Paresthesia Pt. 08

"The second time though," Hannah says, "That was our idea."

"I'd still say we were mostly the object in play."

"We were the ball, so to speak. We play games together."

He sighs and slumps and looks simply dejected. He wants another drink, but the waiter is on the other side of the room. Some Droogs appear to be chatting him up, so he's going to be a while.

"She might play with you," I say, "We're not, like, attached or anything. If anything, I think we were mostly a rebound. Y'know, like a ball. So, shoot your shot. She's fun. Really fun. And you can play with the snakes afterwards."

"Honestly, not my type," he says, "Not to say I wouldn't, because who wouldn't, but still. Like I said. Still kind of figuring myself out at this point."

I take a deep drink and just let the silence hang. I'm still here and I'm still drinking and I'm kind of eager to hear what he's going to say next. I'm nosy. I can be nosy. We all can be nosy.

"It just feels so different in there now," he says, "Like, I walked into work today and Hugh was actually smiling. He even showed me a picture of his grandson. We've worked together I don't know how long, and I didn't even know he had one."

"He tried to set me up with him," Hannah says, "Kind of an okay dude. And in the closet. Like to the point where I don't even think he knows."

"Well," Ken says, "That makes two of us."

That is a fun set of words and I have no comment. Ken takes a deep breath and mutters something under it. I don't quite catch it, but it sounds like 'fuck.' That's a fun word. I like that word. Hannah prods him a bit, but only a bit.

"Slip of the tongue," he says, "Just, just shut up."

"You don't have to hide that with us," I say, "But ok."

"No," he says, straightening his back, "No. Fuck it. Solar's gone and Deadman's happy and Azure's an ass. I'm gay. I'm gay and I kind of sort of had a thing on you Evan for a bit. Not really a crush, but something."

Something deflates in him and it's wonderful. Something perks up in me and that's interesting. And something is turning in Hannah's mind and that has me scared. And curious. Mostly scared.

"No shit," says Hannah, "Everyone has a thing for Evan. It was the hat. It was the Minuteman hat and now he has a dumb mohawk that nobody likes. That and Kieran and Alessandra have made me bi as fuck."

"Alessandra likes the mohawk," I say, indignant, "It was a good hat, but c'mon. Mohawk's better."

"Maybe up," Ken says, "But down? Not really. And the color's a bit much. Keep it green, but tone it down a few shades. Something a bit more earthy and a little less neon."

He's laughing and drinking and that's good. He sets the glass down and goes back to silence. I think that's bad.

"Really," he says, mostly to himself, "I come out and that's it."

"What did you expect," I shrug, "We can make it a big deal. Get you a cake and some streamers. Some strippers too, both kinds."

"I don't know what I expected, really. You two are the first that I've actually said anything too. I think my parents have something figured, and now I'm wondering if Hugh has picked up on it, but I always thought it was a bigger thing that this."

I just shrug. Never really had this identity come up for debate, although there have been some curiosities here and there. Ken's Ken and his identity never changed. I just became aware of it. He takes another deep drink and his tongue's getting all loose. That's fun.

"God," he mutters, "I hope the suits never hear about this. Can you imagine? Suddenly, I'm in rainbow robes and assless chaps, waving flags and lisping around. The worst part though, they probably would feel real proud of themselves. Progressive my ass. I honestly don't blame you for walking, Hannah, after that name change. They pull that shit and I'd walk too."

"Evan helped with that, if I'm being honest," she says, "Kind of finally got together that night and it just made me realize how unhappy I was. It's just nice to share a bed with someone in a room you don't hate."

"I'd love that," he says, "I would love that so much."

Hannah looks to me and she has a thought in her mind. I have some ideas of what it could be and I give a halfhearted shrug. She can suggest it. Then we'll talk about it. And we might actually end up doing it.

"Y'know, the three of us could try something. There are worse ways to welcome you back," she says with a finger on the rim of her glass, "There are worse ways to welcome you back."

I only have noncommittal motions to give. In all honesty, not really my preference. But I have fairness to consider. If we can go one way, we can at least try the other. And there is the chance that I would like it. There is a chance that I would hate. Hard to say from my little perspective of the moment. I can't see forward. I can barely see backward. I only have the present and I have Ken mulling it over.

"Huh," he says, "That's an idea."

And I am not the only non-committal one it seems. Hannah keeps playing with her glass, trying to play it off as just an idea. I am trying to play it cool as well. I don't want to be the one to turn anything down. I am open and it is possible and it might even be a good time.

He is still slack, but there is motion to him now, little pumps and shimmies in his shoulders. He runs a hand over his scalp, parting the fine dust of his shaved head. I don't know if he likes it like that. I know he had to fight to be clean shaven. For some reason, Solar wanted him in a beard and moustache, one of those long droopy ones of fine hair that can be tossed over a shoulder in indignant defiance. He can't keep his hands still. They move and stroke his chin, trying to mull over some solution to the gran question posed. I offer no answer. Hannah has hers, but it is also not the one she wants to hear.

"Fuck it," he says, "Why not?"

Not the best answer I heard, but I'll take it.

---

I am astonished to find out that his apartment looks just like Serpentor's. Minor differences in décor, but layout and flow remain the same. Different posters, movie and otherwise, but the same placement of furniture. Couch over there, shelf over there, table there, although I suppose there are only so many ways to move the pieces in the same space.

"I know, I know," Ken says, "it's not the best, but it's what I got. There were talks a few years ago of getting me a temple or something up in the hills, but that fell through when they sold all the other lairs. So here we are. Tiny apartment for a good guy."

"Do Dead and Azure have the same thing," I ask.

"Dead has his townhome. Got to pull the whole married card and that shut it down. Tom fought for it, but Hugh still has some weight to throw around. Azure, I'm not quite sure. Doesn't really hang around. Think I've seen him at the Roulette once or twice but that's about it."

"Yeah," Hannah says, "We saw him once. Might just not be his thing."

"I mean, it's not really my thing either, but it's just nice to go out with people you work with every so often. Unwind, destress. Hard line of work. Really hard. You guys want something? Coffee? Water? Think I have some beers."

I take a water and Hannah takes a beer. Ken puts on a pot, just in case something changes down the line. He has nothing at all. Just a kind of odd demeanor. He is nervous. He is really nervous and I get it. He shouldn't be nervous. Worst case scenario, we just hang out for a few hours. But that worst case is hard to see when the mind can come up with a myriad of scenarios that are infinitely more nightmarish. It's a good couch, really. Not quite as good as mine, but still. I will never turn up a good seat. He takes a shaky breath.

"I actually can't believe I'm doing this," he mutters.

"What's so hard to believe," Hannah shrugs, "It's kind of becoming a thing we do at this point. Helps us bond in a weird way."

"I don't know if this will make you feel better, but you're actually number three we've done this with."

"Three? I know about Kieran, but who else?"

"Not really gentlemanly to kiss and tell."

"Alizarin," Hannah says, "I'm not a gentle man. Yeah, something else you probably missed. There's a new villain sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Complicated," I say, "She's the one that we kind of meddled in a bit too much."

"Gotcha. Is it because of this or..."

"More family things than anything. I don't want to give too much since this isn't really our thing to share."

He nods and drums his fingers against his thigh. I don't think he knows what to do next. To be fair, I don't know the next move. Kieran made the first move with her, and Hannah made the moves with Alessandra. I guess it's my turn.

"Ken," I say, "You look like you're nervous. If this is something you don't want to do, then we don't have to do it. We chalk this up to a weird night between friends and go back to beating each other up. I'm ok with that."

"It's not that. It's just, it's just weird that this is finally happening. It's, it's liberating? I guess? I'm not sure. It's been a hectic day. I walked into work this morning and the vibe just felt a lot more open. I saw Hugh actually smiling at the console. I don't think I've ever seen that. He even showed me a picture of his great-granddaughter. And it feels weird to say what I'm about to say. I don't think I could have said this yesterday. Too much pressure, too many eyes looking down on me. Give me a second."

He keeps tugging on his fingers, moving something in him and letting it fall. His eyes are closed. His eyes shut and squint and feel something tight and knotted finally give way. I sip my glass. I like ice water. Arguably the best drink that ever existed. Definitely better than soda or anything like that.

"I want you to fuck me, Evan," he says.

It definitely is a weird thing to hear out of his mouth. And it is hitting something in me. I will admit to that. I do not choke or sputter or do anything out of the ordinary. I merely set my glass down and push it a bit so it lands on a coaster. And to be fair, I did think it would play out a little different. Everything I know of these sorts of situations ultimately points towards Hannah as the delicious filling in this lewd sandwich.

"And let me just run that by- "

"Do it. Do it. Doitdoitdoit. C'mon. Don't be a pussy. Do it. Do it. Do it."

"And there we go. In the interest of fairness, I'm not sure that I really go for men. This is mostly going to be an experiment for me. If you don't want that, then again, weird night. But if you're cool with it, then let's begin."

I thought that the acceptance would bring forward a bit more enthusiasm. It just deflates him, hidden knots and wound springs slowly losing all tension. It's odd to see all the masks fall like this. But they do and they all start to morph and change into something new.

He is not confident. Whatever was behind the block to say those words made him so. But he stands and moves and suddenly he is next to me. I feel his presence and it is hesitant. If anything, it reminds me of Hannah in the moments before we played our game on rooftop, before any of this was rolling, before any of this was codified and set in stone., the was the trepidation and the general unease that came with the words. But he is next to me and I feel Hannah behind me, hanging on and nudging me forward. Shame on me for not being the most go getting I can be.

Ken lost his blazer in the transition at some point, and just like everyone who plays this wonderful game, there is a level of fitness to him that is admirable. Toned and seasoned iron. Not that it's a contest, but definitely more of a bulge than I can put down with a bit of effort. The shape of him is sharper than Hannah. More cliffs and drops than her. It comes with dangerous pits, the shape of his body. Easy things to fall off of and stay in. Hannah is constant flow and shift and move. Ken is pitfalls and taps, dangerous terrain with hidden beasts crawling through the grass. But he is docile for the moment. He is prodding and curious at the new sensation that has dropped in his lap.

Hannah nudges my back a bit and I fall into his chest. His heart is beating so fast. He gives a nervous laugh and that finally does something to me. Odd. But not unwelcome.

I kiss him and it takes a moment for him to realize that he is being kissed. He is not pulling away though. He is standing there silent for a moment before it all falls apart and he collapses. I am on top of him and his arms are around me and I am adrift in an odd sea that I do not have a chart for. It swallows me whole and spits me back out in confusing, terrible churn and shifting waves. They peak and crash and he tastes like ozone before a storm.

He drops. I am on him, over him and putting my lips to him. There is stubble on him and I'm not sure if I like the texture. Rough, hard, abrasive, but that just makes me want to dive in deeper. I am kissing him and his hands are on me. I hear Hannah let loose some manic giggle, excited and gleeful at the turn of events.

He breaks from me and I pull myself up. In an odd way, there is no confusion. The act has begun and the players are different, but it is still the act. There is still another body to pour into as it pours into me. The motions and the sensations are different, sure, but it is still the act. Not quite sure if I would go out of my way to get it, but that can be a decision made in the morning with the harsh clarity of day.

Ken takes a moment to collect himself. I take a moment to take off some of the extraneous layers. Hannah helps. I do not need her help, but it is still appreciated. It feels good to have hands on me and I am learning that the hands and what they belong to don't really matter. Fun thing, really, hands. I like them. Everyone should have hands on that at all points in their life. Never stopping, only touch and poke and fingers digging into soft things and hard things and all sorts of things. I have such a wonderful vision of things that could be. If only the world could change into that with a snap of the fingers.

He closes his eyes and sinks down into his furniture. We watch him slowly sink into the pool of nothing mattering at all. There is no siren, no midnight text, no scream from the world outside, that would pull him from the dissolving pressure. It's amazing to see anyone slowly accept the moment where all the get up and go gets up and leaves. There is nothing, nothing at all.

"You're a good kisser," he says and that warms some weird spot in between my sternum and my stomach.

"He really is," Hannah says, "I don't tell him that though. He doesn't need the ego trip."

"No," I say, "I need the ego trip. How else am I supposed to get up in the morning? I need people to think I'm cool. It's the only reason to live."

Ken laughs and Hannah rolls her eyes and finally, finally, I am with someone who actually appreciates me. I just had to be a bit more experimental with my life. There's the lesson. Experiment and try new things and everyone will find new things to appreciate in their lives.

He pulls me down again and shifts the whole arrangement until he is on top. Hannah seems irked. I was hers and someone else came along and took her tow away. That's just rude. I am meant to be shared and communal, something for everyone. Me being hoarded and treasured only really benefits the one who took. And there is much more joy in sharing.

There is a bit of trepidation when he starts to take the pants off. My pants. The obvious enough next step, and one I knew was coming, but still. New things are scary. They are always scary. They will always be scary. They will never not be scary. And I have a right to be scared when Hannah is behind Ken, moving his hands like her own and I don't like the look in her eyes. Either of them really. Ken has his lid on a bit more, but it still is on the precipice of losing control. That's always where the fun starts, but that first veil tossed and gone is always a step.

I am naked before the pair of them and I don't think I've ever felt so vulnerable. Even as the anxiety creeps back into Ken's eyes.

"Whoa," he whispers small enough for me not to hear him.

"You're not doing that," Hannah sighs, "You're not doing the thing where you say he's big. He's not that big. Like, I'll give you the chance to say it looks really good, because it does, but no. He does not have a big cock."

"He kind of does though. Its not massive, but it's big."

"You can say its massive," I shrug, "I won't mind."

"You're not massive. But you're big. Kinda big. Really big."

"He's not. He's just not. Again. Beautiful, perfect, wonderous, heavenly, but big just does not work."

"How much porn do you watch Hannah?"

"A lot. But still. Not big. Amazing, but not big."

"I think you're outvoted," I say with a smug smile, "I'm obviously a biased party, but two to one. Big. It's big."

"And I still don't think it is. Now, we can sit here and argue whether reality is ultimately a nebulous consensus as arrived by all parties viewing a phenome, or if it is an objective event outside of interpretation, but I'm too horny. Someone suck someone else, or I'm going to leave."

Vulnerable, I am vulnerable and open and all the pride at the three-letter word does not protect me from that. He forces my legs open and there is a bit of fear. In him and in. I might like it. He might get rejected. Neither of us are willing to stop and Hannah keeps goading us both with manic glee. I can feel her shake through the body in front of me, slowly kneeling down, slowly elongating our shared posture. She gets out of the way, kneeling on the floor and coming to rest near my head. She is smiling and I don't know if I like the smile.

In spite of the anxiety, or maybe because of it, I am hard for him. I am hard for him and the glint in his eyes that shine like a dagger edge. I am hard because that is what I am supposed to be. For anyone and everyone, open to be shared and given and taken. I am hard and I am willing and that is starting to eat away at the caution. There is need. How it is fulfilled does not matter. I take what I want from the land of do as I please.

And I want Ken.

In some odd shaped cog way jamming the machine of self, I want him. I want me in him. I want him on me. I want him going through the motions just like Hannah, just like Kieran, just like Alessandra, just like anyone else who comes to the darkened night sky with shining stars. The sun has gone down and night has begun. So, I take what I want and I will do as I please.

My hands go to him and pull him down, Hannah by my side and encouraging every debauched act that crosses my mind. I want Ken over me and he wants to be over me. But he is still too slow for what I want.

There is caution with his lips and his tongue. There is genuine care and worry in the act because there is still the boundary between us. I do not care. He is not doing enough. He is not doing nearly enough for what I want.

It is rougher than Hannah. Rougher than Alessandra too, although I am not sure about Kieran. She is definitely stronger, but the muscle and power exerted is a different texture. I feel the stubble of a day's inattention brush against my thighs and my hips. Hannah is tough. She has to deal with that whenever I do the same to her. She might even like it. There is definitely a bit of an appeal to a degree of roughness.

But he is skilled. He knows, he simply knows what should be done to me and what I want. I close my eyes for a moment and feel his hands. Not as strong as Hannah's, but wider, and again, rougher, more willing to press and assert. I shiver and shudder and keep my eyes closed.

"I think you like it," whispers a sing song Hannah in my ear, "I knew you would."

Ken is content to stay quiet and on task. I am more important than a temptress slithering through the grass. My own pleasure is more important than whatever words come out of her mouth. I have a tongue and a pair of lips attending to me. The ones by my ear serve no purpose.