“That’s not… you can’t do that… you smarmy, sexy bastard… how do you even… I just….”
He groaned. “You can’t sputter at me if you’re not planning to let me do dirty things to you. It’s not fair.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He patted the be
d next to him.
I gathered what little courage I had and slunk over to the bed. If he wanted me as much as he said he did (and if him jerking off as he watched me was any indication, he wanted me a lot), then I wanted to give him a little show of it before I climbed onto the bed. So I took what I considered to be a reasonably sexy step toward him, my slightly bedazzled jeans hanging low on my hips. According to the speed of his hand on his cock, the next step I took was even sexier, and I threw a little roll in my hips for good measure. I can’t believe I’m doing this! I thought. Me! Paul Auster. This is like some James Bond shit. Well, if James Bond was an overweight American homosexual in bedazzled jeans.
It was because I was focusing on my sexy walk—to make up for my lack of sexy everything else—that I did not see the pair of shoes on the floor near the edge of the bed. I had started to let my pants drop as I took another step. My left foot caught the sole of a shoe lying on its side, causing me to stumble. My pants had dropped down to my knees, and since they were my bedazzled jeans, they were tighter than what I normally wore. That being the case, they restricted any kind of graceful movement, such as when one trips over a discarded shoe. So while I might have been able to correct myself while partially wearing normal pants, the power of the bedazzled jeans halfway down my legs gave no such room for correction.
I tripped and fell with a supremely unsexy squawk (sounding eerily like Johnny Depp, so much so that I thought about yelling out, “Paul’s a fairy queen!”), and my face bounced off the edge of the bed. His mattress must have been the springiest I’d ever encountered, or my head must have weighed more than the eight pounds he claimed it should, because the force of the bounce propelled me back up until I tipped over the opposite way, landing on my back at the foot of his bed, staring up at the ceiling. My pants were at my shins, my cock and balls were just doing their own thing out in the open, and I was wishing that a megavolcano would rise up in the middle of Tucson and drown us all instantly in lava so I wouldn’t have to face what was coming.
A face peered over the bed at me, eyes wide, laughter stifled.
“Before you say anything,” I told Vince, “just know that I did that on purpose. There’s nothing that says, ‘Hey, come fuck me’ like tripping awkwardly and falling to the floor.”
“Your face,” he giggled. He giggled!
“Yes.”
“It bounced off the bed.”
“I was there. I remember that part clearly.”
“It was good up to that point.”
“Was it?”
“Yes, but then it got awesome.”
“I’m glad my attempts at seduction were so amusing.”
“If that was what you were attempting, I can’t wait to see what happens when you actually succeed.”
I sighed. “I’m pretty sure that’ll defy all logic and the world will explode.”
“Paul?”
“Yeah?”
He disappeared for a moment, then returned, and in one smooth, fluid motion, he slid off the bed and landed on top of me, sliding his naked body up mine. My dick, which had previously died of embarrassment, was resur-erected, glory be to God. Vince moved his hips against mine, propping him himself up with his hands on either side of my head. He filled my vision until he was all I could see. I knew I could hide by closing my eyes, but I didn’t want to. I couldn’t find the strength to look away.
“Paul,” he said again, his voice deeper as our groins rubbed together.
“Yeah.”
“Remember how yesterday you showed me the hippo video on YouTube, and I told you I was halfway in love with you?”
“I didn’t show you jack shit, but yeah. I remember.” It was all I could think about. It was all I could hear, repeated in my head over and over again.
He leaned down on his strong arms and kissed me, eyes opened. “I’m pretty sure I’m about three-fourths of the way there now.”