The concern in his tone, the way he could tell Wes cared, was so satisfying because that was what he would need if they were to follow through with theirdesire.
“Yes. I’m sorry. It’s been awhile…”
“Since you’ve messed around?” Wes asked, soundingsuspicious.
“No, not that. Just since…I’ve felt anything likethis.”
“I feel it too. Art, I’m so out of my depth with what’s happening between us.” Wes rested the backs of his fingers against the side of Art’s face, and that touch felt so good, so right as Wes ran them from Art’s temple to hischeek.
But as much as it was clear that Wes wanted him in that moment, Art couldn’t still the nervousness within him. “I don’t know that you’re going to enjoy this,” Art said. “This isn’t the body of the kid youknew.”
“Doesmybody repulse you now?” Wesasked.
“Of coursenot.”
“Then I can’t imagine why you think I would react any differently toyours.”
As he spoke, his words slammed against the back of Art’s neck, soothing him, reminding him that Wes wouldn’t judge him or mock him, or find him so repulsive that he wouldn’t be able to stomach touchinghim.
“Maybe if I keep telling you how beautiful you are, I can chase away all your worries,” Wes said as he continued caressing beneath Art’sshirt.
The intense energy that had seized control of Art’s body amplified, pulsing from his core to his now tingling fingertips. He tilted his head back as if by some latent instinct Wes had awoken, and Wes took advantage of the opportunity, kissing along his neck, his tongue sliding across Art’s skin. His hands slid down and maneuvered beneath the waistband of his pants and briefs. With that, Art knew, no matter how worried he may have been, he wouldn’t be able to resistWes.
Hecouldn’t.
It wasn’t just about reaching the satisfaction he’d shared with others before. It was about intimacy. It was agreeing to be vulnerable, even after having criticized his younger self for allowing himself to be hurt again and again by so many. Art knew what a broken heart felt like, and he feared if anyone could break his, it was Wes, but he’d come too far—needed it too much—to turnback.
Wes pulled down the collar of Art’s polo and kissed down toward his shoulder. When he ceased for a moment, Art begged, “Please don’tstop.”
Wes grabbed Art’s hip and tugged gently, moving back to allow Art to turn tohim.
Art’s gaze fixated on Wes’s lips, needing another kiss to sate this painful pining within him, but Wes took Art’s hand and said, “Let’s go to thebedroom.”
Art led the way, thinking about his past sexual encounters—fumbling to get out of clothes, trying to get into a rhythm with his partner, struggling against all sorts of anxiety to not become so overwhelmed as to take the fun out ofit.
When they were facing each other in the bedroom, he waited for Wes to end his agony, to kiss his lips and help pull him away from all his worry. Instead, Wes released his hand, grabbed the hem of his own shirt, and pulled it off over his head. He kicked off his shoes and then removed his pants with hisboxers.
He stood before Art, stark naked. His lengthy erection revealed his interest. He made his way toward Art slowly, gazing at him with nothing but appreciation in his eyes. “Now it’s your turn,” hesaid.
Art had hoped he might be able to sneak under the covers, but after Wes’s display, he felt he had to reciprocate. He stripped down, avoiding eye contact because he couldn’t bear to see Wes cringe or disapprove. It would make it difficult for him to follow through. Yet as Art left his clothes by his side, Wes was still there. He hadn’t run. He hadn’t made a discouragingsound.
His hand reached for Art’s face just under his chin as he encouraged him to look up. In his expression, Art didn’t see any judgment or uneasiness, any regret for being in that moment, with Art completely exposed in the daylight that poured through thewindow.
“Now…let me show you how I see you,” Wes said. He stepped forward, offering another kiss, pulling their bodies flush with oneanother.
Finally, Art had hisescape.
That chemistry that ignited when they kissed was so explosive that Art was lost in the sensations roused withinhim.
It was apparent that Wes didn’t care about how he looked, and just wanted to be, not with the boy he’d met when they were kids, but with the man he’d become, just like Art wanted to be with this Wes, the Wes whose tongue pushed past his lips with such ease, who guided him toward the bed like a man who had taken the lead on so many other occasions. He was clearly a man with such experience that he could be trusted with giving Art all the satisfaction his body so desperatelycraved.
They kissed and made their way onto the bed, and soon Wes lay on top of Art, guiding the way as Art let go more andmore.
It felt as though he was slipping throughtime.
They grabbed condoms and lube from the nightstand and worked together, clawing at each other’s bodies like Art couldn’t remember doing since he was first discovering what it was like to be withmen.
As they kissed and breathed with one another, their arousal climbing, Art lost track of where they were. Even the inconveniences of their sex were diffused with humor. And as they vacillated between amusement, tenderness, and passion, time became irrelevant as Art felt himself moving through each period of his life. He was a fragile teenager discovering his sexuality for the first time. The twentysomething desperate to figure out who he was. The confident man in his thirties, using his skills and proficiency to offer all he could. On and on he went through each decade of his life as he and Wes displayed the knowledge they had acquired throughout their lives, Wes revealing all his expertise and complimenting Art on his own abilities. Sensations Art believed long left behind returned with a fiery intensity, leaving Art’s fingertips buzzing withexcitement.
