Familiarity washes over me as soon as I witness LED color changing lights and irritating pop music blasting through sonic speakers. Swarms of teenagers are socializing in huge circles on the front lawn and inside the unrecognizable home. My eyes widen when Blake parks his midnight Chevrolet on the street curb behind many other vehicles. I try to figure out the meaning behind all this. Why would Blake take me to another raunchy house party? Haven’t I had enough of those?
I can’t stop gawking at everything around me. Once Blake shuts the car off and looks around to check his surroundings, we make eye contact and that’s when he laughs at my rather bothered expression. So much for long car rides on the highway while listening to soft alternative music and talking more about our goals and dreams.
We’re just at a house party.
“Perk up Mitchell. A little partying ain’t gone kill you,” he smiles, trying to get me to see the bright side of things. Maybe so, but I’d rather spend more sensual time with Blake. Too bad. Guess I’ll have to have a terrible repeat of everything. I don’t do that well in party environments.
We inch closer and closer to the entrance of the house, and upon arriving at the front door, I actually notice that there are not a lot of people here. Besides the large clique of kids loitering around on the front lawn, there is probably 30-40 people max. I can tell because I can actually see gaps through the crowds that are on the inside along with the air not feeling stuffy and suffocating. There is some space here. My temporary attitude fades like a mist in the night.
Blake greets a jock in a purple and white letter jacket and the guy lets us through. The inside of the house is eerily dim and gives the place a hauntingly vintage look. Walls seem to be a daring burgundy embroidered with gold, and pools of smoke cloud the air from the cancer sticks poking from people’s mouth. Loud pop music has people’s confidence raving on the dance floor in the living room, and they are moving with pure joy in their eyes. The wonderment in my eyes makes Blake crack an amusing smile, which in return has me smiling.
“So tell me,” I start, pulling Blake aside in a crooked space by the wide staircase. “why a house party? And why specifically this one?”
“When you stress as hard as I do, it feels good to just let go and party the night away. It kind of works as an escape goat for me.”
I nod, watching a guy and a girl run up the stairs in a frantic hurry to do God knows what. Blake looks over his shoulder and juts his chin in the direction towards the door.
“I know Bryan. He plays football at Jester High, our rival school.”
“Would’ve never known.”
“I sell to him a lot. He’s real cool. I passed by his house on the way over to the hideout house earlier and noticed ol’ boy was having a small get together. Figured we’d come here to get lost together.”
Get lost together. Party the night away.
His words sound perfectly otherworldly, as if, “getting lost together” meant running through lush green forests at night or exploring the galaxies and beyond with one another. Even though he’s really talking about getting lost in the music along with substance abuse, I still find it otherworldly. It sounds exciting. Maybe it’s because it’s coming from Blake?
He softly grips my sides and leans forward to whisper in my ear. Chills freeze over me like ice and it takes all of my might not to rip his clothes off and make love to him in the middle of the corridor.
“I don’t know about you, but I really want to say fuck it tonight,” his voice is deep and delicious.
I agree with him. I want to say fuck it tonight too.
And get lost with Blake along the way.
I have found my piece of salvation. He is in the form of a God; an exquisite, higher form of a being capable of lifting me off my feet without even touching me. He is graceful but suggestive, his words washing over like gold and his eyes hardening into a dusky sky. We dance in close proximity, our bodies free from stress and minds filled with nothing. A hunger takes over. Unexpectedly, I am pulled into Blake’s realm and it is difficult to leave. His universe is dark and rich; mysteries painting every corner. His smile’s so alluring that I cannot help but touch him. He starts dancing harder.
I am far from being a decent dancer, but in this trance, with this music, with lustful sweat blinding me from everyone else, I have instinctively learned how to formulate rhythm.
I’m keeping up with Blake’s pace. The music is growing more deafening by the second. I’m lost in the darkness of his eyes and drinking in the sexual energy radiating from him. I pull him closer and bite my lips, insanity stretching me out like taffy.
Damn, I want you. I want you so bad.
I don’t remember how long we got lost together. I had traveled through multiple universes. Now all I’m seeing is a vision of red with a ruby rose twirling around the tips of Blake’s fingers.
Two boys in painful lust is what brought us here. Through giggles and immature pheromones pushing us to the limit, we broke into an empty bedroom and occupied it like we owned it. This was it. This was the time to unleash all those crazy emotions and let each other have it once and for all.
It started with fast-paced, sloppy kissing. I held on to Blake’s face for dear life, afraid that if I let go that I would lose him forever. He tasted so sweet. I couldn’t - and wouldn’t - let go of him.
I took a quick break to breathe, and that’s when I was slammed into the solid wall. It knocked the breath out of me, but it was a sexy move. Blake was so desperate for me, I could feel him losing it. We connected mouths once more, our hands frantically molesting one another.
As his tongue got into dominance fight with mine, I pulled his jacket from his body and tossed it into oblivion. His muscles felt so fucking good. I moaned like a little bitch, gaping and holding on to Blake’s shoulders as his lips explored the perimeter of my neck.
He kissed and bit me, over and over and over again. I wasn’t aware that Blake was the type to give hickeys, so I was mildly taken aback by him biting and sucking the shit out of me, then licking his work to soothe the pain.
“Blake,” I sighed, eyes rolling to the back of my head. “keep doing that.”
A gruffled noise emanated from his mouth, and I threw my head back when I felt his eager hands undoing my belt buckle. My member was bouncing like it was on cocaine, anticipating and craving for Blake to give it pleasure.
Once the belt was off, we locked eyes. Sweat bedded both of our foreheads, our bodies high of off the party with our aching desires for one another growing at an alarming rate. I had to have him, or else I would seriously die.
“Blake,” I moaned softly, feeling his grip on me tighten. “please...”
He gritted his teeth, hand already possessing an important part of me. He whispered dirty shit on my lips, talking in a fast, raspy voice. He told me to, “take it like a good boy,” and that I would, “make the whole neighborhood know his name.” Blake was seriously killing me. Pre-cum started dripping down my pants and onto his hand, and a manifesting feeling that was warm and tingly started growing in the pit of my stomach. I bucked my hips harder, thrusting my dick faster and faster in the grip of his hand like I was a lunatic. I could barely breathe. I was seeing stars once Blake reattached his lips to mine, muffling my whines and cries.
“Fuck!” I screamed, heart raging with passion. Blake switched things up quick, and right on time in my honest opinion.
He picked me up and carried me to a dresser, plopping me on top like I was a child that needed proper addressing. Once he had me in place though, he began undressing me.
Deep-rooted insecurities broadcasted my true self quickly. I covered myself when Blake pulled my shirt off. This confused him, and I did some abrupt explaining to try and get him to understand my body issues.
“I-I’m so scrawny,” I explained, running short of breath.
Blake’s stimulating expression morphed more romantic, looking at me like he truly cared for me and wanted to make sure I was alright.
“You’re beautiful,” he told me, eyes never leaving mine. “and I mean that.”
It might have been the overwhelming realization from everything, but I started crying. Not ugly sobbing or dry heaving, but silent, pure tears. Blake thought I was beautiful. Sharing such a sensitive moment with him was all I could ever ask for.
He began kissing me again, but not hard and charged up like a rapid dog. He started taking his time. He lingered his lips, never broke eye contact, and explored me genuinely. My hands eventually did their job and removed Blake’s shirt as well, and the form I saw made me stop and admire him.
He wants to talk about me being beautiful when he makes the word beautiful look like an understatement. His body was gorgeous. Deep brown skin that looked glazed with his sweat. A thin waistline with clean-cut abs trickling down until you couldn’t see them anymore. His chest was broad and strong with appealing collarbones so sharp and steep I could sip water from them. Blake chuckled at how appalled I was. Our body differences was almost laughable.
“You got all night to enjoy this,” he said, pecking my cheek.
One thing led to another as passion and eroticism leaves me admiring Blake with a red rose he found from a pot of flowers modeling on a nightstand. He is marked everywhere by my love bites and is glowing in the dimness of the room. I lie on the softness of whoever’s bed, completely naked and practically drooling over Blake’s figure.
“Why are you playing with that rose?” I chuckle, dick still aching for his touch.
He sniffs the flower, then looks at me. I burn immensely under his gaze, having to cross my legs to create friction on my private. If Blake takes any longer to bring his sexy ass over and fuck me then I might have to do it myself.
“It reminds me of you,” he answers, drawing closer and closer to the bed. “fragile, pretty, sensitive to touch.”
I smile, heart beating like a madman.
“I remember you saying red was your favorite color, right? You said it was a deep color. Very intense and passionate.”
The fact that Blake remembered that makes me want him more than ever now. I motion for him to join me, and he follows.
He looms over me now, our bare bodies connecting like puzzle pieces. I graze my lips against the precious rose resembling me and Blake caresses it down my body, trailing from my lips to my chest and down to my groin. It jumps up, hitting Blake in the tummy. I groan, arching my back to put more friction on the blood pumping organ.
“Blake,” I cry, and without any further words or prompting, he presses his body deep into mine and begins kissing me like it’s our last kiss ever. We don’t pull back, and I never let go. I wrap my legs around his waist and keep humping our manhoods together, trying to reach that explosive orgasm full of warmth and oxytocin. It all happens very slow. I lose my mind when I feel him eventually slide in me, slamming into my prostate at all the right angles and causing me to cry like a weak little bitch. I lose all my brain cells when I keep hearing a distracting buzzing going off somewhere in the distance of the room. It’s probably just a phone call, who cares? I overpower it, loud noises of love and sex filling the room at maximum volume.
Nothing can keep me from emboldening this prolonged high. It’s me and the love of my life.
That’s all it’ll ever be.