Wishing on a Blue Star (29 page)

His apartment was dark and cavernous with exposed pipes in the ceiling and wooden floors and those windows that push out to an angle but don’t slide open. The place smelled like sandalwood, and I saw the incense holder above the mantle of his fireplace. I took a deep breath.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to remember the smell of your home.”

He trembled, and I got it, because sometimes it takes me a minute. When I reached for him, I didn’t tear his clothes off; instead, I wrapped him up tight in my arms.

“No, don’t,” he protested, wiggling in my embrace. The lust he could deal with; my desire to hold him was a whole other ball game.

“Baby,” I breathed over his skin, kissing the side of his neck. “It’s okay. I got you.”

And he thawed and melted and was suddenly holding on for dear life. When I was making him an omelet half an hour later, he was quiet, just watching me as I moved around his kitchen and kept up a running monologue. When I got to the stealth mode on my car, he interrupted, laughing.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Sometimes,” I explained, “I accidentally put my car into stealth mode when I’m driving, which is why no can see me and I nearly get killed.”

His eyes were sparkling. “And how do you make your car invisible?”

“I think there’s a button on the dash somewhere or by my gear shift, but the button’s invisible too, so I can’t actually vouch for its whereabouts.”

The laughter that came out of him, husky and deep, was the sweetest thing I had ever heard. He was magic, and I was thoroughly enchanted.

“God, you’re cute,” he said as he wiped his eyes,

“And I’m housebroken,” I assured him gamely.

“Come here and gimme a kiss.”

I shook my head and fed him instead. After our impromptu breakfast for dinner, he washed the dishes while he told me all about being a pilot and how proud his folks were, even though he rarely got to see them. His family lived in Japan, and Tai had dual citizenship, which he enjoyed. When he was almost done with the cleaning up, he ordered me to the couch to wait for him. It was still early, not quite eleven, and I asked him if he wanted to go catch a movie.

He wasn’t talking; instead, he turned off the lights in the kitchen, filled the room with John Coltrane from his very impressive-looking sound system and took a seat beside me. In his bare feet and jeans, tousled hair, and heavy-lidded eyes, he was the picture of heat. When he lunged at me, pushing me down under him on the couch, I didn’t offer any resistance.

“Please.”  His breath caught. “Fuck me.”

The pleading tone, the look I was getting…I was done. Sort of. “How ‘bout I kiss you first?”

I reached up for his face and gently, tenderly drew him down to me. When our lips met, I felt him jolt against me. Apparently, he was not treated to
slow
very often. My tongue pushing for entrance was greedily accepted, and as I tasted him, I felt his swollen groin shoved hard against mine.

Normally, I would have been all hands, but he tasted so good, and my kiss was returned with such ravenous need that I couldn’t wrap my brain around any other desire but the devouring play of tangling my tongue with his. He tasted so good, like beer and salt, and my fingers sank into his hair and held him tight so he couldn’t move.

I kissed him until I could feel my head pounding and had to lift my mouth from his to drag in air.

“You,” he gasped, licking his lips, “come get in my bed and
––
”

“Can’t I just kiss you some more?” I almost whimpered with desire.

His melting eyes got huge. “You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Oh, God, yes.” My breath hitched. “But can you just let me kiss you some more? Please?”

I felt the shudder run through him as he was basically draped over me between my spread legs, pressed so tight that I could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

My fingers massaged his skull, and I leaned him forward.

“Why are you waiting?” he whispered, his lips hovering over mine as we shared breath.

“Because you’re worth it, and why do I have to rush? If I rush, you can make me like everybody else, and that’s not what I want to be.”

“So it’s a game you’re playing.”

“It’s not a game, T. It’s just me showing you that you might be the one, and if you are, I don’t want to mess it up by putting you over the back of this couch.”

“T?” He smiled down at me.

“Shut up,” I sighed, and when he sealed his mouth over mine, I let him feel the whole of what I could provide—the heat, the safety, and the hope. I kissed him with everything I had because my heart had fluttered when I first laid eyes on him and not, I realized, just because he was pretty. I could see plainly that he was what I needed—the movement that I wasn’t capable of alone because I was far too grounded. I was solid and constant; he was like a breath of fresh air. I could be the guy he counted on; he could show me how to truly live. We could balance each other out perfectly, and I wanted him to know it, believe it.

We kissed for hours, and when his lips were swollen and his eyes were flooded with the desire to submit, I got up and walked painfully to the door. I was hard and aching, but I would not screw up my chance for a happily ever after just because I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anyone in my entire life.

“If you leave,” he snarled at me, “I will go downstairs and pick up someone, anyone, to bring back up here and fuck me. Is that what you want?”

Oh, he was mad, and I felt the wave of anticipation roll through me.

“If you think that’s best,” I said, opening the door to leave.

The whimper was good, and he was at the door before I could turn away. My hand was grabbed and then held flat against his heart. His eyes were there when I raised mine to meet them.

I swallowed my worry. “Can I come here tomorrow and pick you up at seven to
––
”

“Yes,” he cut me off. “I’ll be ready at six-thirty, so you better be here.”

“Of course I’ll be here,” I promised him, hand on his cheek as I leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I can barely wait.”

And when I left, I took great satisfaction in hearing the door close and lock and the sound of the deadbolt being turned. He wasn’t going out. He was waiting for me.

I never went back to Matt’s party, even though it was still raging on when I left. Instead, I walked straight passed his apartment and outside to the sidewalk. I was surprised when my phone rang as I started walking home.

“I could drive you,” Tai said, on the other end.

“That’d be dangerous,” I told him.

“Afraid you’ll succumb to temptation?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Let me get my keys.”

I laughed at him and heard him sigh, long and loud.

“I like it when you call me ‘T’ and ‘baby.’“

“That’s lucky, because I don’t plan to stop.”

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

I talked to him all the way home. 

Two

I was there the following night, and the night after that, and the night after that. We dated for a month, and I made certain that I always took him out, treated him right, wined and dined him, and got him home at a decent hour. I kissed him breathless in the car, walked him to his door, and left him panting—and me, barely able to think straight. I wanted to ravish him, but I courted him instead. There was romance instead of fucking, and even though it was killing me to wait, the long unhurried conversations, the laughter, and the slow build of trust were worth it. He liked me; he looked forward to spending time with me; and he enjoyed our talks as much as I did. I listened to him, which was apparently an anomaly, and a quality of mine that moved me to the front of the line. I saw his phone, saw all the missed calls, and watched him delete voicemails without even checking. I really liked his sense of loyalty.

The week before Christmas, I went to pick him up on Friday, and he wasn’t downstairs waiting on the front stoop like he normally did. I called, but there was no answer, so I decided to park and go upstairs. I saw Matt on his way into the building and caught up with him.

“Are you here to see Tai again?” he asked, amazement in his voice.

“Yeah, why?”

“I just don’t
––
I just don’t get it.”

And again, it was my plainness, so I understood his confusion. I was the extra, the guy in the background; there was no way I could get the star. But as I climbed the stairs to Tai’s door, the usual butterflies in my stomach told another story. After I knocked, I heard the yell to come in.

Inside, it was warm, and that was nice because outside, it was December, cold and crisp. I locked the door behind me and found him sitting on the couch in jeans and nothing else. Billie Holiday was crooning softly in the background and my heart hurt just looking at him.

“Are you ready to go?”

He didn’t answer, just stared at me.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“Because I wanted you to come up.”

“Why?”

He cleared his throat. “Come over here, and we’ll decide what we’re gonna eat.”

I shed my leather jacket and scarf and started toward what I had already come to think of as
our
couch. We made out on it a lot. First base was achieved nightly.

When I was close, he slid off the somehow erotic piece of furniture to the floor, spread his legs and patted the space between them.

I gave him a look. “What’re you up to, T?”

“Just get your ass over here,” he said as he graced me with a wicked smile.

“I thought we were gonna eat?”

“Fuck food. Come here.”

The heat in his gaze should have melted me to the floor, as hot as it was. I felt my knees go weak as I moved, momentarily staggering before I sank down onto the area rug in front of him
,
facing away.

“Lean back,” he said gently, and as I reclined against his bare chest I felt his groin pressed against the base of my spine. “Tell me how your day was.”

I tried to think, but he smoothed fingers into my hair, tipped my head back, and pressed his lips to my jaw. “T…”

His left hand combed through my hair over and over, and his right first pulled my dress shirt from my corduroys before going to work on the buttons. He moved deliberately, all the time kissing a line down from my jaw to my shoulder and back. When his tongue traced my earlobe, I jerked in his arms.

“Oh, he likes that,” he said, and his breath down the side of my neck made me shiver with delicious anticipation. “What else can I do to you to get what I want?”

My head fell back on his shoulder, and he bent to lick my throat before he bit me. It felt incredible. “What do you want?”

Instead of an answer, I heard the jingle of my belt buckle, the snap of my pants, and the clicking sound of the zipper as it was lowered. He didn’t bother groping me through my briefs; instead, he slid his hand under the elastic waistband and took hold of my already hardened shaft.

“Mark,” he whispered, sucking my earlobe into his hot, wet mouth as he started to stroke up and down the length. “I want you. Let me have you.”

He turned my head right and kissed me hard, his teeth cutting my lip with the ferocity of the motion. I opened for him, and he moaned into my mouth as he used the precome leaking from my cock to increase the rhythm of his stroking. I bucked up against him, wanting more of his mouth, more of his hand, more of the heat that was rolling off of his smooth skin.

“Please,” he murmured, shifting around, suddenly straddling my thighs, still stroking me. “Let me have you. I want you so fucking bad.”

I had no words. Faced with my fantasy, I was at a loss.

He leaned forward and from under the couch pulled a condom. “I stashed this here a while ago because I wanted to be ready.”

The man had been planning to seduce me. How hot was that?

“Mark. Please.”

“I could suck you off,” I offered, just to make sure.

His whine made me smile.

“T
––
”

“I want you buried to your fuzzy balls in my ass.”

“Fuzzy?” I teased him.

The moan came up out of his chest and was possibly the sexiest thing I had ever heard. When I felt his fingers slide over my testicles, I almost swallowed my tongue.

“No more foreplay. You understand?”

I did.

I saw the predator for a moment as he shucked me out of my pants and underwear, at the same time wriggling out of his, until all I was still wearing was my open shirt. The condom was rolled on with practiced ease, and even though it was lubed, I was still surprised when he lifted up and lowered himself down over me, inch by clenching inch. It felt incredible for me, but I was worried about him.

“What?” He gasped as I fisted his dripping cock in my hand.

“Go slow, baby,” I pleaded, my other hand smoothing over his cheek. “Please.”

“Slow?”

“Yes,” I managed to get out, and my voice sounded strangled, guttural, as he took me inside until he was impaled on the long, hard length of me. 

He was so tight and so hot, and when he rose up only to push back down onto me, I felt the slow sizzling heat start in my balls.

“Ride me,” I ordered him.

He sucked in a hissing breath as I tightened my grip on his leaking cock and began to jerk him off.

“Mark,” he whimpered, “I need hard…and deep. I need
––
I want…”

I knew what he needed. And when I lifted him off me, strong enough to move him, and shoved him face down on the couch, his firm round ass in the air, he cried out in ecstasy.

“Where’s your goddamn lube?”

Beyond words, he pointed at the end table. The top opened up, and I found the tube and had squirted out a generous amount before I returned to him. I slid first one finger and then another into his quivering, greedy hole to loud, lusty cries of pleasure.

“Mark!”

I spread his cheeks and plunged to the hilt in one powerful, hard thrust.

My name had never sounded so good. The man himself felt incredible. Just looking at my dick sliding in and out of him, seeing the perfect ass swallow me, suck me in deep, I was mute. I had an overwhelming urge to bite down in the tender flesh of his shoulder just to leave a mark for everyone to see. I wanted him to be mine.