Exposure (6 page)

Chapter Six

Density

Once we got to my place he admitted that he knew Jean Pierre had been flirting with him and that I might be jealous.

"You should've seen the look on your face!" He broke out laughing. "I could see the wheels spinning." He mimed gears turning beside his ears.

I glared at him and locked the door behind us. "Oh, you are such a naughty boy, Jeremy."

He stopped smiling and stared back at me as I walked toward him. "Jesus fuck..." he whispered as I neared him. His chest rose. "What are you going to do?" He asked, the excitement apparent in his voice.

I stopped very close to him and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "What do you deserve?"

I felt him shiver even though he still had his leather jacket on. He breathed heavily a couple of times then said, so quietly that I almost didn't hear, "A spanking."

My cock pressed against my jeans painfully. I pulled back to look at him. His eyes were closed and I had finally gotten a genuine blush out of him. He opened his eyes and searched mine, presumably for any judgment or disapproval. He found none.

"I deserve a spanking," he said, slowly and deliberately, challenging me with a scorching gaze.

We ripped off our jackets at the same time and let them drop. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the living room.

"Lean over with your hands on the back of the couch." My voice was breathy, but authoritative.

He immediately did so. I walked up behind him. "Jesus, you look so good like that..." I grabbed his hips and pressed my denim-covered erection against his bottom. I could see us in the mirror; we made an arresting tableau. He moaned and pushed back against me.

"Stay still," I commanded and he froze.

"Yes, sir."

Fuck.
This was making me so hard already. I could feel wetness in my pants from my leaking cock. I reached around him and unbuttoned his jeans.

"Where's your underwear, Jeremy?" I said softly as I pulled his pants down and his big hard cock sprang free.

He gasped. "P-probably still in your bedroom."

I was surprised. I hadn't seen them when I'd tidied up.

"Where in my bedroom?"

He started to turn his head.

"Eyes forward." I slapped his ass gently. He moaned and did as he was told. "Where in my bedroom?" I repeated.

He breathed heavily for a moment. "Under your pillow."

Holy shit.
This kid continued to surprise me. "That was very naughty of you, Jeremy." I met his gaze in the mirror and he could see my half smile. His lip quirked up too. I knew he loved this. I moved so that I stood beside him and smoothed my hand over the curve of his firm behind at the same time that I pressed my hard-on against his hip. Then I thought of something.

"Where's the plug?" I asked breathlessly.

He whimpered. "Shit..."

"Is it in your bag?"

He nodded. "Side pocket."

I had washed it thoroughly after our earlier games and given it back to him, so I knew it was clean. "Stay here and don't move."

I found his messenger bag in the entryway and quickly located the stainless steel butt plug in a leather pouch in the side pocket. I grabbed the little tube of lube as well and walked back to the living room. The sight of him leaning over, holding onto the couch with his jeans down around his thighs, watching me with excitement and trepidation, was sublime.

"Eyes forward," I instructed as I neared him. I leaned down and whispered in his ear as I touched the cold metal of the plug to his thigh, "You look so unbelievably hot, Jeremy. You have the most beautiful ass I've ever seen." I trailed the plug over his naked ass and he gasped. "I'm going to put this cold, hard plug in your ass and then I'm going to spank you."

He moaned and trembled. "Fuck, Martin, you are
really
good at this."

I met his gaze in the mirror. I stepped away and squirted some lube into my hand, spreading it over the plug. Then I moved behind Jeremy and ran my lubed fingers along his crack and around his opening, sliding two of them inside him gently.

Jeremy whimpered again and I knew he was ready. I placed the cold tip of the plug against his entrance and pushed it slowly into him.

He groaned and whispered, "Fuck..." as it slid in. It was a beautiful sight. When it was completely inside him and nestled comfortably between his cheeks, I wiggled it back and forth playfully.

"Oh, God," he moaned, "You're gonna make me come..."

"Not yet, Jeremy. Don't you dare come unless I say you can."

"Yes, sir," he said. A jolt of excitement shot through me.

"Are you ready?" I asked, smoothing my hand over his trembling ass.

"Yes, sir."

I drew my hand back and brought it down on him, a little harder than before.

"Oh," he gasped. "Fuck yeah."

I did the same thing again.

"Oh, fuck," he said. "That's perfect, Martin."

I spanked him a third time and I could see his skin pinking up deliciously. He moaned. "Do
you
like it?"

I let a heavy breath out, not even realizing I'd been holding it. "Yes," I whispered. I spanked him again.

"Every time you do that," he gasped, "the goddamn plug moves inside me...and it feels so fucking good..."

I spanked him again and he moaned. "Oh fuck! Stop or I'll come-- I can't help it..."

I did stop. "My hand's getting sore anyway..."

He laughed and groaned at the same time. I smiled at my admission.
He's the one with a rosy ass and I'm complaining about my hand.

He straightened up and stroked his cock a couple of times for some relief, closing his eyes. He opened them and stared at me as I rubbed myself through my jeans. "What now?" I said.

He reached down and pulled up his pants, without doing them up, since his cock was way too big and hard to stuff back in them. He grinned. "Now it's your turn."

I must have gone quite pale.

"I'm not going to spank you, Martin." He reassured me. "I know it's not for everyone." He moved slowly toward me. I couldn't help taking a step back. "I have some other ideas." He grabbed my wrist and spun me around so my back was to him. He grabbed my other wrist and pressed his cock against my ass.

"Bedroom. Now." He gave me a shove and I obeyed, because whatever he was going to do to me would be glorious. I just had to relax. He closed the bedroom door behind us and stared at me.

"Take off your shirt."

I did so, quickly.

"And pants."

I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my socks, and pulled off my pants, tossing everything in a pile by the dresser. I stood before him, naked and hard and waiting for him to tell me what to do next.

His eyes raked over me, stopping at my straining cock. "Wow," he murmured, "Look how hard you got from spanking my ass."

He stripped off his shirt and moved toward me, still with his jeans and those goddamn orgasmic boots on. He closed the distance and wrapped his hand around my cock, rubbing it gently against his own erection, making me groan and close my eyes. Then he released my cock, his hands coming up and grabbing my head, guiding my mouth to his. We kissed deeply, hungrily, our cocks pressed between us.

Then he pulled away and pushed me down to the bed. I lay back and he climbed over me. "That was a great idea about the plug. It felt so good. It still feels incredible...I love having hard things in my ass."

I moaned. "You are entirely shameless," I murmured as he licked and kissed my neck.

"Mmm hmm. Do you like it when I say dirty things like that?" He moved down and tongued my nipple.

I hissed. "Yes."

He tongued it roughly a few times then pulled back to look at me. "Has anybody ever fucked
you
, Martin?"

I blushed, embarrassed by the subject and also embarrassed to admit that no one had. Yet. Honestly, until Jeremy had come along I didn't really have any interest in it. But I would let Jeremy do whatever he wanted to me.

"No," I admitted, "But you could. I mean, if you want to..."

He smiled. "Oh Martin...I would love to fuck your ass so hard..." He closed his eyes as if he were imagining it. I felt my cock grow immeasurably harder. "But I don't think you're ready for that just yet. It takes time to prepare for that."

"Oh, right." I knew that, but I was kind of disappointed. This man had turned me into a brainless sex machine. I loved it.

"But, Martin..." Jeremy murmured and reached a hand down to my cock. "Preparing you for full on fucking is going to be..." He wet his finger with the moisture on my cock. The next thing I knew he was rubbing it very gently against my opening in tiny circles, until he pressed gently and the tip slipped into me.

"...so much fun." I gasped at the surprise and the pleasure of it. He wiggled his finger gently back and forth. I moaned. "Oh fuck..."

Suddenly his mouth closed around my aching cock and his finger pushed further inside me. I cried out wildly at the intensity of it. His mouth, his beautiful, hot, wet mouth, felt heavenly on my cock, and the sensation of his finger in my ass was amazing. I imagined what it would be like to have the plug inside me--or, even better, his long, hard, slippery cock. I groaned and shuddered; I was getting close. As if he sensed it he released me and stood up, leaning over to unlace his boots and kick them off, followed by his pants. Then he kneeled over me, pulling me up to my knees. He kissed me crazily, passionately, and moaned into my mouth.

"I need your cock inside me." He was breathing heavily. "Fucking now. Fucking right now."

He was desperate, shaking and trembling. I turned him around and pushed him forward, grabbing the lube and a condom from my bedside table. I prepared myself and slowly eased the plug out of him. I pushed into him, groaning at the ecstasy of it and marveling at the heat and the tightness. Once I was all the way inside I slid my arm under his chest and pulled him up against me so that he was sitting on my lap. I held him there and nuzzled his neck as I gently rocked against him. His hands grasped my forearm. He let his head rest against my shoulder, giving himself over to me completely.

We rocked back and forth together, our passionate sounds mingling and bursting forth in a luscious symphony of pleasure. We moved like that for a long time, slowly and deliciously and tenderly and, dare I say, lovingly? When I knew he wouldn't last much longer I wrapped my wet fingers around his cock and stroked him, faster and faster as I pumped more quickly inside him.

"You...are...so...beautiful..." I whispered in his ear as I fucked him with my cock and my hand. "I...love...fucking...you..."

I almost,
almost
, left out the word "fucking," but I knew it was way too soon to tell him how I really felt. I didn't want to scare him away. So I used my body to show him how I felt about him. Soon he cried out and trembled in my arms, coming all over my hand and himself. His orgasm seemed to go on and on, and I kept moving inside him and pumping his cock until it played out. Then I grabbed his hips and pumped my own cock in and out a few times until I climaxed explosively inside him, groaning and grunting in complete abandon.

We collapsed on the bed and held each other close as we tumbled back to earth. After a little while I pulled out of him and disposed of the condom, then turned and pulled him against me. He closed his eyes and a lazy smile lit up his gorgeous face. "That was...I can't even describe it," he murmured tiredly.

I grinned and kissed him gently on his cheek. "You're incredible."

He opened one eye. "You liked the spanking part."

I rolled my eyes. "So did you."

"Fuck, Martin. I liked all of it. A lot. A whole lot."

After we recovered ourselves we showered without too much distraction. We were both pretty tired. I lent Jeremy a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. We cuddled in front of the TV and ate the candy that Jeremy had bought. I'd never been crazy about candy, but when Jeremy was with me, everything tasted good. So we shared the caramel corn and the licorice. Jeremy had already demonstrated to me the various uses of pop rocks and there were none left.

We watched one lame TV show after another, making fun of everything and everyone, laughing and joking like kids. Jeremy's cell phone rang a couple of times but he let it go to voicemail. At about eleven we got into bed. I pulled Jeremy against me into a spooning embrace.

"I feel like I just made you up in my head and you're going to disappear," I said.

"I'm not going to disappear. Although I will have to go home tomorrow."

"I know. But please have breakfast with me first?"

"Breakfast, breakfast? Or euphemism breakfast?"

I laughed. "I'm so fucking tired I can only think about actual breakfast. I make very good omelets."

"Sounds wonderful," he murmured, and we both fell asleep.

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Chapter Seven

Distortion

In the very early morning I woke up, reached for Jeremy and felt nothing. I was alone in my bed. My stomach clenched in dread as I sat up and searched the room. When I saw his messenger bag against the wall and a light coming from the kitchen, I felt a huge sense of relief. I glanced at the clock. It was 4:41.

I got quietly out of bed and padded into the living room. In the moonlight I could see Jeremy sitting cross-legged before the big mirror, staring at his reflection. I wasn't sure what he was doing so I stood still for a minute and watched him. When I saw him inhale a shaky breath, I realized he'd been crying.

"Jeremy," I said.
Shit, what's wrong?
"Jesus, did I hurt you?"

He turned to look at me, his face pale and wet with tears. But he shook his head and tried to smile. "It's nothing." He said. "It's nothing, Martin. Go back to bed."

But it was so obviously not nothing that I couldn't leave him there sitting on the floor. "Tell me I didn't hurt you...I didn't mean to..."

"You didn't hurt me, Martin." He stared at me, his voice calm, his face full of pain.

"What is it? You have to tell me. I'm freaking out over here!"

He shook his head and started to get up, but it seemed like he had hardly any strength in his legs all of a sudden. He
couldn't
get up.

"Jesus Christ, Jeremy." I rushed over to him. "What the fuck is going on? Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm okay. But do you think you could drive me to the hospital?"

"Of course, but...what is going on?" Now I really started to freak out. It could be a stroke or something. "Maybe I should call 911."

"No, just...just help me up." I grabbed hold of him and helped him stand, which he was able to do, thank God. But he leaned on me heavily. "Thanks. Man, this is so embarrassing. Just, help me to the couch, okay?"

I helped him over to the couch. He sat down, leaning his head back against the cushions and closing his eyes. I saw a couple of tears pool at the corners. "Why the fuck did this have to happen now?" He opened his eyes and looked to me for an answer. I didn't have one. I didn't know
what
was going on. "I mean, I finally happen on a really good thing, I mean an amazingly good thing, and I'm having the time of my life and--fuck!" He brought his fist down on his knee and grimaced. "I'm sorry. I sound like a whiny geriatric patient."

"Jeremy, tell me what's going on right now or I'm calling 911," I said with all the authority I could muster.

"Well, I guess this is a good time to tell you I have Multiple Sclerosis."

What?
"You do?"

"That would be why I can't stand up right now."

I stared at him. It seemed like he was trying to make a joke out of it. I wasn't laughing. I said, very quietly, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I was fine and I figured I'd give this relationship some time before I dropped the bomb. Obviously, God had a different idea." He put a hand to his forehead, as if he had a headache.

I took a deep breath, trying to assimilate this new information. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head. "Only my pride. Do you know anything about MS?"

I shook my head. "Not...really."

"Well it can be dormant or in remission for a long time. Then it surprises the crap out of you and you wake up with weird symptoms. That's called a relapse. Right now I've got some numbness and weakness in my legs that wasn't there yesterday."

I didn't understand. "But--is it permanent?"

He shook his head. "Probably not."

"
Probably
not?"

He shrugged. "I'm not upset that it happened. I mean, it's partly my fault because I stopped taking my meds. I'm just pissed that it had to happen right now." He looked up at me. "Martin, for God's sake, sit down. I can't stand you hovering over me like that."

I sat down beside him, my tired, stunned brain trying to take it all in.

"I was hoping to have some time to ease you into all this." He closed his eyes again. "That is, if you want to be involved in it at all."

I stared at him and all I wanted to do was gather him into my arms. But I didn't.

"I
am
involved in it," I said quietly. "I'm involved with you. I mean," I put my head in my hands. "I think I'm falling in love with you...so could you please explain to me why we don't have to call 911 but you want to go to the hospital?"

He didn't respond and I lifted my head to look at him. He stared at me with the weirdest expression on his face. "What did you just say?"

Oh no.
"I said, could you please explain why you--"

"No. Before that," he said.

"Fine. You want me to say it again? I think I'm falling in love with you. I know it's only been a couple of weeks, but they've been the best weeks of my life. I think about you all the time. I can't get enough of you."

When he spoke, it was in a soft voice. "I don't think I need to go to the hospital. Not yet, anyway. I just kind of panicked a bit."

I looked at him. "But your legs!" I didn't understand.

"Martin, it's probably a pseudo-relapse. I've had these symptoms before."

"You have?" I didn't know what a relapse was, let alone a pseudo-relapse.

He nodded. "About three years ago, my legs went numb and I lost the use of them. I had to use a wheelchair for three months."

I just stared at him.

"They gave me steroids and I went on medication. I got better. But I stopped taking my meds about six months ago because I thought maybe I didn't need them anymore. It was stupid." He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, I guess I was in denial."

It was hard to believe any of this but the evidence was right in front of me. He'd seemed so healthy, so energetic. I'd never in a million years have guessed that he had any kind of illness. "What's a pseudo-relapse?"

"It's when some of the residual symptoms come back, or get worse. It might last a couple of days. An actual relapse involves brand new symptoms, like if I woke up and couldn't talk or see properly or something. I mean, I think that's how it works. It's all very confusing." He paused. "An actual relapse can last several weeks or sometimes months."

"That could happen to you? I mean the trouble speaking or seeing?"

He nodded. "It could. But I'm not going to worry about it. There's nothing I can do about it anyway."

I sat there, stunned. Here was this beautiful man telling me he wasn't sure he'd be able to see or talk someday and he wasn't going to worry about it.

"I'm really tired. Do you mind if I just lie down and try to go back to sleep?"

I'm sure I looked terrified.

"Hey, I'm okay. Sometimes these symptoms just mean I need to take it easy for a bit. If we go to the hospital now I'll just end up sitting in Emergency for six to eight hours waiting while they try to call in a neurologist to see me. I might as well wait until Monday and go directly to the MS clinic."

"Okay. Just promise you'll tell me if you change your mind about going to the hospital."

He nodded. "Promise."

I stood up. "Come on, I'll help you back to bed."

I helped him stand up and walk back to the bedroom. He
could
walk, thank goodness, but he was limping and definitely needed my assistance. I helped him lie down and then crawled in beside him.

"Is this okay?" I asked as I slipped my arm around him and held him close. "I mean, can you sleep with me here?"

"Mmm hmm," he murmured. "Don't go anywhere."

I nuzzled his neck, listening as his breathing deepened and he drifted off to sleep.

Unfortunately, even nestled against his warm, relaxed body, there was no chance that
I
was going back to sleep. I thought about everything that had been revealed to me over the last forty-five minutes and considered the impact it might have on our very new relationship. He said that he hoped to have more time to "ease me into" the knowledge of his disease and I could understand why. It was a lot to take in. I'm sure he worried it would be too much for me and I'd bail.

Once he fell into a deep sleep I very carefully extricated myself and slipped out of bed, tucking the blanket around him so he'd stay warm. I left the bedroom and closed the door most of the way so my movements wouldn't disturb him. I went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. It was 6:10 am. Since it was late October and the time hadn't changed yet, the sun had not yet risen. When the coffee finished brewing, I poured a cup and sat on the sofa, looking out at the darkness and hoping that Jeremy would be somewhat better by the time the sky lightened.

I was sitting on the sofa reading
Outside
magazine about two hours later when I heard a sound behind me. I turned to see Jeremy standing in my bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame.

"Morning," he said quietly and smiled.

I stood up and walked toward him. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Better. My balance is still off and I've still got the numbness. But I made it this far on my own, so some of the strength is back."

"That's good news?"

"Yep. It's not getting worse. If I rest up over the next few days, hopefully I'll be fine."

"I'll help you to the couch." I held out my arm.

He shook his head. "Thanks, but I want to see if I can do it. Just be ready to catch me." He winked at me and I felt a familiar tightening in my loins. I moved aside but stayed nearby. I wouldn't let him fall.

He let go of the doorframe and walked carefully forward. He wobbled a little and there still seemed to be some weakness in his right leg, but he managed all right and seemed very happy to close the distance to the sofa on his own speed. He sat down with a sigh of relief. "That's a definite improvement."

"Yes, it is," I agreed.

He looked at me. "I'm sorry for freaking you out last night."

I shook my head. "Don't apologize. I'm just glad you're feeling better."

There was an awkward silence. Then Jeremy said, "I seem to recall something about omelets?"

God, I'm an idiot
. I was just standing here and he needed some breakfast. "Of course. How about a cup of tea?"

He seemed surprised. "You have tea?"

I nodded.

"Well, well, how civilized. I'd love a cup of tea."

"How do you take it?"

He grinned at me and it was the Jeremy I knew. "Anyway you like." And I knew he wasn't talking about the tea.

"Jesus, Jeremy, don't get me worked up. You need to rest."

He laughed. "I'm sorry. I like my tea black."

"And what would you like in your omelet?"

"Surprise me."

"Okay." I knelt down in front of him. "I meant what I said last night."

"I know you did." His gaze was honest and unafraid. "I'm developing some pretty strong feelings for you too." He reached out and pulled me to him. I slid my hands around him and rested my head against his belly. He smelled so good.

"Anyway, let's not worry about that yet. Let's just keep having fun. I'm having so much fun, Martin. If it's meant to be we won't be able to stop it."

He was right.

His stomach suddenly rumbled. I moved out of the embrace and stood up. "One omelet surprise, coming up."

After Jeremy ate his western omelet and finished his tea, he changed back into his clothes and I drove him home. He lived in a townhouse in Blossom Park with two roommates who tended to party and were not very tidy.

He almost fell as we climbed the steps to his front door but he grabbed onto me and I steadied him. I took the opportunity to ask him if his roommates knew he was gay. He told me they did and were cool about it, but that we probably shouldn't "mack" in front of them.

"I'll try to control myself," I said, rolling my eyes. I stayed close as he opened the door and moved inside. He used the doorframe and the wall of the entry to keep his balance.

"Jeremy!
Que pasa
?" A scruffy looking, bearded young man in sweat pants and a t-shirt lounged on the living room sofa, eating what looked like pizza from a box on the coffee table.

"Hey, Kurt." Jeremy greeted him. "Charlie still asleep?"

Kurt nodded. "He had a gig last night. Didn't roll in until three am." He noticed that Jeremy was leaning on the wall. "You okay?"

Jeremy shrugged. "Just a bit unsteady today." He gestured to me. "Kurt, this is Martin. Martin, Kurt."

Kurt put down his pizza and came over to greet me and get a better look at Jeremy. He wiped his hand on his pants and held it out to me. We shook briefly. "Nice to meet you." He looked at Jeremy. "You look tired."

"I'm fine, Kurt," Jeremy said firmly. "But would you mind grabbing my cane for me? It's at the back of my closet."

Kurt nodded and glanced at me before heading down the hallway. I suddenly felt guilty, like Jeremy's current condition was
my
fault.