me.  ‘It was too hard without you, dammit!  And after awhile----it just didn’t seem to---matter----“

“It matters,” he said very softly indeed.  “And I didn’t say it was too late, did I?”

He kissed me.  It was the sweetest, softest, most cherishing kiss I’ve ever received from anyone, man or woman, lover or friend.  And it melted so much of the ice around my heart----

Stirred some fire inside me, that I thought had fallen to ashes years ago----

I’d never be safe again.

Thank God.

He pulled back finally, with a last taste that I managed to prolong a little by nibbling that lush mouth just before the release. We studied each other half-shyly, as if meeting for the first time and feeling a spark jump without knowing why.

Lightning magic.  It felt good.

But “shy” couldn’t cling to that cold, slightly arrogant face for long.  Something else replaced it, as he reached out to lightly brush my cheek with his fingertips.  It was hunger, but not mindless. An intelligent hunger?  Great concept.  The difference between lust and desire became clear to me in one sharp instant.

The difference between mundane and magic.

“Your eyes are turning green,” he whispered, as if imparting a secret.

“I know,” I answered, simply.

I did know.  I could feel it happening.  And how strange and terrifying and wonderful it was to feel magic waken inside me again, flex and stretch like a beast after a long hibernation.

“You did this to me, young creep,” I remarked in an almost conversational tone.
I wasn’t afraid of what was happening anymore.  I realized with some amusement that this fact kinda scared me.

He looked pleased at my comment, and very smug.  But he remained silent, though his eyes glittered.  I understood that it was my play.

I’d only used this shimmering hot thing inside me once before, to defend him.  And now there was nothing attacking us, so what other use could it have?

I thought I knew the answer to that.