“You should hang out with us more often, Henri,” Bruno said while you squeezed my knee and slid your palm so far up my thigh it bordered on indecent.
You shot a look at Bruno. “Henri and I are going back to the apartment for a while. Maybe you and Tyrell could…” You raised an eyebrow.
Bruno smiled knowingly, and Tyrell shook his head in mock disapproval. “Yeah, he can come over to my house. I got some new games for my Sega. Just page me when you two are finished, and I’ll drop him off.”
“I’ll never be finished with him.” My hand closed around the back of your neck like a collar and rested there. I liked seeing my fingers curve around your throat. My satisfaction was not in overpowering you but in practicing restraint.
You laughed and elbowed me lightly in the ribs while Tyrell pretended to gag and Bruno let out a long, exaggerated “awww.” I wasn’t trying to be romantic. Our time together was rare and precious.
Tyrell dropped us off at your apartment shortly thereafter. Your other roommates were out as well, so we had the place to ourselves. You led me into your small bedroom, and I ran my hands over the familiar objects you touched every day—your comforter and pillow, the handle of your comb. I sniffed at your deodorant and picked up a discarded t-shirt from the floor and buried my nose in it.
“You like that smell?” you asked with a grin.
“I miss this scent the most when I’m not in a body.”
You came over and lifted your arm, expecting me to shy away from you, but I grabbed your waist and drew you closer, leaning in to really smell where your flavor was most piquant. Your spine curved in a graceful dip. Such a beautiful dancer.
“Henri, I stink.”
“No, this is what I like.” Modern humans were so hygienic—too much, in my opinion—using so many artificial scents to mask their unique flavors. I loved the smell of a man after a few hours of sweat and labor. What a treat to sample the places where it concentrated. Why would anyone deny themselves that simple pleasure? I lowered your arm, and you drew your fingers along my bicep, squeezing the mound of thick, muscular flesh.
“I tried to pick a body I thought you would like.”
“I like this body, butyouare what makes it special. I wasn’t interested in Bobby until you body-snatched him.”
“I prefer the term ‘inhabit.’ Perhaps you’ll be more interested in him now?” That thought was more than a little gloomy.
“That’s not what I meant. I only want you, Henri.” Your face tilted and you rose up on your toes, kissing me again. I was careful this time, not wishing to reinjure your lip. I lifted you easily into my arms. Your powerful legs wrapped around my waist, and your muscular thighs squeezed my abdominals. I carried you to the recliner where I carefully sat down on it.
“I’m sitting on your throne,” I said.
“A bit sticky, isn’t it?”
I laughed. How good it felt. All of this—your weight in my lap, your breath tickling my ear, your low voice taunting me. Your knees dug into my waist as the small of your back arched in my hands. Your body was so supple. It unspooled like satin.
“Will you undress for me?” I was crossing boundaries I’d set for myself, but to see you with human eyes, to run my hands over your naked flesh, to bury my nose in your intimate places…
“Are you going to give me my birthday spanking?” you teased.
“The idea has merit,” I said and wondered if you might enjoy it.
You climbed off my lap, stealthy as a cat, and slowly began taking off your t-shirt. Blood rushed to my genitals with alarming velocity. Your gaze went from my face to my pants where I massaged my growing erection. Your movements stalled, your eyes widened, and I felt your hesitation. For all your bravado, you were still very innocent.
“What is it?” I asked as you froze.
“I don’t know.” You licked your lips and searched the room, a trapped animal searching for escape. I stood and gently helped you put your shirt back on.
“I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” I said cautiously.
“But… we’ve waited so long.”
“There are no deadlines, Orlando. Let’s take our time.”
You sighed, sounding emphatically disappointed. “I guess I have some hang-ups.”
“Come here,” I guided you back onto my lap and kicked back the recliner, another first. “I’ve been waiting so long to do that.”
You smiled and squirmed into a more comfortable position with your knees on either side of me and your chest pressed against mine. I reached over, pulled the comforter off your bed, and wrapped us both in it. I rubbed my hand up and down your back in what I hoped was a soothing rhythm. How strange and mutable you were to me. Earlier in the day, a friend. In the broom closet, a lover. But in that moment, I felt a powerful desire to protect you that more resembled the relationship between a parent and child. My lust for you abated and was replaced with tenderness. I only wanted you to feel safe inside my arms.
