Failing Upward Ch. 12

"Fuck, Smith did you see that? Sid's nose twitched!"

"That's a signal all right, " Alan laughed, snatching the last piece of strudel. "A signal that he's fucking horny."

Glenda was engrossed in some book, pretending we weren't making spectacles of ourselves. And as long as Karen thought we were cute, I didn't give a shit about anyone else.

"And how would you know that signal?" Les asked Alan and passed.

"I'm not fucking answering that one--"

"Yeah Alan," said Les, "take the fifth."

I took another gulp of beer and choked as I laughed out: "Hearts! Alone!"

I gloated at the groans from Les and Smith as I threw down the right, left and ace.

"Shit, lucky in cards, unlucky in love," Smith said, throwing down the king and nine of hearts along with the ace of spades.

"Lucky at both!" I said, leaning back in my chair, grinning at the rest of my hand-- Smith might have the other two aces, but ha! It didn't matter!

Les threw down crap, and I threw down the queen and ten of hearts.

"Euchre!" Sid yelled.

"That's the name of the game," I added.

Sid leaned across the table and gave me a wet congratulatory smack on the lips. I wanted him so bad it hurt.

"Shit. You should have just laid your hand down," Smith complained. "But you had to drag it out and prolong the pain."

"I think I'll repair to the lavatory and get another brewski--" I said, as I stood up, stretching. I grinned at Les. Let him think I cheated.

I ran to the bathroom-- I could only hold four beers for so long. Then there was Sid. He obviously needed more cheering up. After the fucking lousy day, I'd decided I knew the perfect way to turn it around. So far, it was going well. Friends and family to take our minds off Trent. A few good laughs had changed Sid's brooding. Nothing like watching Smith shoot beer out his nose to lighten the mood.

I came back and retrieved another cold one.

"Ah, where's Sid?" I asked, twisting the top off.

"I don't know, but I could make an accurate guess--" Alan answered.

Both our eyes looked over toward Sid's room. I thought, hey, this was Sid's way of getting me alone. I didn't say anything-- just slipped nonchalantly out of the living room to the back of the house. I opened his door and turned on the light.

"Sid? You in there?" No answer and no Sid.

I checked my room next. I hiked up the stairs. No Sid there either. After that I searched the laundry room and the bathroom. My mouth went dry and my legs rubbery. I scoured the house like a mother who'd lost her kid at the mall.

"Ok," I said, turning to the euchre crew. "Where is he? Didn't any of you see where he went?"

"What's the big deal? So he went outside without you? Not like you're attached at the hip," Alan joked.

"Maybe that's the problem," Smith said, as he got up for another beer. "He wants to be attached in another place..."

I ignored them as I went to check the porch. So he went outside. Shit.

Sid disappeared. Only gone a few minutes, but I was panicked. They had no clue why I was so upset. Why would they? Glenda was; she understood. It was liked she sensed it. She got up and went out the back door looking too.

I hoped he had just stepped out for a walk to get some fresh air on the beach. All that went through my mind were what ifs--

What if they had him. Worse, what if he had him. The bile spilled into the back of my throat.

I ran out the front door, calling Sid's name.

As I got down to the water, the night sky collapsed into the lake in the distance, and I could see shadows on the beach playing tricks on my eyes. My senses mocked me, hearing voices in the night, seeing movements in the air. The ordinary transformed to insidious: The body floating at the water's edge merely a waterlogged stump. Sid's discarded shirt in the sand was just foam from the lake waves. I raced down to the beach to find the cry I heard was just the wind whispering through the branches of a willow. Still, someone was calling my name. I was sure of it. As I headed for the inlet following the voice, I heard another call down the beach. Someone was calling for me. It was Glenda shouting from the house:

"He's up here."

I spun around and ran back down the beach and up the steep cool sands. I found myself crying from relief half way up the dune as I saw Sid, hands in his pockets, standing on the back porch with Glenda, both watching me struggle up to them. My legs burned with every stride. I climbed the back steps, panting and wheezing from exertion. As I bent before them, all I could think of was all the what ifs that'd gone through my brain. With my head between my knees, I blurted out, "Where the hell were you?!"

"Jeez Wes, I' sorry. I was cleaning my car..."

Note to self : Neat Sid plus messy car equals hours of obsessing. Probably sat through every hand thinking about his car seat.

It wasn't that he was so concerned about anyone seeing the mess I made, bleeding all over his nice white vinyl seat. No, it was his fertile imagination, envisioning my blood, like an unwanted house guest, insinuating itself into pristine folds of his fine Corinthian leather-- oh wait, not leather-- just vinyl.

Sid... leather... imitation leather... what difference did it make? Some kind of God damn Sidney fetish.

Glenda stuck her head in the door and gave the all clear to Karen and the others. Then, shutting the sliding glass, she turned to us-- a million questions on her face. I was just relieved Sid was safe next to me.

"I think you should both tell me what happened today," she said. "And before you start weaving castles in the sky Wes, I want you to know I got a look at the inside of Sid's car before he cleaned it."

So I came as clean as Sid's Cutlass: about Trent forcing me to drive and his plan to take Sid and me to Shackleton and how Trent let us go. As I told her the story, it did sounded surreal. Sid was unusually quiet while I was animatedly telling the tale to Glenda. I knew the serum in his room weighed him down. Reason number two why he cleaned his car, to keep his mind off the small glass vials on his dresser.

Finally I finished. Sid jangled change in his pocket; Glenda memorized Sid's nervous countenance. The crickets chirped and bull frogs croaked, and I listened, waiting. It was Sid who interrupted the night music.

"You put the serum in my room."

She turned her face from him and was gazing at the night sky, and I joined her watching the stars twinkling.

"I thought that's what you both wanted..." she said wistfully.

"It was..." I said.

I felt his thumb brush my hand, coaxing my fingers around his.

"It still is," Sid said.

I imagine I should have felt happy or maybe saddened by his decision. Instead I felt tired. The only thing that reassured me was the squeeze from his hand.

"The constellation Pleiades--" she said, pointing to the southern sky, "you can see it much easier in the fall when it's above us. There are over 500 stars in that cluster-- only six we can see with the naked eye. On a good night like tonight, sometimes you can see the seventh sister."

"How far is it from us?" Sid asked.

"Over 500 light years. It's blue-colored, which means it's a reflection nebula-- reflecting the light from nearby stars."

"I'm sure there's a reason you're telling us this..." Sid said.

"Yeah, like that's where I'm from," I added, laughing.

Glenda smiled and raised her eyebrow.

"People are like the nebulas. Some reflect light, some emit light and others are dark," she said.

"And what am I?" I asked.

"I don't have to tell you that-- you both already know what you are. And now," she said, "I think we should go in."

We stepped into a quiet house. I could hear the evening news coming from Smith's bedroom.

"We'll speak about all this further in the morning," Glenda said.

We stood there awkwardly, watching her walk off to her room. I felt like it was the first time I'd been alone with Sid. I chewed my cuticle while Sid bit his lower lip. We both stared stupidly at each other.

"Ah, we could probably go to my room," Sid suggested, frantically tumbling the quarters and dimes around in his pocket. My mind raced. His room did afford more privacy. Every squeak and whisper echoed off the rafters from my room.

"Yeah, but..." I stopped myself.

"Yeah, but the serum's in my room, right?"

I nodded meekly.

"Listen," he said, stepping a breath away from me. "I don't want to take the serum tonight. I just want you."

I nodded again as he pulled me toward his room. He opened the door quietly, and I went through after. I turned and shut it, and he pressed me smooth against the door. I raised my hands flat above my head, face first against the door. I let my palms open, feeling the cool wood beneath. He moved his own hands on top of mine, entwining our fingers. His breath prickled the fine hairs on my neck, and his thighs warmed the back of my legs. As he pushed gently against me, he squeezed my hands and in a lazy arc, smoothing them out spread eagle against the finished wood.

"I've thought a long time today about wanting and needing," he said. "All your words last night about how much you loved me and what I mean to you, then I spoiled it by telling you I was thinking of changing my mind."

He brought our arms down to our sides, and I felt his chest heavy against my back-- his heart beating through me.

"I was afraid. It's scary to want someone that bad. When the serum takes hold of me, it's like I just need. I have to have."

"And what do you have to have now?" I asked, my palms sweaty against his.

He kissed the back of my ear.

"You."

I swallowed as he leaned hard into me.

"Please, yes," I moaned.

I closed my eyes and whispered his name. I knew what he meant. Sometimes it was all too much. I pressed my mouth to the door to squelch the strangled cries that threatened to erupt from the bottom of my gut. I loved this. I loved him. I wanted to scream it out loud.

"I want you to know..." I gasped.

His stubble scraped rough and reckless across my neck. I opened my eyes, his face so near to mine. His chin scratched my nose as he kissed my eyelid.

"What?" he asked. "What do you want me to know?"

As he chafed my face with kisses, I tempered my voice, calming the immediacy in my soul.

"I want you to know how much I love you. With or without."

He let go of my hands and reached between the door and me. He slid my jeans over my hips, and they fell to the floor. He moved achingly slow, reaching inside my underwear, touching me. I felt like I'd explode any moment from the pressure of his hands on me.

"Turn around," he whispered.

I loved the feel of him against me so much I didn't want to turn around. Instead I pushed against him, begging.

"Wes?" he asked. "Turn around. If you don't move, I going to pick you up and carry you to the bed like some blushing bride."

I faced him, grabbing the back of his head and pulling his mouth to mine. I sucked at his tongue with the same abandon I'd used on other parts of his body earlier that day. I loved the way I could make him tremble. My fingers went to free him from his jeans. Too many clothes came between us.

He pulled back for a moment. His eyes abating a bit, then growing wide and warm.

"I love you, too," he whispered, "with or without being immortal."

I started to slide down his jeans when I heard the familiar sound of taps on my cell phone, beeping from the floor. I kicked it-- not a very economical solution, but it worked. It stopped.

Sid navigated me to the bed. Our clothes fell like a trail of breadcrumbs across the floor. His fingers deftly slipped my boxers down. I got his jeans off, then threw off his shirt. I relished in gliding his underwear over his tight ass. With a little effort, we pulled my t-shirt up and over my head, letting it drop to the floor last. Then he pushed me backwards on the comforter, straddling me.

His palms loitered from my hip bones and milled around my tummy.

"Now who's teasing?" I said as I bit my lip trying not to burst out in giggles.

Then he gave me one of his crooked smiles. He sat back on my thighs. I have to say, he looked like he was admiring his own work.

Then I heard music. A chiming. I thought, could it be the music of the spheres? But no, this time it was Sid's cell phone.

"It's in the headboard--" he said apologetically. "Probably the damn road manager calling again. I'll turn it off." And he reached over me, discretely tinkering with his phone while grabbing some bottle-- what was it? Coconut? Great minds think alike.

"Now," he said mischievously, holding up the lotion, "what to do with you and this..."

It wasn't a difficult choice to make.

"This is the first time for half of me--" I said, as he nuzzled my neck, nipping me hard and making me squeal. "How about some close and personal instruction?"

Sid laughed, brushing back the damp hair sticking to my forehead.

"Nervous?" he asked. "Maybe a nice massage to help you relax?"

"Me? Nervous? No way!" I fibbed.

"I admit I am. It's ok for you to admit it--"

He began kneading my neck with practiced hands, working their magic, rolling his thumbs across to my shoulders, then began raking them down my chest.

"Ok. A massage would be good--" I choked.

"After the great oral massage you gave me earlier this afternoon, it's the least I could do to return the favor."

He reached over for the lotion and dramatically smeared some into his palm and over his fingers, smoothing it up and down in a mocking motion. Fuck.

"Roll over," he ordered.

And I obeyed. I felt his thumbs gently press down my spine up and down, and his palms butterflied out, expertly finding the knots and loosening them. Each time trailing lower than the last down my spine until finally his thumbs pressed over my tail bone and his palms massaged my ass. I swallowed hard as he slowly kneaded inward exploring.

I whimpered. My, my -- the things one can do with cocoa butter and fingers.

Then I felt an odd vibration. What was this? Some new fangled contraption of Sid's? Or maybe some bizarre sensory stimulation Sid evoked? Then I realized, duh, it was Sid's phone again! What do you expect from a cheap, pressboard bed? I was astounded it hadn't fallen to bits from all the recent stress it was under--

"Sorry," he said, taking it out of the head board and shoving it into the dresser next to the bed.

"That's ok. I felt kinda good."

"If you want a vibrator, I can get us a better one then that--" his voice rattled. "Now, turn your head so I can see your eyes and watch me in the mirror and tell me what you'd like me to do with my fingers--"

I met his eyes there, willing myself not to look away from the intensity that sparked within the depths of his eyes.

My throat constricted as I tried to speak, but words wouldn't come. I scrunched the sheets with my fists.

"Not good enough. Tell me with your eyes--"

I looked deep into his pupils, falling into him. He smiled lazily, eyelids fluttering-- hiding a scorching inferno just beneath. My eyes grew wide, throwing back his heat, begging him, "Please," as I pushed up into his hand.

If there was any doubt what type of nebulas we were, it was apparent now. My eyes reflected his-- one hundred suns burning-- a mirror of bright blue heat.

I watched his face as I pleaded again with my eyes. Only with my eyes.

His brow creased and his eyes were bright green searing heat. Through my eyes, I expressed what I felt in my chest-- that familiar warmth spreading until I felt like I would spontaneously combust.

"How do you like my helping hands?" he asked. "Or do you need more?"

All I could do was nod and shoot as much incandescent lust through my irises as I could muster. I think it worked...

"Any first time jitters?" he asked.

"Yes, but it's good," I whispered.

Really good.

He nudged me over and splayed my knees out beyond his shoulders, using more lotion. As he pushed into me, I felt like he was burning me to cinders.

The nervousness in the pit of my stomach spread making the rest of my body tighten. His hands gripped my knees pushing them into my chest, and I pulled his mouth down to mine, sucking on his tongue and lapping his lips as my hips did a push-me pull-you against him.

Pain and joy coursed through me as Sid slammed his weight into me. My lungs burned like I was just finishing a marathon, not beginning one. He rocked into me. The pain ebbed and as he shifted his weight down on to me-- the heat from his eyes flickered like the stars we'd watched earlier. He murmured he loved me as I bared down to stifle the pain. The sweat shimmered on his brow like gems.

As he smiled against my lips, Sid thrust into me deeper yet, and I cried out. Building up to the moment when everything stops in the room but our hearts. I felt the pull from the immortal part of me-- that heat spreading. My hands dug into his scalp, desperately hungering for another taste of his mouth. I was close-- so close.

His scruffy face chafed mine as his hands clenched, increasing rhythm. I looked up at him, flushed and beautiful.

Against my cheek disjointed phrases rushed from him.

And I thought I must be going batty, seeing stars in his eyes and sparkling gems in his sweat and thinking the ringing of his cell phone was the music of the spheres while its vibration shook my world. And from the words that poured from Sid, I believed loving me must be the same. I came like that, spilling over, watching his eyes.

We held each other. The sex was always great, but most times I loved that part more, feeling our pulses slow and holding each other. I loved the drowsy comfort of his arms binding me close.

We lay like that and fell asleep. And I woke to a rattling. I realized it was Sid's phone again, vibrating on the table. Sid stirred, rolled over and reached over the nightstand.

His voice slurred with sleep as he answered, "Hello, Sydney Raymond."

I watched his face change. Restful creases flattened out then shifted to furrowed scowl lines.

"Yes, I hear you." The terse voice, his knuckles white gripping the phone, I knew who it was without asking. He hesitated as he held the phone out to me.

"It's Shackleton," I said flatly.

Sid nodded.

I took the cell phone.