Part Five
I woke up, squinting against the orange streaming blaze that had just begun to light the room aglow. There was a moment of panic feeling the absence of Stone's skin anywhere on mine ----was it over already? had he left in shame?---- but it diffused just as quickly when I spotted him leaning against the wall, staring at me. "Enjoying the show?" I asked, my voice lower than usual with morning grog.
"I know this is gonna sound so weird, but I love watching people sleep," he said, shrugging.
I let out a snort. "That actually is the weirdest thing you've said in the last few days. And you've said some unexpected shit."
"Whatever. Just being honest. I feel like you get to really see people. Their guard's down. Something true shines through. I kind of feel like you'd get it, if anyone would. I think it's probably how you see the world all the time. I have to work under a narrower window."
"Okay, okay. So what do you see?" I asked wryly, still smirking at Stone's continuously surprising, sensitive strangeness in moments like these, when he let himself express it.
"There's a peace, with you. I mean, obviously you're asleep so maybe that sounds stupid. But it's more than that. You're comfortable in your skin in a way I don't think you are when you're awake."
I recoiled a little. "Well, yeah. That's probably because I'm literally never comfortable in my skin."
Stone let out a sad sigh. "I know. I know. It really bums me out, Luz. Not to say, like, that's wrong. I know your gender stuff is complicated. But I guess I wish you'd be able to like your body for what it is, even if you never feel at home in it." I could feel his gaze upon me, flitting from my eyes to search down my bare torso and back, lingering. Suddenly, a shimmer of shame surfaced. I imagined him examining me ---- the enduring boyishness of my smooth, hairless body, its waifish bony smallness, all glowing iridescent before him.
I cringed. "What's there to like?" I said with a bitter chirpy laugh, meaning it rhetorically.
"Knock it off. Really. You want to see what I see? Right now? I see sunlight streaming through, bouncing off those jutting cheekbones on your face. I see a lean body, clean, clear. Skin that's somehow even paler than mine, but feels like velvet. I see a jawline that could cut glass. And I see that gorgeous head of hair you've got, looking as good now as ever." He reached out to run his fingers through it, nuzzling me softly. "I see a really beautiful body."
"Stone, c'mon," I fired back, feeling an anger rise up in me. "What are you talking about? You're literally the most perfect specimen of a man I could imagine. You're rock solid, carved from fucking stone. No pun intended. I'm nothing like you."
"What are
you
talking about, Luz? Why would you want to look like me? You're not me. You're not even a guy like me. You're you. You're...soft, like light. And that's a really, really good thing." He paused a beat, looking away, then looked back with something new in his eyes. "I really, really want to know what it's like, Luz. Your softness. And I want you to know what my hardness is like, too."
/
Delight leapt out from me, I could practically see it dancing around the room. Breathlessly, Stone ran through the thoughts blustering around his head. "It just makes too much sense" / "What are the odds?" / "I want you so badly." / "This is a once in a lifetime moment for me, for us." / "It can't continue. Everything will have to change." / "It feels worth it." / "Do you agree? Does it feel worth it?"
It did.
Stone asked me what I wanted, and I knew exactly what he meant. For a moment, I lost myself in daydream: Looking down at his quaking, coiled heft, the spongy tip of his iron cock awaiting my tight hole. I imagined sliding smoothly down his shaft, the way he'd moan with ecstasy inside my velvet opening enclosed around him. I saw myself bouncing up and down, his hand nestled in my armpit, toying with my nipple as I rode him, his hardness rising into my plummets to drive deeper and deeper into me. I thought of what it would feel like to be so fully filled with him, and then filled even further by the sudden spray of his spunk up into me before leaking out.
But then I remembered my clumsy attempts at fingering my own rosebud, how much it mostly just hurt, and that was just my thin middle finger, not Stone's meaty girth. This was our only chance at togetherness, I knew. I didn't want it to hurt, nor did I want him to remember hurting me. Honestly, I sensed his relief. Looking through his eyes, I wondered if entry had felt like a step over that line which may have moved, but still existed, and still demanded he not cross it.
You could say, then, that our miraculous alignment simply continued. I wanted to be engulfed in the hard flesh of his body, to feel and feel and feel his smooth, unyielding stone manliness. He wanted to touch the flower-petaled satin of my skin, to move his fingers and his mouth and his throbbing hardness over my gleaming bright softness. And, obviously, we both wanted to come, but thankfully there are many ways to achieve that delicious friction.