Failing Upward Ch. 08

"You're too good at this."

He climbed back on the bed on his knees and straddling me, bouncing his cock near my mouth.

"Open up those beautiful lips, sweetie," he said, voice hoarse. I mustered the most wonton look possible and gazed up into his yes. I opened my mouth achingly slow and took him into my lips, gulping him in as far I could. His hands kneaded and tugged my hair, and his hips lurched forward. Just the reaction I was hoping for. His cock rubbed fluidly in and out of my mouth, I tried hard not to catch him with my teeth as the friction increased. The cords bit into my wrists, but I hardly noticed. His cock was all I wanted, tasting him only made me harder and hotter.

His hands pushed my face deeper into his crotch. I loved it because he loved it. I could tell he was close to coming-- his thigh muscles tightened.

He jerked himself out of my mouth with a gasp.

"Shit, I'm going to shoot off right away if we don't stop," he said breathing hard. "I need to slow down."

What he really meant was, I'm not through with you-- I have to stop so I can tease you more. I knew what I was in for when I hooked my wrists around the bedpost-- that was kind of the point-- to see how far he'd tease me. To give him permission to let go.

Of course I wanted to let go just as much.

He reached under the pillow for the Concepterol (Sid's handy-dandy hiding place for expediency), and he smiled wickedly at me. My heart raced and pulse pounded in my temples. God this was delicious.

"Crimony! Do that again with your eyes," he blurted. "Your pupils are still so wide-- they're screaming fuck me."

"How 'bout my legs open wide. See, they're screaming fuck me, too. And here lookie-- I'll spread them for you. Or how 'bout my lips, yeah, read my lips; they're screaming, too-- Oh, fuck me, fuck me."

He unscrewed the cap and squeezed some on his fingers.

"You floozy. You're no lonely frontier woman-- you're really a saloon trollop."

"No, I'm just lonely. You don't know what it's like with only sagebrush and chickens to keep you company-- my only excitement is riding my pony at a trot-- the saddle my only friend... " my last word stuck. He shoved his fingers inside me.

"Thought that'd get your attention, mam. Ain't that better than a cold hard saddle?"

My insides hitched and my knees curled up as his fingers explored me. I was whimpering and squirming as he caressed and stimulated my prostate. Sid's breathing was labored watching me. God this was great.

"Thank you," I choked out. "Such kindness..." The chords pulled on my wrists, the memory of the thorns beneath biting into me.

Sid grasped my cock and stroked it slowly rolling his thumb across my glans. Sweat was pouring off me. Glenda's dress and the sheets were drenched, and my body slipped down farther into the bed, cutting the cords deeper into my wrists. If my dick hadn't have been doing all my thinking for me at that moment, I might have stopped him myself, but I was too close to a spectacular orgasm to really give a shit. Besides, my arms had fallen asleep awhile ago.

Then he noticed.

And stopped.

"Shit, you're bleeding," he said.

I honestly felt bad to see him panicked. First he scooped me up, then he knelt next to me near the headboard and began carefully untying the knot on my wrists.

"Damn this is tight," he said. I watched him above me, using his teeth to loosen it.

"Tied with my teeth. Told you I had a talented mouth," I teased. The clothes-line came free, and I felt the release, my arms flopping uselessly down to my sides. The cords had cut into me, but it wasn't that bad. Not as bad as the look I got from Sid's face as he stared at them.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't," I said quietly. I tried to reach for his face. First try, my arm wouldn't respond, second try, it jerked up to his cheek. I tested my finger by brushing it under his eye. "See," I whispered, "just fine. Now, finish what you started. Fuck me."

I managed to pick up the lube with my other hand.

"I'll help you," I said, motioning for him to slide down beside me. "Give me your dick."

He scooted down into the mattress next to me.

"I love you," he said, kissing me. Fuck, he sucked on my tongue. He knew that always made me hot. My cock twitched. His nose twitched back. I giggled.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You and your cute nose... "

"Huh?"

I squirted the lube into my hands and found his dick. He gasped.

"Hmm, I think the rugged outlaw's gun needs firing. What do you think? Ready for some target practice?" I asked.

"What about shooting beer bottles off stumps?" he joked.

"Um, well, while that feat could put you into the Guinness Book of World Records, I much rather you put your special talents to use another way. Say, like fucking a lonely pioneer woman up the ass?"

He nodded.

I spread my legs, and he rolled on top of me.

"Ok lady, here I come," he groaned.

That's what I'd been waiting for since the door knob turned.

He gently pushed his cock inside me-- slow and easy. The pressure and heat built up, burning my chest and lungs. I gasped. My arms found his ass and pushed him in farther. I bit his neck and then kissed his jaw-line. I felt his balls.

"I want you, always," I whispered into his ear. He moved inside me. Slowly. slowly. Back arching, hips pumping in largo. Each thrust was a musical phrase, and he slurred my notes.

He chest heaved as our mouths met. And as our tongues danced in time, Sid began to increase his tempo, and I felt him reach for my cock, and I moaned into his mouth. I loved tasting his cock and having him taste mine. I loved fucking Sid. And I loved feeling his cock rubbing against mine, but this was what I loved most. Feeling him inside me, rocking into me, and that practiced hand working my cock like some great conductor.

The blood pumped from heart to my groin, as Sid lead this huge crescendo. I was coming-- I raised my knees and hugged him tight to me, wrapping my arms around him. I cried out, my come spilling sticky over his hand and onto my belly. Sid trembled and tensed his ass and thighs, then relaxed, spent. The end-- Fine.

We held each other and nodded off. And before I fell asleep, I wondered again for the millionth time this week, if I could find a way to make Sid immortal like me.

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We took our after dinner walk as usual-- Sid and I explored the great outdoors of southwestern Michigan. Past the gardens, into the old oaks, elms and huge sassafras trees. Through the umbrella of the hardwoods, where the sun dips and dapples the plush carpet-thick moss and foliage below. We took our time walking down the hill, following a farmer's old fieldstone wall-- a long forgotten property marker. From the top of the forest hill, we saw the small pond we'd adopted. It's marshy, with fuzzy cattails and lavender liatris invading the edges. Perfect and serene. We sat on a old rotting log near its edge and watched the day recede. Feeling the stones grow cold next to the pond and watching the shadows deepen, we listened to bullfrogs and the crickets sing. We waited for the first fireflies to come out and dance.

We shooed away mosquitoes, watching an old painted turtle sun himself with the last beams of the day. Out here, we could both think and not hurry. If we wanted a slow leisurely kiss, Sid and I reclined on the cushy old moss.

And we did. Soft sweet lips and wind whisping through the ancient oak above. Fingers ran smooth in his sandy hair, and I inhaled the dank smell of insect repellant on his neck. I raised my head as I heard a branch snap.

We sat up from the mossy bed and watched a doe, her white tail bouncing up and down past us then into the brush.

Then I heard crunching leaves over the crest of the hill.

"I think we better get back," Sid whispered, cautiously. He heard it, too. Crunching of leaves and twigs. I thought it was behind us over the crest of the hill and now I wasn't as sure. I saw movement in the brush where the doe appeared. Not a deer this time. Too loud. Probably what startled her. We both got up and started away from the noise and around the pond when we heard Trent's voice.

"You shouldn't be out this far," he commented, stepping out in the open. I felt like kissing him-- I was so relieved.

We walked toward him.

"Scared me for a moment there," I said. Then I noticed Trent looking up at the crest of the hill. My eyes followed his. Shackleton stood with two other men, one with semi-automatic rifle pointed with Sid in his sights-- the other with some sort of video camera. Shackleton started down the hill.

I heard myself yell 'no' as lunged to get between Sid and shooter. I heard the shot, and the impact threw me sideways into Sid. I stumbled grabbing Sid to pull him behind me, trying to shield him when the second shot ripped open my shoulder and hit Sid in the chest. His shirt ripped from my hands as he flew back. The crack of the back of his head hitting a rock echoed in the silent wood.

I fell down to my knees beside him, and cradled his head in my lap. He grasped my right hand tightly.

It was that projector in my mind-- what I couldn't remember. Every bit I'd forgotten, I now recalled. The accident, the hospital. This second shock brought it back to me.

Panic and doubt ate me. There I was crying, the back of Sid's head sticky in my hand. Afraid I couldn't do it. I looked up to Trent-- his face etched with guilt.

He'd failed.

"Wes, I'm cold," he said, coughing. Blood. He'd coughed up blood. "Cold," he said again. I lay down, hugging him to me, sobbing into his hair.

Can you save him?

His blood warmed my chest, and brushing his face with my hands, I prayed for guidance: how was I supposed to heal him? So much blood-- part of it mine. I tasted metal in my mouth. I pressed my forehead into his and begged for some great splendid light to show me the way out of all this.

"Show me now," I begged. Laying on hands as if I were a healer in some old time revival. False healer. Please don't let me be false. I opened his shirt, and I saw the cavity-- the bone and the blood; how could I heal this? I laid my hand on the gaping wound and asked-- no, pleaded with myself. Please work. Please heal.

I could hear them all near me. The camera humming, shallow breathing. Ticking. All watching, waiting.

Sid coughed again, spattering my face with droplets of blood.

My hand shook violently as I pressed it tighter to the wound. The other held Sid's hand tight.

"Heal," I whispered. "Heal, heal, heal." Then, "Oh God," my heart pounded in my eardrums-- his grip loosened. No warm squeezing return of my hand. His eyes-- the light was leaving them. I let go of his hand and pressed his chest into mine. Clutching his back, blood soaking me.

"No," I cried. "I won't let you go." I closed my eyes, reaching into that black pit to find those bright sparks inside. Remembering what it was like to feel him inside me, making love to me. I had to find that.

"I love you..." I choked.

The spiral and lights. Hard and soft. Loud and clean-- pure light. I heard and felt him. "Please," I said. "Please." And I took it into me. Dizzy, like I was falling. But no, I was still kneeling, searching his eyes.

His back was smooth against my hand.

Can you save him?

He gasped.

Sobbing, I watched his eyes lids flutter, pupils widen.

I kissed his forehead and rocked him in my arms. Wiped the blood from his chest. No wound remained.

"How touching," Shackleton rasped.

I broke away from the joy and pain, meeting Shackleton's eyes as he stood above us. The red angry scars on his face and neck were hideous reminders that he was slowly falling to pieces-- that he needed to steal my blood to be whole. Trent stood next to him. He did nothing. Shackleton reached out to shake Trent's hand, and Trent pulled his back in disgust.

"What? No handshake to seal our deal, Trent?"

"Deal?" I choked.

"You don't think we could have gotten to you this easily without Trent's help?"

"What the fuck is he saying Trent?" I rasped.

"I told you from the very beginning. I take orders. The Community needs what Shackleton knows, and they need what you have. He can make the serum from your blood. They want it. First we had to be sure that you were the one."

"Fuck you," I cried.

"I'm sorry. Better the Community than Shackleton alone. Sid will be safe now. We'll leave him here with your aunt and uncle. He'll be fine as long as you come quietly with us."

"Could you turn off that fucking video camera?"

Trent nodded. The camera clicked off.

"Film captures so many treasured memories," said Shackleton. He took the semi-automatic from the sniper. A sadistic smile played on his lips as he looked down at Sid. "He's very attractive. I can see why you enjoy his company so much. And his touch makes you scream out, doesn't it Wes? Makes me wonder, what it'd be like--"

"Stop that Shackleton, that's enough," said Trent, stepping closer to him.

"Now the question is, are you coming or do we kill your boyfriend for good this time?" Shackleton sneered, resting the rifle's muzzle against Sid's head.

"Fuck, I'll go with you. You want me to beg? Fine. Please take me. I'll go. But if I do and you do come back here and touch him, I swear, I'll find a way to kill your sorry ass no matter how fucking long it takes."

"That's hardly polite."

"Oh, Suck me," I spit at him.

"That can be arranged," he answered.

Trent stepped next to me and pulled a syringe from his pocket. The same icy blue stare was in his eyes, and I recalled that first day he stabbed me. Then another shift in those eyes. Pity?

He jabbed the needle into my arm with same piercing look he had when he turned the blade. And then time slipped away.