A Story for Mikie

By Viv

Email Codey’s World

This story involves sexual contact and male/male relationships. If you find this offensive or are not of legal age, or if this content is illegal in your area, you should leave.

This story is property of the author and is not to be copied or posted elsewhere without written permission of the author. All characters and plot lines are fictional. Any resemblance is strictly coincidental and should be noted as such.

Have fun, and happy reading!! Feedback is always appreciated.

A Story for Mikie

It was Thursday, and Thursdays were beef stew day in the cafeteria and library day, Thursdays were mile day and music day, and Thursdays... were my favorite. They weren't Mondays or Tuesdays when I felt the ease of the weekend being ripped away from me or when I realized that my next weekend was still three days away, and they weren't Fridays when we had tests and we turned in homework. The days were pretty structured here, keeping the approximately two hundred of us where we were supposed to be, when we were supposed to be there, while keeping the curriculum in place. Honestly though, we were probably better educated than most of the kids at my brother's school just up the road.

His school had five times as many students as mine did, and dances, and major athletic competitions, and all the trends and cliques and bullshit that goes along with every high school, well almost every one. I suppose in its own way, even mine did, but I refused to get swept up in it. It was pretty easy for me to ignore the gossip and keep to myself, being unable to hear what people said about you sort of made it possible. Although, with only two hundred kids in the school, whatever rumors or gossip there were, they had a tendency to spread quickly enough anyway.

Sometimes I hated not being able to hear, I used to wonder when I was a kid what things sounded like, like raindrops falling or a wave crashing onto the shore at the beach near our house, but as I got older, I didn't wonder so much anymore. I learned to appreciate the things I noticed that it seems most everyone else missed, like the way a raindrop feels when it lands on the back of your neck when you aren't expecting it, or how when it lands on the windshield of your car and rolls down, how it doesn't roll straight down, but instead, follows some predetermined path laid out for it by it's predecessors.

I guess I would miss it more if I had been able to hear and then had lost the ability to do so, but that wasn't the case. I was born this way, and as confusing as it was, as frustrating as it was to live like this at times, it was a part of what made me who I was. I managed, usually with the help of my brother, and I had my ways of communicating, but having him along to do the talking made things a lot easier for me.

I think my favorite part though, is when people realize I'm deaf, they just yell at you instead, as if that's going to help somehow, and even though I can't actually hear it, I can see them straining to speak louder. Robbie always gets pissed at them for being so insensitive, but I think it's funny. I always just roll my eyes as I watch him lecture them, and sometimes I let him too, but usually I stop him before he really gets going, and he always says, "Nathan, you don't have to let them talk to you like that," but that doesn't get me my burger and fries any faster, you know?

So Thursdays... the day before the day before my weekends, the day I get to run for six and a half minutes and just feel my feet springing against the rubber and my heart beating inside my chest, my leg muscles warm and fluid, the air tacky against my sweaty face. The day I get to peruse the books in the library, looking for one I haven't yet read... at least twice, something that catches my eye, provoking my interest enough to make me reach out and pluck it from the shelf.

It was only our first week back to school since winter break, and I suppose we were all grumbling about having to get back into the normal routine, but I was definitely grateful when lunchtime rolled around. Warming yourself from the inside out is a good way to heat up quickly, and it was just what I needed today. Januarys are always cold here, but this morning it was pretty blustery, the air being chilled even more by our close proximity to the ocean, and I allowed the savory beef stew to penetrate my senses, the aroma meaty and strong, the texture hearty and thick, as I spooned another bite into my mouth, and let it warm me as it traveled to my stomach making me comfortably full.

I was just about finished with my lunch, and chapter four of the book I had just started reading since I picked it up at the library two hours ago, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I pulled my attention away from the words that spelled out a story in front of me to find out who was disturbing me and why, only to be greeted with Beth's soft smile as it graced her gentle face.

Beth was sweet, and I say that genuinely, because it's true. At first, I thought she was almost patronizing in the way that she seemed to always be looking out for me, but now I knew, she was genuinely a great person who really did care, and she wanted to see me happy. When I first started here, it was because my parents thought it would be easier for me to be in a smaller school, being deaf, and I suppose they were right. I didn't know it then, and I'll admit that I was more than a little angry at them for hindering my high school experience, or so I thought, but after hearing some of Robbie's stories, I decided I was glad I was at this school and not the one just up the road.

"Hi Nathan," she said waving, and I appreciated the gesture.

I waved In return, adding a smile, as she pointed at the flashing light above the door to the cafeteria and it was then that I noticed the few kids left in the cafeteria heading for the door.

I wondered what was going on, and Beth answered my unasked question. "A blizzard is coming in quickly and they're sending us home now. No school tomorrow either," she added with a smile.

Beth had learned some signing in the past few years, but she knew I could read lips, and so she opted for that. I remember the day she came to school, having taught herself the alphabet and a few common signs, like 'thank you' and 'I love you' and I remember feeling almost put out by that fact, until I realized that she just want to be able to talk to me, and so slowly, I taught her some more. Sometimes it was fun to be able to talk and have other people not know what was being said, but now was apparently not the time for that.

I shoved my book into my backpack and walked with Beth to the door. "I have to hurry and catch the bus Nathan," she said. "Be careful walking home okay?" she requested, and I nodded, my fingertips to my chin and then out toward her saying thank you, before I tossed a wave over my shoulder at her.

There was no doubt about it, the storm was coming, and coming quickly, the way the frigid air was stinging my face and wisping around me. It was about a twenty minute walk home, and normally I enjoyed the time, watching people, cars, kids, birds, whatever it was that I saw, but today, I decided to hurry in favor of the warmth and safety my house offered. I suppose I could have waited for Robbie, but finding him and his car in the mess I was sure his school would be, didn't appeal to me at all.

I hunched down into my heavy coat, my scarf wrapped around my neck, and pulled my hat and gloves on, my feeble attempt almost enough to be successful at keeping me warm, and started walking. The snow had already begun to fall, layering the ground with a thin coating of white powder, the muddy footprints like a trail to follow, each with a different design from its' owners tread, a different size and depth from their steps. Shallow, dainty ones, likely from girls tip-toeing through it, too deep, heavier footed steps from the boys rough housing in the new snow.

It was slippery, but not yet thick enough to give way beneath my feet as I walked along, the heat and moisture from my breath erupting in little clouds in front of my face. The wind had picked up speed since this morning and was rather harshly whipping flakes of snow around, and I watched as they swirled around me and the nearby tree trunks, before finally clinging to something permanently.

The air smelled clean and fresh, and I was sniffling, the cold air always made my nose run. I tugged on my scarf, loosening it just enough so that I could pull it up over my nose and mouth, warming my face and the air I was breathing in. Have you ever noticed how different the air smells when the sky is a bright blue, than it does when it's a pale dingy grey like it is now? Like in the summertime, when people are barbecuing and the pools are being used, chlorine and smoke, and the smell of the ocean blowing off the water and inland, or in the spring, when the fresh cut grass and the blooming flowers are fragrant and overpower your senses, but now, it was a pure, flawless scent, and the barren tree branches, their bark wet and dark now, stood out against the dreary, uninteresting sky.

No puffy clouds floating across the sky, waiting to be made into some child's summer afternoon game or some lovers' scenery in a park, no bright sun inviting the birds to come out and the flowers to stand tall at attention, instead it was growing darker and the wind heavier, stronger, as it pressed against me. Up ahead, I saw a group of guys, most likely from Robbie's school, running around and enjoying their chance to taunt and torment each other with the threat of being pummeled with snow balls.

They scurried and slid back and forth, trying not to be hit, while at the same time, trying to collect enough snow and pack it just so, until it made the perfect snowball, ready to be launched at the next unsuspecting victim. I could see them laughing, their surprised looks when they were the ones suddenly attacked, their pointing fingers as they plotted against each other, how they jumped on one another in a way that made it seem almost as if dominance was being decided here today, this snowy afternoon on Walnut Road.

I smiled underneath my scarf, though they wouldn't see it, hell, they probably didn't even see me, I decided, as I trudged onward. Perhaps I was wrong, perchance I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, dumb luck maybe, who knows, but what I did know was that I had become that next unsuspecting victim, my presence being realized likely due to the guy who had taken cover behind my tall, innocent frame. His hands pressed against my back, his fingers clinging tightly to my coat as he tried to steer me one direction and then another, using my body to shield his own from the onslaught of snow.

I ducked, crunching down trying to protect myself as much as possible from the cold ice that was racing toward me from all different directions at the same time, and all at once, his effort to shift my position, and my defenses reacting in a way meant to protect myself collided, leaving us disoriented and slumped on the ground, the air whooshing out of my chest as he landed roughly on top of me.

His friends rejoiced in their victory, probably hooting and hollering as boys do, as they ran off toward their warm homes. I lifted my head, watching their retreat, their bodies becoming fainter and fainter still, until I couldn't see them at all anymore, and then I dropped my head back onto the snow covered ground. When I opened my eyes again, it wasn't the weight of his body still on top of mine, or the cold of the ground seeping into my jeans that I noticed, it was his eyes, the deep blue that they were, so deep, they were almost grey.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, and I imagined his voice being wonderful, although I heard none of it. His concern was slight; I could see it in his eyes as he waited for a response from me.

I only nodded faintly, not in any rush to try and get up just yet, and rather enjoying the intensity of the gaze he was giving me. I don't know how much time passed, it could have been forever for all I cared, the way his eyes were looking into mine, really trying to see me, when I think it finally occurred to him that he was still lying on top of me.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, realizing how close we were still. "Here, let me help you up." He pushed himself up to a sitting position, his knees intertwined with mine, as he let his weight rest gently down onto my lap.

I attempted to sit up some, but ended up reclining on my elbows instead, watching him and the fascinated look that he was wearing. I wondered if he had some sort of short attention span, or if I even cared, he was watching me and interestingly, that was fun enough. Eventually though, I just held my hands out and he grabbed onto them, trying to pull me up, while standing himself.

We weren't upright for more than a second before he started brushing the snow off his knees and then walking around behind me to take survey of the condition my own clothes were in, his hands brushing off my shoulders in long, articulate strokes. I stood still, appreciating his efforts, and the strength of his hands guiding the snow off my coat, that is until he took hold of my hip, surprising me.

It must have been the way I suddenly jerked my head around to see what he was doing that threw him off balance, but before I knew what was happening, we were on the ground all over again, this time not as nicely situated, but instead, a tangle of arms and legs sprawling atop the white blanket that covered the ground. His chest heaved, his breath huffed out past my neck feeling considerably warmer than the air outside, and this time, I was the first one to get up, cold enough now to be motivated to hurry home.

It was my turn to extend a helping hand to him, or hands as the case was, since he was comparable to my own size. The ground was slippery, icy now, as the wind rushed past the snow our bodies had heated just enough to make it consider melting, and then he stood, but only momentarily before he crumbled, his body attempting to go down again, and instinctively, I reached out and caught him, holding his body against mine till he had his balance. Once more, when he seemed settled, balanced, he looked at me, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly as mine held his waist in a similar fashion.

"Thanks," he finally said, but then I watched as his face contorted into something that looked tight and painful, his eyes squeezing shut tightly, and the way his bit down on his bottom lip in a way that clearly wasn't meant to be gentle, all seemed to coincide with what he said next. "Fuck!" he seemed to say in a much more aggressive manor before I watched as he looked down at his ankle, apparently trying to test out its' capacity as he lifted his foot off the ground slightly, rolling it around gently before letting out what I could only guess was a yelp. That didn't seem like a good sign to me, I decided, as I watched him evaluate his situation further.

He finally looked up at me again when I gently squeezed his waist where my hands still were helping to hold him upright. "I don't think it's broken, but I don't think I can walk on it either," he decided, testing it again by applying a small amount of weight to it once more, flinching in the process.

Well, if that was the case, I had to help him. I couldn't just leave him out here to freeze, that was for sure, so after hardly any debate at all, I shifted so his left side, my arm sliding along his waistline until it reached his other side, allowing me the option to offer some real support. Without question, he threw his arm over my shoulder, and we began to move forward, slowly.

We hobbled on like that, like some injured animal needing to lick its wounds once it got to safety, I didn't mind much though, except for the cold, and being so close to his warm body seemed to make up for my inability to move as quickly as I normally could.

I tried to keep a lookout to see if he was talking to me, watching for his lips to move, but that was a challenge combined with holding him up, not falling myself, and maintaining a continuous momentum toward home. I suspect he must have noticed an absurd amount of wayward glances in his direction, but if he did, he didn't say anything about it, at least that I saw anyway.

What should have been a twenty minute walk home, turned into forty-five, and he was steadily shivering against me by that time, and I suppose, I against him as well, but after a few questioning looks at major intersections and some guidance from him, we made it to his house. Once inside the door, we both managed to collapse onto the couch, enjoying the protection and warmth the house offered us from the blizzard that was raging outside now.

After a few minutes of rest and warmth he finally looked over at me. I had been watching him steadily since we walked in the door and I plopped his body down onto the couch next to mine, not wanting to miss a word, deciding this was going to be awkward enough as it was.

"You don't say much, do you?" he pointed out more so than asking. I just shrugged half-heartedly; I said plenty when there was someone who could hear me.

"Well, I'm Andy," he offered and I smiled at him.

Andy... the name seemed to suit him, though I wasn't exactly sure how. I didn't know any Andy's, so it's not like I had anyone to compare him too, but that didn't matter, maybe, I thought, that meant he was indefinable. Not totally obscure was he though, I mean, I knew he had shaggy brown hair under that hat he had been wearing, and I thought it was far too cute the way his ears seemed to peek out from underneath that same hair, and I decided that I wouldn't be too let down if his lips didn't stay that inviting red color that they were now, only complimenting his flushed cheeks as they glowed in this new warmth.

Andy, I mulled over in the back of my mind as I decided to go for it, hoping it wouldn't turn into some horribly pathetic situation. It's happened before so...

'I'm Nathan', I signed, waiting for his reaction, and then I waited some more, until it was clear he didn't understand. He didn't understand that it was my name, and of course, I suppose when you meet a deaf person for the first time, someone who 'doesn't say much', it would be awkward trying to understand what they were saying.

I closed the small space that remained on the couch between us as I took off my gloves. I took his hand in mine, removing his glove also, and placing his hand in my palm, face up. He looked expectantly at me, confused as to the point of all this, and probably wondering why some strange boy was holding his hand on his couch in the middle of a snowstorm, but I just smiled at him as I traced the letters N-A-T-H-A-N into his palm, his fingers reflexively curling up when it tickled.

I looked up at him, and if he wasn't confused before, he definitely was now. I did it again, N-A-T-H-A-N, and then I placed his hand on my lap and signed it again, 'I'm Nathan'.

He raised his brow in confusion, trying to put the pieces together in his head. I took his hand again, this time tracing A-N-D-Y and then I pointed at him, my fingertip just touching his chest. N-A-T-H-A-N, and I laid my palm on my chest. He seemed intrigued now, trying to figure out the game, solve the puzzle, so I repeated the same action, this time with his eyes concentrating carefully on the shapes I was drawing into his palm.

A-N-D-Y, and I indicated that was his collection of shapes, followed by N-A-T-H-A-N for me.

"Okay wait, do it again," he asked looking up at me only long enough to say that, his eyes focusing again on his palm which felt warm in my hand now.

I pointed to him, A-N-D-Y, and he said, "Right, I'm Andy." I smiled mischievously at him, finally figuring it out, as he waited, focused on the next letters.

Again, my palm to my chest, and this time he said the letters out loud. N-A-T-H-A-N.

"Nathan?" he confirmed? "You're name is Nathan?"

I nodded, smiling. That could have gone so much worse, I thought to myself, but I knew what came next, same as always.

"You can't talk?" he wondered aloud, but really, he wanted some sort of confirmation to his question.

"I can," I mumbled out, a phrase I had practiced enough to know he would understand it, as I touched my ears, hoping he would put it together finally.

"You can't hear anything at all?" he asked in disbelief.

I shook my head no.

"But you really know what I'm saying?" he wondered aloud again.

I touched his lips gently with my fingertips.

"Ohhhh! Right, I forgot," he said a bit excited as all the pieces finally fell into place for him. "Wow. That's actually pretty cool," he decided aloud before getting up off the couch and hobbling off somewhere.

I wondered where he was off to; until I saw him pick up the phone I hadn't heard ringing. From what I could see, it was his mom, and she was stuck in the city at work because of the blizzard and wanted to make sure Andy had made it home safely.

When he finally hung up, he looked over at me again, and then after some thought, seemed to be looking around for something. He apparently found it and returned to the couch to sit next to me, accompanied by a pad of paper and a pencil. I smiled at him. At least he was clever and he was trying, I decided I liked that.

"So, it looks like you're going to be stuck here for a while. Should I call someone for you?" he asked me.

I took the pencil and scrawled out Robbie Peterson and our home phone number, handing him the pad back.

"Robbie Peterson... That name sounds familiar," Andy decided as he read off what I had written down. "So you want me to call him?" he asked.

Again I nodded, and again he hobbled over to the phone, still favoring his hurt ankle. Checking the number on the pad, he lifted the phone and dialed, before turning around and leaning against the desk the phone was on.

"Hi, can I speak to Robbie Peterson please?" Andy asked. "Oh, okay, my name is Andy Freemont, and I got your number from someone named Nathan," he said as he smiled up at me.

"Yeah, he's fine," Andy said, and from the look on his face, I could guess that Robbie was probably panicked, wondering where I was, and what had happened to me in the blizzard.

"Yeah, I go there," I watched Andy's lips say. "Oh yeah, I know who you are," he continued, listening as Robbie tried to sort this all out.

"Well see, me and the guys were messing around on the way home, snowballs and shit, and I slipped and fell. I hurt my ankle, and Nathan helped me get home since I couldn't walk on it," he explained.

"Yeah, I know, it's snowing like crazy out there," he seemed to agree with whatever Robbie was saying.

"Yeah, it's cool, he can stay here until the storm passes," he said, his smile shy now, his cheeks slightly pink, though not from the cold this time, and I wondered if he noticed how intently I was watching him now.

"Yeah, we'll be fine. We got this far, didn't we?" he grinned, seemingly proud of himself.

"I will... bye," Andy told Robbie and then hung up.

Andy had been watching me attentively throughout his phone call, but now that he had hung up, he seemed to be trying to figure out what came next. He scanned the living room, his eyes glancing around from place to place as if he was waiting for an idea to come right out and grab him, and then it did, and he grabbed me. Well, not exactly. First he had to hobble over to where I was still sitting on the couch, and then he held out his hand and I reached out and grabbed it as he pulled me up off the couch.

"Come on, I have an idea," he said as he turned and headed towards the hallway we had passed on the way in, his hand only twisting in mine as he turned around, but never letting go of it.

He turned back once, I think just to smile at me, because he knew I was following him since he still had my hand in his. I didn't mind though, grinning right back at him, and I was pretty sure that my stomach fluttered just a little when he squeezed my hand. It was quick, and only temporary, but I felt it, and I bit down on my bottom lip in an effort to suppress the smile that was threatening to give way.

We made it to what I assumed was his room, the clothes strewn about like most teenage boys have in their room, and posters of various sports teams hung on the walls giving me some confirmation. He seemed a bit frazzled, darting around from place to place, picking up clothes and magazines, and making a quick attempt to make his bed before he noticed I was still standing just inside the doorway watching him. It was pretty cute, I decided, that he was trying to make things tidy for me, and I smiled at him.

"Come sit down Nathan," he invited me with a laugh. "You don't have to stand in the doorway."

I suppose saying I wished I could have heard it would be redundant, but at that moment, the way the lines that framed his smiling eyes were fascinating me, I wondered if there was a sound he could make that I wouldn't like. I walked over and took a seat on the edge of his bed as he continued to wander around a bit longer, and it made me wonder if he was nervous, since it was clear he wasn't exactly meticulous when it came to order and cleanliness in his room.

It was hard to decide if I liked that he was nervous, or if I wanted him to be comfortable around me. It was obvious to me, the way he seemed to be spending time doing mundane things, like straightening a stack of CD's, but I wanted him to relax I decided, grabbing his hand as he walked past and pulling him down next to me. In front of us was a TV, his game controllers spread across the floor like they were the only remnants of some fierce battle that had played out here previously, and I slid down the edge of the bed till my butt hit the ground, looking up at him expectantly.

"You want to play?" Andy asked me, and I nodded in agreement as I reached for a controller, smiling, while he walked over and turned the TV and the game system, grabbing the other controller and sitting down next to me.

He navigated through the menus until it was my turn to do the same, deciding on which character and which setting we wanted. I thought it might be fun to try and get Andy to experience things like I did, so I crawled over to the TV and after finding the volume button, I turned down the volume so it was silent. When I turned my head back to see what Andy thought of that, he wasn't wondering what I was doing or watching the TV, but instead, I found him looking at my ass. I slowly moved back to my spot on the floor and when my eyes finally met Andy's again, he was slightly blushing, and I found that appealing.

We played for a while, racing each other around some crazy shaped racetrack, taking turns winning and losing, bumping shoulders back and forth, laughing and smiling, each taking our victories and defeats in stride. At one point, we were waiting for the next race to start, and as the light flipped from red to green and the girl holding the checkered flag waved it down and the word 'GO!' flashed across the screen, I took off. It took a few seconds for me to realize that he wasn't moving, but when I did, I turned and looked at him, realizing he was clearly looking right back at me.

Almost shyly, as his smile started to appear, unstoppable and determined, his eyes darted over my shoulder in a brief escape from the strength of the emotions he was feeling, but then his eyes returned to mine, and this time, he allowed them to linger as he cocked his head sideways subtly. I blushed softly under his appraising gaze, my eyes dropping to where my fingers were toying with the cord from the controller that sat in my lap, a thing I never allowed myself to do for fear of missing something, and then, when I had collected enough courage of my own, I looked up at him from under the long lashes I had been hiding behind, and as if I could have stopped it, a gentle smile spread across my lips.

We just sat there for a few moments, really looking at one another, before I felt his fingers against the side of my leg where it rested on the floor, and I moved mine to meet them. His smile gave him away as his gaze traveled from my eyes to where he could see his fingers encircled in mine, a look of hope crossing my face, or maybe it was his, it was hard to tell anymore. He wasn't so much uncertain of his feelings, as he was shy, or scared to allow himself to act on them, but I knew.

I had known since he landed on top of me hours ago in the snow. He was just as attracted to me, as I was to him, and I was beginning to wish he would do something besides stare at my lips longingly, as if they were the thing he needed to feel quenched and alive. I wished he would use them to extinguish whatever spark of fear he had, to satisfy his wants, they would be willing participants.

I slowly tipped my head in the opposite direction as I turned slightly to face him, my tongue flicking out over my lips momentarily, my lips feeling so much drier than the inside of my mouth that was just waiting for his. I watched him as he watched my lips, and my tongue, as it played across them only for a second, and I saw his chest rise up as he inhaled sharply, biting down on his own lip in an effort to suppress his instinct. It was as though everything moved in slow motion, frame by frame, as he looked down again at our hands and I squeezed his gently, telling him that I knew he was looking and that I understood. I knew what he was thinking, and then as his chin slowly raised up again, allowing his eyes to meet mine; they only found that mine were closing as my lips brushed his.

Perhaps he was caught off guard or maybe he was scared, but it didn't take him long to react, squeezing my hand in return before he dropped it, his hand sliding up my arm and over my shoulder until his fingertips ran along my jaw bone and slid up into the hair that rested on the nape of my neck. I shuddered, the feeling fantastic, and like nothing I had felt before as his fingers massaged into my scalp and he pulled my mouth tighter against his.

Instinctive, erotic, the way his mouth moved with mine, and as if I had any idea what I was doing, I leaned into him until his back met the soft, plush carpet that covered his bedroom floor. My knees separated by one of his, and his other hand asking me to come closer still with the pressure it was applying to my lower back as he pulled my body tighter against his. I felt his chest raise harshly, likely a reaction to the same sensation that practically forced me to pull my lips from his as I inhaled sharply, gasping from the feeling.

I knew I was hard, I had been struggling to hide that fact from him since I had seen him looking at my ass earlier, but as my erection pressed painfully against the inside of my jeans, and then into his, we both reacted instinctively, arching against one another in some sort of exquisite bliss. I think he was as surprised as I was, the feeling of his dick pressing into mine, sliding alongside mine was so much better than I had ever imagined it would be.

I think I was almost as excited though; that his body was reacting to mine the same way mine was being affected by his, and our surprise at that fact only lasted momentarily as we both decided silently that the added friction continually created sensations we wanted more of. I watched his face with eagerness, wanting to see him uninhibited and reactive, as I slid against him again, his fingers tightening against my back, grasping at my shirt. His back arched up again instinctively, pressing his own thickness into mine even further as he sucked in a breath, and I watched as his eyes fluttered closed in ecstatic pleasure.

It was addictive, being able to make someone feel so strongly that their fundamental instincts take over their physical reactions, and I savored the idea fleetingly before I mimicked the same action again, eliciting another stimulating response from him. His lips parting just enough to take in a shallow breath and his head rolled back, exposing the unexplored skin on his neck, and encouraging me, inviting me to do just that.

His skin tasted almost as sweet as his lips did, I decided, as my tongue and lips made their way from behind his ear and along his jaw line until I found his mouth again, tempting and open. His fingers were doing this dance up and down my back, clenching and then releasing, sliding up or down, and then clenching again, each time I pressed into him.

He was steadily meeting my advances, rhythmically now; his hips lifting off the ground to meet mine, his breaths hurried as the sensations intensified inside him, and then gratifyingly, pleasantly, his hands fisted the cotton of my shirt and his back arched. His eyes stuck shut in intense pleasure, his breaths still now; he looked beautiful to me in that moment as he came, an amazing look of pleasure and relief and ecstasy washing over him.

Pleasure and relief and ecstasy, until he opened his eyes and saw me watching him, his face contorting into one of uncertainty and worry and embarrassment and I wondered how he could change from one extreme to another with such quickness. This new look was one I didn't take pleasure in, I thought he was enjoying himself, lost in the same feelings I was, and now, he looked... almost guilty and I frowned in response to that.

Suddenly being perched over him seemed an awkward place to be, and I rolled over, landing gently next to him on the carpeted floor. The wet spot seeping through the front of his jeans wasn't lost on me as I moved away, and it confused me, that being the desired outcome, or at least I had assumed it was, and I was unsure why that upset him so much. I threw my arm over my eyes, looking for a momentary escape from the confusion and the disarray my head had become, the state of my own erection much harder to forget.

After a minute or two, I felt a gentle tugging on my sleeve, and while I tried to decide if I wanted to ignore it, knowing that wouldn't really help things, I guess Andy got impatient, because the next thing I felt was his lips brushing mine. Gentle, investigative, cautious, but when I lifted my arm, he was looking right at me, his eyes curious, apologetic, exploratory, wonderfully deep blue as they had been the first time I looked into them.

He pulled his soft lips from mine, stealing away his light kiss once more to say, "I'm sorry Nathan."

Somehow, I thought, those weren't the words I had been hoping to hear him say, and I pressed my finger against his lips in an effort to silence him from making any more apologies for something I had wanted and taken pleasure in. It wasn't something to be sorry about I decided, and then I kissed him again, this time watching him, our eyes communicating silently for us, and when I saw relief and a smile behind his, mine fluttered closed again, pulling him over me this time.

When he pulled his lips from mine finally, it was only because he wanted to make sure I was okay with what he planned to do next, and I watched with anticipation as his hands slid slowly down from my chest to where the button on my jeans was, and as if he needed some reassurance, he pulled his eyes from the small obstacle to ask me, "Are you sure this is okay?"

All I could do was nod in response, and then with a glimmer of mischief in my eyes, I grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly into my own erection, hopefully making it quite clear this was more than acceptable. The subtle pink that flushed his cheeks didn't escape my attentive eyes and provoked a smile as he looked down at me from where he was seated in my lap. The last thing I saw as his head disappeared into my lap was the snow, flurrying outside his window, carefree and swirling like the feelings he was creating in me.

© 2006 Viv