Up for Air Pt. 02

I had still been reeling from my escapade a week ago. Not because of what had happened. Well, partially. But it was more what I had said. Not-Aaron and I had fully interacted for the night, with familiarity. Worse though, he heard me tell Aaron that I loved him. Which is probably not something that you should say while under the influence of copious amounts of drugs, but hell. It had been grueling to think about partially because I can't really go to Aaron himself and say "Hey, I told one of your frat bros I love you and I was just wondering which of them has the hands of a god." I'd get laughed out of the house and probably never spoken to again. Curiosity was pushing me to ask but I doubted Aaron even knew. Pulling out my phone, I check to see that Jamie was going to be meeting me outside of my class. For some reason, she's trying to put in the detective work to find out my mysterious stranger.

"Trevor, if you tell me you don't want to know one more time, I swear I'm throwing you a party to celebrate the fact you're going to die alone. Let me help you," her text reads. I sigh, knowing that fighting with her is something I couldn't really do, and besides, her heart was in the right place. Fortunately for me, this is my only class today. It's called Storytelling in Media, and it basically just highlights how to tell a story via a specific medium. For me, it's creative writing. Last month, people showed their films. Someone brought in a photo album. Honestly, part of it all seemed to just stroke the Professor's Ego as almost everyone did a thank you to the professor in the notes. To be fair, it's a cream puff class that solely exists to get some extra credits for your degree.

"-And that will be all for today. This month, the assignment is a more personal kind. I want something that speaks from the heart, and what you desire most. I expect headway on the check-in in two weeks. Lichen, I trust you have something prepared already." Professor Talia Myko spoke. She was calling on me. Why was she calling on me?

"N-Not quite, ma'am. I was wondering if you had a preferred medium written for the assignment." I was putting stuff in my messenger bag, glancing around the room, hoping no one was looking at me. Another student near the front, still sitting. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me, given his sunglasses, but I was in his peripherals.

"If you're asking for a challenge, I want a simple poetry collection from you. Ten Poems. Varying lengths and techniques. How does that sound?"

"I'll do my best, ma'am!" I've got everything in my bag as she starts talking to a girl who was asking questions about the rating of the project. As I depart, there's this sensation of eyes boring through me. Trying to communicate.

Once I'm outside the classroom, I just keep moving to the foyer, where Jamie is waiting. She gives me a hug and I return the kindness. "How was class?" Her question seems more like a prompt.

"Poetry Collection. About what the heart wants." I look behind me, feeling those eyes still watching me.

"Oooh, gonna write some poems about the Magic Touch Guy?" She laughs a little, and it gets a smirk out of me. "I was thinking about that. Y'know. In case you were worried, you weren't the intended victim of that drink. That weird guy that hit me up that night. He bought me that drink. I took the one he bought for himself and me and walked away. I must have, by extension, been the one to drug you, unintentionally."

"I was squirming with the thought that you had drugged me with the intent to seduce me. Especially since I know you want to peg me." Her laughter disrupts the nearest conversations. "Honestly, I don't mind what happened. I was aware and cognizant enough to make a move with him. Even if I had wrongly identified him. And he DID say no to taking advantage of my mouth or anything like that."

"You say that but I mean, he gave you a handjob."

"If the worst I can expect of men is that they give me a handjob while I'm wrecked out of my mind, then the world has changed too much for me to keep living. But, you said you had an idea as to how to find this guy?"

"You could ask Aaron."

"I'm not doing that," I retort, coldly. I don't want to tell him about any of this. I kind of don't even want to chase this guy down, whenever I think of Aaron.

"Why? Listen to me. He's not interested in that. A relationship. He's never going to be-"

"Yeah. I know. He's never going to be ready for a relationship because Lee broke his heart. That's why he doesn't stay in a relationship for longer than two months. But... It's different between us. We understand each other." She sighs at my response. It's that dejected sigh of "I know you won't listen to me." I hear it every now and again. Mostly when we talk about Aaron.

"Fine. You don't want to ask Aaron. We could ask the bouncer if he could give you a description of the guy you left with," she offers "which would mean finding out who worked as the bouncer for the beer garden and dance floor. Then see if he remembers you. Then see if he remembers who you left with. IF it was a he."

"You're going to make me ask Aaron, aren't you?"

She laughs, and I groan. "Yup. You clearly loved the way that guy handled you. I mean you wouldn't shut up about it for two days. So like, maybe just push in the direction of that."

"Fine, I'll go over there, later to-"

"Go now, so you don't talk yourself out of it," she interrupts.

It's a short drive over there, as my mind races on how I can even approach the subject. How do I even start? I think about that moment, when me and the Stranger's eyes met. How I felt at that moment, he had the power to ruin me. Did I like him having that power? That kind of intimacy. I'm standing on the front porch. I reach for the door as Thomas, Aaron's boyfriend, opens it.

"Oh! Hey! How's it going?" He asks. His voice is so chipper.

"Oh, I'm good! Just stopping by to see Aaron, cause uh... I had an important question to ask him about," I fully blank out. Thinking about what I could say that'd make sense. "Business management?" Thomas smirks, his hair wet. He must have just showered.

"Fun! Well, I've gotta get to my shift at Starbucks. I'll see you round, Trevor." I praise any god who will listen that he didn't investigate that topic with me. As he walks away, I can't help but check him out. He's very slim. He is double cheeked though. For a moment, I'm imagining hearing clapping as he walks away. I don't blame Aaron for getting exclusive with that as soon as he can. Focusing on the matter at hand, I head inside. There's a few frat bros that are gaming in the living room. I head upstairs to Aaron's room and knock. His door opens, his shirt off. He's sweaty and his abs look like they shine, or they would if he wasn't ghostly pale. Well I guess that explains why Thomas looked freshly showered. I feel a surge of jealousy for a moment. It's fine. Him and Thomas will break up in a couple of weeks and I'll be the one leaving here after we hook up.

"Trevor? What's up?" He asks, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Erm. I was wondering if you..." He's looking at me. Finish the question. He can tell I'm blanking. "Could put me in touch with the photographer. I really liked my costume, and I was wondering if he had any decent shots of me."

"That's incredibly vain. And unlike you. But you would have seen all the shots on Phi Alpha Phi's Instagram or website." Aaron's hazel eyes pierce through me, knowing I was full of shit.

"Well, maybe he didn't send them for proofing. Y'know, I heard that photographers will take hundreds of shots that don't even get a second look. Besides, I know a few cosplay groups that would probably pay good money for a professional shoot," I respond, thinking rather quickly on my feet. I never liked being spoken down to. "It's hard to get a professional shot of someone in costume, I feel."

"Fine," Aaron groans at me before leading me up another set of stairs to the third floor of the house, where there were only two bedrooms up here. I knew that the door on the right was a guest bedroom. However, the door on the left had two locks on it. I had always wondered what was going on in there. Aaron knocks twice. I hear both deadbolts lock, and then a chain lock drop. Opening the door is the guy from my Storytelling class in sunglasses. He's got this blonde hair and sharp jawline. He's incredibly handsome from what I can tell. It's hard to get a real read on him, when part of his face is obscured by sunglasses. I was right on my first assumption that he had a muscular build, but I had underestimated how big his shoulders were, as well as his chest."My friend, Trevor, would like to know if you got any good shots of him in costume at the party last week."

"Hm? You were the," I think his eyes scan my face for a moment, "Greaser Devil! Yeah, I got a couple of you in line."

"G-Great! Can I see them?" He looks at Aaron who shrugs.

"Yeah, come on in. You want to see too, Aaron?"

"His nerd stuff doesn't pique my interest, unfortunately. You're in it alone, Mitchell," replies Aaron, coolly. Like he's too important to handle this stuff. He then walks down the stairs, disappearing into the hallway. Mitchell guides me into his room and walks me over to his desk. I'm surprised at how cold and how dark his room is. I nearly stumble over something.

"Oh! Sorry. I kinda forget that I didn't turn the light on." He leans over and flips the switch. Now that I can see much better, I notice a lot of nerd stuff on the shelves, like Figures from games, and a bookshelf full of Fantasy novels. Trying not to get caught snooping, I see the bottom shelf is filled with photo-albums, and next to the shelf is a locked safe. "So, you wanted to see the shots I got from the night of the party."

"Can I ask how you see anything with your sunglasses on all the time?"

"I take them off for shoots and stuff like that. Don't worry, they're prescription. Okay, here are all the photos with you in them." He shows me his computer screen and it's an album of me bumping into him. There's a couple that have noticeably been touched up.

"How late were you shooting?" I ask, clearly curious at the fact that a couple were of me on the dancefloor.

"Eh, I left at about midnight." Well that sinks my hope that he caught who I left with. I can feel the disappointment on my face. And it's clear he sees it.

"Oh. I was hoping you had seen who I left with," my voice echoes in the room, I can hear my own dismay.

"Trevor. We left at the same time. I brought you here. What do you remember?" My heart skips a beat. This guy brought me here?

"Well... I remember freaking out on the dancefloor, and being dragged out of the Beer Garden. And then it's a bit of a blur." There's relief in his eyes for a moment. I debate saying more. And then I hear Jamie's voice in the back of my mind. Nothing good comes from drowning yourself in anxiety. "We shared an... experience."

"And you told me, you loved Aaron," he says calmly. Like he expected this conversation. "Which is kind of mind-blowing because fucking why?"

"Well, in my defence, I was incredibly high and also I just had what could only be described as the most sensual handy of my life," I reply. My tone is sharp. Cutting. "And if it bothers you that I have feelings for him so much, then why did you say no to me?"

"Cause you were fucked up, dumbass," his voice reflects his frustration. "In all the time, I had tried to start a conversation with you, I didn't think you'd be this fucking oblivious. All the intrigue about you goes out the window the minute you open your mouth."

I frown. I'd like to think I was rather insightful about people. Then again, I fully believed Mitchell was Aaron. "If you really wanted to start a conversation with me, why didn't you actually have one with me in class? Or stop me on our way out of class?"

"And say what? 'Hey, I think your short story really reflected your own personal loneliness and your deep seated personal feelings of self-inflicted isolation,'" He growls out. I didn't think it was written with that intent. I've been told my subconscious voice often writes louder than my conscious one though. That short story he referenced was about a man in a locked room. He could leave but he never wanted to.

"You don't even know me, Mitchell. You can't speak to-" He cuts me off.

"I do know you, Trevor. Not as much as I'd like, but I know you. How you get this somber sad puppy look when someone tells you to stop talking about your passion. Or the smile you get when someone remembers a detail about something you mentioned earlier. Or the soft whimpers you make when something feels really good," he says standing up. Even though he's shorter than me by a couple of inches, I can feel him overpowering me already. "I know how much you wanted it to be Aaron. Because you think he's the only person who can love you. Because you push away people who aren't him, in hopes that he'll notice how devoted you are." Mitchell leans in, clearly proud of the way his words have gotten under my skin. "But most of all, I know how alone you feel, hoping someone would notice how desperately you're hanging on. Can I-" I lean in and kiss him. Something about the way he spoke, told me to. He kisses me back. Softly at first as he pushes me into the wall, gently. I reach up to his face, pulling at his sunglasses. I think that was the worst thing about this. Was seeing myself, reflected in his glasses. Seeing everything he was saying, and knowing it. He smiles at me as he kisses at my neck, before pulling away and flicking the deadbolt. Turning to face me, I finally get to drink him in. For the first time, I get to see his eyes. I had always assumed that heterochromia was something that I'd never see in my life. I'd see it on TV and stuff like that, but I was surprised at how beautiful his eyes were. His left is the water of an island beach, that soft aqua blue, and his right is a lush emerald jungle with motes of sunlight refracting through the trees. And I realized how much I loved it. "I know it's-"

"Amazing," I cut him off. I pull him to me and he's kissing me once more, a more renewed fervor than that first kiss. His hands had already gotten under my shirt, pulling it off. His left hand slides down my back as his right works it's way around the front, sliding upwards. He laughs as I let out one of those whimpers. Immediately, my face reddens out of embarrassment. My hands are over his shoulders as he continues to kiss me. I'm choosing to just trust him. Let him guide me. It isn't long before his hand is on my neck. Not pressuring or choking me. Just... there and it's enough to get me to lean into his touch.

"I hope you realize how hard it was for me to tell you no, now. On your knees." I nod as his hand on my neck gently pulls me downwards, before moving to my shoulder. His other hand glides up my back as I descend before resting on the back of my head. I'm face to face with his bulge. I quickly undo his belt buckle and pull it off, but he stops me from throwing it away. "Maybe for later," he says, looking down on me. His megawatt smile has me reaching for the button on his pants, but I fumble. He, literally, takes matters into his own hands, pulling his pants down for me. His underwear slid down with his pants, as his shirt is pulled up over his head. In front of me is nine solid inches of dick. I had thought this kind of dick only existed in porn. It had this upwards curve to it, with a surprising amount of girth. I reach up, putting my hand around the base of it, and my middle finger barely grazes my thumb, in contact. I do a soft stroke upwards, watching his balls move. They're as big as ping pong balls, and hang pretty freely an inch down from his dick. As I bring the stroke down, I see myself having a staring contest with his one eyed snake. I lean forward licking the tip. He lets out a soft moan, before bringing his hand to the back of my head. He's not forcing me further as I begin to suckle at the tip. Instead, his fingers gently brush through my hair. I continue to slowly work his dick with my mouth. I'm impressed. A few of my other partners weren't big fans of the impromptu blowjobs but Mitchell's sweat added an almost addictive taste to it.

It's time to see how much I can take. As I stroke down, I follow my hand with my lips, getting about seven inches into my mouth. I hear him moan loudly as my tongue slips around the parts of his head that might not ever feel the touch of flesh. It becomes clear that we have the same goal as now he's gently thrusting into my mouth. I let my hand release the grip on him as he pulls back and thrusts further in. I've got almost all of it in when I gag. Hard. My hands move up his thighs, sliding around to his ass. I grab a hold of the muscled mounds, and he really starts humping me. Even with the aggression and dominance of him moaning and fucking my face, there's this tenderness. He's very careful not to trigger my gag reflex again, edging himself further and further. I can taste the pre-cum he's leaking as he pulls out to just the tip. Damn. If I thought his touch was enough to send me reeling in pleasure, that feeling was enough to shake me to my damn core. I shiver and his fingers find the scar on the back of my head. They move over it as he goes all the way into my throat. I don't gag. I don't move. I don't push back or pull away. I simply pull him in.

"Holy fucking shit. You've got a deep throat," his exclamation brings me a joy I didn't know I could feel. I try to pull away to say more and he shoves his dick back in. "There's no need to talk, babe. I'll take care of you. You just need to take care of me." Flustered, as he continues to go at my throat, I hold a hand up and give him a thumbs up, prompting a laugh. It's enough to get him to double over and pull out of my mouth. "You're so fucking cute. You know that?" My face reddens as his thumb comes to my lower jaw and I open wide. His left hand pulls on my head and I'm pulled into his sac. I suckle and lick at the bag, desperately wanting him to know how much I want this. I want him to fuck me. Looking up at him, I see him looking down. Like he's drinking in every detail of me. And like he's doing that with me, I'm committing his dick to memory. I'll never forget the taste or how to make him feel this good. He smiles at me. Before too long, I'm back to working his shaft. He steps forward, pinning my head to the wall. There's nowhere to go as he leans against the wall and begins thrusting in, fucking my mouth. And he's not gentle. I can feel his balls slapping against my chin. I reach down, unbuckling my pants, and beginning to stroke myself. He's moaning loudly. Loud enough Aaron can hear. I'm sure of it.

Good. Let him hear. Mitchell's body tenses up and I notice that his stomach tightens, and for a moment, I wonder if he's about to cum. He doesn't, but he pauses. Pulling back, I see his penis in all it's glory. He's panting, as am I. "Why'd you stop?" I hear those words escape my mouth surprisingly quickly.

"Well, I wanted to ask but you got the better of me. Trevor, can I cum in your mouth?" The way he asks. Like there was ever a possibility of me saying no. This wasn't the dominant tone from before. This was asking for explicit permission.

"You're asking me for consent at this point?" I laugh, gently stroking him.

"I'll start begging if it'll do the trick for you. But I want to know that you want this too." A sincerity in his voice that resounds through me. I was right about that look we shared because we're sharing it once again. If I say yes to him right now, he'll forever know how much I want him to burn away everything else. And I can feel how badly he wants me to say yes. Maybe it's me having this introspective moment, but I can hear him moan from me stroking him. "If you want me to cum on your face, I'll settle for that. I'd love to do that as well."