Page 69 of Vespertine
The hug had lasted a long time. When Nicky had finally pulledaway, emotions roaring inside him and threatening to spill out in action orwords, Jasper’s face had been a wash of wild vulnerability: open mouth, flushedcheeks, and dilated eyes. Nicky’d wanted to kiss him. He’d wanted to slide hishand into Jazz’s hair and taste his lips, show him with his body how much heknew of love and devotion. He’d wanted to make him praise his God withshivering cries of joyous pleasure. He’d been tempted to push him back insidethe house, open him up for his cock, and fuck him until neither one of themremembered why they’d ever stopped.
Instead, he’d touched Jazz’s cheek and then turned away. Theyhadn’t said another goodbye.
His dick throbbed, and he pulled off Letterhead onto adead-end, nameless road where he and Jazz had traded blow jobs and hand jobsmore than once all those years ago. Parking on the packed-dirt shoulder, heclenched the steering wheel and forced himself to remember that Jazz was apriest. He’d sat through Mass and watched him only days before.
The memory didn’t help. With his dimpled chin, lush lips, andlight-brown hair dashed liberally with blond that reflected colors from thestained glass, Jasper had looked like someone’s masturbatory fantasy of apriest. He’d given a good sermon too, though Nicky had been so moved by thefamiliar sound of Jasper’s gravel-honey voice that he’d barely listened to thewords. He’d been absorbed by the sweet turn of Jasper’s neck when he looked tothe crucifix, and the smooth line of his throat when he lifted his face toheaven calling for the Benediction.
Jasper always had such a beautiful neck. There was a smalldark mole at the base of it that Nicky used to kiss, and he still rememberedhow Jazz’s neck flushed when—
No.
As he stayed motionless with his forehead digging into thesteering wheel, he slowly, purposefully turned his attention to the present. Hemade note of the little things like his therapist had taught him, like thestretch of Jasper’s yoga pants against his thigh as he pushed hard against thebrake pedal. He felt like an umbrella had been shoved down his throat andopened in his chest. Choked. Pressured. Hurt.
Swallowing against the panic and arousal, Nicky wonderedwhat Jasper’s skin would feel like under his fingers now, and what his mouthmight taste like. His dick pressed against his shorts uncomfortably in thedarkness of the deserted road. A heavy bass beat filled his mind, aligning to thethud of his heartbeat, and he unbuttoned his shorts as a screaming, compulsiveneed to blunt his arousal with orgasm gripped him.
Fill me up, need like life
C’mon, and love me
Sharp, hot knife
Why don’t you? Why won’t you love me
Why don’t you drive me home?
Lyrics and bass together rocked him and he gave into it. Hetook hold of himself, thumbing the slit and smearing the precome, rememberingwhen Jazz had pressed his tongue to the head of Nicky’s leaking dick for thefirst time, wide-eyed and so young.
“It’s good, Nicky. It’s not bad, really.I promise. Here, taste me.”
Nicky shuddered and closed his eyes. His phone buzzed, andhe grabbed it with his left hand, still gripping his dick with his right. Itwas a text from Jazz.
Are you safely home?
He bit into his lower lip, jerking his cock and staring atthe words, imagining Jasper back in his bedroom, lying in bed thinking ofNicky. Was his hand on his cock too? Was he hard and aching? Did he want Nicky’sbody against his own? Did he want his kiss and his touch? He stared at thescreen of his phone like it was a window into Jasper’s desires, and beathimself off hard and fast, orgasm hovering over him like an angel.
“God!” he cried out as he came, jizz spurting everywhere,and he gripped the phone so hard it popped out of his sweat-slick fingers. It fellto the floorboard as he writhed in the driver’s seat, moaning and milking thepeak until he collapsed back, shaking and only partially sated.
“Fuck,” he whispered as the phone started to ring. His handwas covered in his own come, and his heart pounded wildly. Sweat slipped downhis back, and he frantically searched for napkins to clean his hand. The phonewent to voicemail just as he got the glove compartment open and grabbed ahandful of Starbucks napkins his father had stashed there. The car reeked ofcome.
He rolled down the windows, letting the cooler night air flowthrough and calm him. The forest surrounding the dead-end road buzzed andcreaked, and Nicky took gulping breaths of the pine-scented breeze. He satthere, cock out, and stared into the night before flipping on the interiorlight to wipe up the clumps and streaks of come on the steering wheel andconsole.
What the hell had that been? He’d woken with morning woodsince going off drugs, but he hadn’t experienced sharp, real arousal in months—no,years. It was dizzying, and a little terrifying.
His phone rang again as he tossed the napkins into the smalltrash can Adrian kept behind the passenger seat. He’d need to empty it when hegot home. He fumbled on the floorboard and found the phone, answering before itwent to voicemail again.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry. I wanted to make sure you made it home safely. I wasworried when you didn’t answer my text.” Jasper sounded embarrassed.
“Almost there now. Took a little detour.”
Jazz was quiet before saying, “What kind of detour?”
“The kind that has nothing to do with Jimmy Orlean or drugsor alcohol.” Though his masturbation had been almost as compulsive as feedingan addiction, if he was honest. “I’m okay, Jazz.” He hesitated. “What aboutyou? Are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine. We simply hugged, Nicky. There’snothing in my vows against hugging a man I care about.”
“Okay.” But what about loving a man? Was there anythingabout that? Because Nicky knew, even if Jasper would never admit it, and evenif it was years and years too late, that Jasper didn’t just ‘care for him.’ Henever had and he never would. Jasper had touched him reverently, like a lover,like he had when they were kids. “If you’re sure.”
