Pillow Talk By Scott Baxter Just as I enter the flat my phone pings. <remember me?> Sean. I only left him at the club a half hour ago. I shouldn’t have given him my number but it was all I could do to get out of there and away from him. He messages me that his boyfriend (Andre is it?) is off to one of their mate’s but Sean isn’t feeling up to it. He’s at a loose end. He’s looking for company. I know what’s coming. He wants to come over. I’m delaying my replies, hoping he gets bored with me. Ghosting. What am I playing at? He’s cute but I’m being offered it on a plate. It doesn’t feel right. There is no excitement to the chase. <nightcap?> I send him my address. What ‘am’ I playing at? I’m actually not that tired or drunk due to the walk back. Let’s see how it goes. <I’ll get a taxi if I can> After I kick off my boots I have a look through the kitchen. Some bottles of lager and a half-drunk bottle of white in the fridge, some vodka in the freezer. In one of the cupboards there is some random red left over from a party. That will do. The door buzzer jolts me from my sleep. It’s always a mistake to sit down. Thankfully, I remembered to check the condition of the toilet and the bedroom. Despite my half-hearted interest I have standards, lazy standards. I clean when I need to so I don’t usually like unexpected callers. Thankfully, straightening out the duvet and hanging up a few clothes was all I needed to do. I opened a bottle of red, poured two glasses then passed out on the sofa. “Remember me?” If he says that one more time…
“I’ve opened a bottle if that’s ok”. “Yeah, cool, cool”. The steel door closes with a reassuring clunk. I sit to one side of the sofa while he takes off his shoes and jacket letting them spill onto the floor. I unexpectedly enjoy watching him in his strip routine. He flashes me a smile and starts on about the club: who was there, who wasn’t there, last time he was there, then next event coming up… I’d forgotten how he spoke to me earlier, a torrent of information and detail without breath. Now I am remembering how he kissed me. I can feel my cock burrowing itself inside me. “It’s ok”, I say softly to myself, “let’s see how it goes”. Once disrobed of his outerwear, Sean approaches the sofa and straddles me. Sitting on my lap he takes my face in his hands and kisses me, softer than I was expecting. I can taste the bitterness of alcohol or drugs on his tongue. I relax, reciprocate, feeling the warmth of his tongue push into my mouth tasting and feeling. So much for the nightcap. We barely speak, which is a relief, but kiss for a while on the sofa before Sean bites my lip. I pull back surprised and find him giggling at me bouncing up and down on my lap. Wiping my mouth, I find a spot of blood on my finger. I’m not up for another all-night ‘chem’ session, like that weird one I ended up in last year, muscle Mary and all. However, I feel I need something to smooth over the edges of Sean’s teeth and personality. I suggest we change scene and I take him to the bedroom illuminated by a yellow glow from the street lamps outside. “I’ll just be a minute” I tell him, “make yourself comfortable”. In the bathroom I undress and take a piss. Looking in the mirror I stare at myself. Tired eyes, wine stained lips, unkempt hair and sagging flesh. In about 10 minutes I won’t care about how I look, where I am or who I’m with. But that’s not exactly true, I will care about who I’m with, it’s just that he’ll be a far more interesting than the version I met in the living room earlier.
While the toilet flushes I remember I still have some Libidinum in my jacket pocket as well as the bedside cabinet. In the gloom of the living room I pass Sean’s clothes on the floor and notice that different varieties of Libidinum have fallen out of his own pockets. Looking at them I wonder why he hasn’t taken any himself this evening. Acquiesce would mellow him out. Something odd about them catches my eye. I pick one up off the floor. It is the correct size and the paper feels right. Even the crimping around the edge looks normal. Suddenly it hits me, the graphics for this sachet of Augment are in black, not red. I go to my jacket and rifle through the pockets till I find my own. The sachet of Augment has red text, Acquiesce, purple. I’ve never seen that. Yes, I have… “What’s keeping you?” “Coming, just getting something”. “Oh yeah?” I drop Sean’s sachet on the floor where I found it as the memory of the ‘chem’ party last year surfaces again in my mind. The sachet I pulled out the shopping bag had black writing on it too. No colour. That’s why I couldn’t tell what it was. Why didn’t I notice that? Too drunk. I never saw my teeth, what did they give me? Fumbling in the half-light I quickly I open my sachet of Augment and pour its crystalline contents onto my tongue in a hurry to get back to Sean. My stuff is legit, I bought it myself from the flagship store in town. I remember finding it ironic that the PsychoPharm boutique had replaced the Nespresso boutique. The interior was almost identical with colourful boxes on every wall. Just no bar to sample their products at. Standing in the hallway I start to feel my heart pump, my head getting lighter and my skin start to tingle. I look down at the open sachet in my hand: black and white. A red and white sachet lies on Sean’s jacket. I shake
my head. Too late now. I pick up my sachet of Augment and stuff it back into my jacket pocket. He’ll never know, I think as I head back to the bedroom. Sean slouches naked on the bed, propped up against the pillows, wine in one hand, wanking with the other. “What kept you?” he asks. I smile, bearing my teeth. “Ah”. Sean rolls his eyes. “Don’t be getting too many ideas”, he slurs suggestively. He is hairier and larger than I expected. I always mistakenly assume: bald head, bald chest; short guy, short cock. His dark hair starts as elongated darts below each of his ears, connects tidily under his lips, dips down his chin and along his neck, across his narrow chest encircling his small nipples, over his soft pillowed stomach and finishes loosely around his cock and balls. He only shaves his head it seems and my cock hardens as I realise this. Sean notices, his eyes narrow as they survey me, he continues to wank, eyes fixed on my crotch. I let him watch me. Only this amount of alcohol and the drugs beginning to flow though my system gives me the confidence to just stand there, naked. Hoping onto the bed I kneel between Sean’s legs, remove his hand from his cock and sniff the musky odour coming from his fingers before sucking on the tips. They taste sour. If I was a wine connoisseur I describe the taste as “sherbet with hints of tobacco”. I slip down the bed and bury my face in his groin licking his balls before sucking on the end of his cock. He groans at first then occupies himself with his wine, slurping greedily. I feel his belly move up and down as he gasps for air through his swallowing. After a generous amount of time I come up for air. Sean puts his glass down and spins himself round, head under my balls and his cock now level with my face. He wraps one arm around my arse and uses the other hand to move my cock towards his open mouth and gingerly licks the end of it before taking it inch by inch into his mouth. I expect
him to stop a certain way down, but he keeps going, taking all of me into this throat; quite the professional. I feel his neck muscles clench and relax as his tongue attempts to lick and taste the base of my cock. I attempt to do the same but gag and struggle to relax; the drugs are not helping me with my throat muscles. Slowly, however, I edge him further and further into my throat and before long we are both lost in each other’s groins, nostrils inhaling fresh sweat and musk, throats in a rhythm of sucking and swallowing saliva and pre-cum. I no longer need to breath, we are connected in symmetry and circulation, a dual tracheal umbilical cord couples us, an oval of simultaneous giving and taking, the snake that swallows its own tail. The location of pleasure is blurred, bodies lost to a confusion of mirrored pleasure. Only weightlessness could improve the enjoyment. Sean taps the scar on the side of my arm as he finishes his wine. I see his eyes inquisitive over the glass. “Had it removed”, I say inspecting my upper arm. “It didn’t agree with me. You’ve none either”, I say stroking his pale soft arm. “I never bothered with it. No need really”. I’m lost in thought thinking about what he means by this and of the party last year when I hear him whisper, like a voice in my head, “Fuck me”. The voice is direct, without emotion. I roll over to the bedside cabinet and rake through the top drawer. Returning to Sean I hand him a bottle of lube while I begin to tear open a condom wrapper. “Nah, don’t bother. Not tonight…” Leaving the sentence hanging in mid-air he waits for me to respond. I’ve heard lines like this before and every time the guy can’t even bring himself to mention the word: condom. His statement is clear to me, though. It requires no clarification. I raise my eyes to his. His green eyes, seductive and inviting, burn brightly in the yellow street lit glow of the room. I wonder
how long to continue my silence before I put him out of his misery. I’m sure I can hear his sphincter open and close with anticipation. I’m wondering if it is the act of barebacking that gets some guys off or the fear of the risk of infection that morbidly excites them. An extreme sport perhaps. “You can be naughty, can’t you” I say as I crawl over to him, kissing my way up his body to his mouth. I’m surprised by the confidence in my voice. I can smell myself on his breath and think of what I must taste like in his mouth, two people intermingled in fluid. Sean shrugs, lost in his drunkenness. Kneeling back on my heels I grab his legs and pull him further down the bed. Sean squeals but doesn’t resist. “Roll over”, I command. We untangle our legs and Sean turns over and buries his face in the pillows. “On your knees”. Sean complies and starts to moan in anticipation of what is coming. What he thinks is coming. I bury my face in his arse, using my wet beard and tongue to moisten and relax his hole. I push my cock against the opening of his hole and slide it half way in. Sean tightens his sphincter muscles but ignoring this I push fully inside him. I hear him gasp, his words muffled by the pillow. He relaxes and releases me. I start to move in and out and Sean squirms to move into a better position. I grab his pelvis, pull him against me and pick up rhythm as I do so. My ears fill with pressure and I feel the pulse of my heart keeping time with my fucking. Sean’s knees have left the bed and his head, like a doll’s, bobs against the mattress while his arms silently push the pillows aside. I start to pound him harder till his hips are painfully pounding against my groin, I am surprised by my energy. My hands grip his hips tighter, straining as I continue to pound. Pleasure starts to escape me as I feel my fingernails dig deeper into his skin. I can’t let go. Sean winces but I keep hold of him in this position, I am not in
control of my actions. I feel my mouth strain into a scream as breath leaves my body. Breathless, I am choking, I gasp for air but my body continues to pound. Sean, in front of me, is grabbing at the headboard but I hear nothing. Any pleasure I had is gone and I am consumed with the sight of Sean’s arching body as I continue to hold on to him and fuck him. Sound rushes back into my ears as I cum and I feel my cock pulse, emptying, leaving my trace. My hands release Sean’s hips and I feel his sphincter loosen around my softening cock. He flops on the bed. “No, no, no” he murmurs, but from pleasure, or not, I’m not sure. “There’s paper by the bed there” I suggest as I start to pull out of him, politeness taking over. I look down and notice blood on my dick and spots on the mattress. Sean stands, grabs some tissue and wipes at himself while I continue to kneel on the bed, frozen. He turns and hands me the bloodied paper expecting I’ll know what to do with it. For a few moments we both stay there in silence. I can see the marks I have left with my fingernails. I go to touch Sean’s hip concerned I’ve hurt him, not understanding what actually happened. “I need to shower”, Sean says abruptly, there is now a coldness in his eyes. The green not so intense. He is tired but wants to be clean of me before he returns to his own world, and Andre. Traces of the evening, and myself, washed from him. I nod towards the bathroom. While he showers I get dressed, tidy the bedroom and put his clothes in a pile on the bed. After his shower, Sean dresses in silence. I feel uncomfortable watching his reverse strip tease. Dressing is more shameful than undressing I find. “I said I wasn’t interested. Why didn’t you stop? “What?” I’m still processing what happened between us. “I thought you meant condoms. I’m sorry”, I offer, confused and trying to think through the drugs and alcohol. “Only Andre gets to fuck me, I thought I was clear about that.
“I’m not sure what happened. I thought that’s what you wanted. You asked me to…” “No, I fucking didn’t”. I see him touch his hip. “I’m not sure what I’ll say to him”. “Sorry…” I’m thinking about his bootleg Libidinum that I took and I want to ask where he got it from, why he has it. But I can’t. He’ll know I stole some of his stash. “You going to be ok? Want me to call you a taxi? Sean says nothing as he walks out the door. At the top of the stairs he turns and points at me, his finger a child’s imaginary gun. “I’ll remember this!” I curl up on the sofa and see the sun start to peek through the curtains of the living room. I’ll change the bed after I’ve slept. I think over the events of the evening as I start to drift off. Sean’s sachet of drugs, what it did to me and what I did to him floats through my mind but I realise I feel nothing. The mental image of Sean’s face begins to fade from my memory; a mandala dispersed by the morning breeze.