Evening All,
Much like last week, I didn't expect to have this out so soon. Chapter 5 is already well underway. I apologize if this story is a bit slower-going than some imagined it might be, but I'm having a ball writing it and maybe excessive detail is just my style lol but I'm also big on payoff. Anyway I really hope you enjoy, my email is DCfield90@protonmail.com if anyone has comments, suggestions or criticism of any kind. Thanks!
Decent Progress, Chapter 4
Christian threw himself back into bed but his mind was buzzing too much for sleep. Desire and misgiving were at war like a devil and angel on either shoulder. Once again Brody's charisma had drawn him in, and he was taking it on faith that the gentleness he exuded in these quiet moments together wouldn't evaporate at the first convenient opportunity of making a fool of him.
"If it could just be us on this trip..."
In theory that was the worst option though, right? He couldn't stand Brody. He was arrogant and mean and pretentious. Yet whenever Christian reminded himself of these facts, a pair of heavy-lidded eyes brimming with an indefinable something, seemed to blow the facts away like an autumn wind. Those eyes and a pink smile, one corner of the mouth upturned slightly. A smooth neck, a clavicle just prominent enough to be elegant, and those pecs... it suddenly occurred to Christian that a beach trip meant he would get to see, over and over again, Brody shirtless in the flesh. Diving for his phone, he opened Brody's Instagram page. Gliding through without considering what he was doing he scanned for more shirtless pics. Unfortunately there was nothing but those candid photos at the wrestling match. How was that possible?
"Seriously, a showoff like him?"
Making do with those, which he hadn't properly examined the first time, he flipped onto his back and held the phone up to his face. He slid his finger across the screen, once again seeing Brody strip in flashes of stop-motion. Fastening upon the best one in the series, his member engorged rapidly. Brody had noticed the camera while his singlet had slithered almost below his waist. Still panting hard from the exertion of his match, it made his smile almost obscene. Sweat waterfalled down his pecs and pale pink nipples, and formed rivulets in his abs and V-line.
"Mmmm," Christian moaned as he touched himself. Sliding his finger along the underside of his cock, he tried to pinch the tip a bit with each stroke. He knew from experience this was the most sensitive bit. Zooming into the photo, he tried to imagine what Brody's body would feel like, imagined pressing himself against it, feeling those sleek arms and legs engulf him. The image seemed to expand and dilate before him, and Christian lost all sense of his surroundings. Brody was rolling him onto his back and nibbling at his neck, while something alive, wet and twitching was worrying at his hole. Christian imagined thrusting hard into Brody's stomach, his cock slicking across that washboard for friction. The pressure at his rear reached a breaking point and the dam burst. Brody was inside of him, pumping and straining to penetrate as deep as possible. He gathered Christian in his arms and rose to his knees, blasting away with gritted teeth.
"Uhh...UHHH...UNNGH!" Christian moaned with abandon now, not even thinking about his parents hearing. The heat in his cock pulsed into his hand. He kept milking himself, eyes transfixed on Brody's voluptuous smile. All his offerings spent, his muscles untensed and he wallowed in his sweat and euphoria.
"Fuck...fuck." Was all he could think, his brain as spent and wrung dry as his member. Rolling onto his side, he tried to go to sleep and forget about what he just fantasized.
At school the old apprehensions boiled in his stomach, but they were soon calmed. No sooner had Christian stepped into the building than he felt two hands clap onto his shoulders.
"Long time no see," a familiar tenor sounded behind him. Christian tried to turnaround, but the hands were replaced by arms wrapped tightly around his chest. He chuckled.
"You miss me that quick?"
Brody grunted as he thrust with his hips and bounced Christian up onto his pelvis, arching his back to keep him there. His forehead was pressed into Christian's neck.
"Nope."
"Sooooo, this is just you saying good morning?"
He whirled Christian around slightly before setting him back on his feet.
"Just giving some reassurance about what I said. You need it."
It was like he'd read his mind. Still, the jerk didn't need to spell it out so much. Shuffling his feet slightly he answered,
"Thanks."
Brody stood smiling expectantly as if waiting for something else. Christian felt his face getting warm and he involuntarily clasped his hands below his waist. This just made Brody's grin widen.
"Listen, we need to talk logistics. Obviously I'm driving you on the trip,"
(Christian wondered when that was decided)
"I was planning our departure right after school on Wednesday and I'll pick you up at 4, at your house. What's your Snap?"
"Uhh, I don't have one."
Brody raised an eyebrow, just visible through his hair's shiny layers.
"Okay your number then? We'll need to coordinate, and while at the beach I can't lose track of you."
Christian gave it to him.
"I can survive on my own y'know, I'm not a third grader."
"You can't drive, so you may as well be one."
"I get my license soon," Christian resentfully mumbled. Looking up from his phone, Brody blinked solemnly.
"I invited you, I'm your transportation, that makes me responsible. Your parents and mine would hold me to that, anyway."
Christian considered. "Yeah, my mom would kill you if something happened."
"Exactly. You're lucky I don't fit a leash on you. But maybe... I should?"
He raised his eyebrow even further to a ridiculous angle.
"Fuck off," Christian laughed.
"Never." He chucked Christian on the shoulder. "Make sure you pack a swimsuit."
As it happened, forgetting anything was impossible because Brody texted an exhaustive list of things to pack, requisite and optional. These were accompanied by the address of the condo, the numbers and names of all the other beachgoers, a list of restaurants in the area, on and on it went. And when the blazingly white truck screeched to a halt in front of his house at precisely 4:00 PM on Wednesday, he learned Brody had bought extras anyway. Christian was exasperated and a little amused by Brody's thoroughness, but he took it as a good sign; Brody was excited too. His own anticipation shot up exponentially over the next few days. He'd never done anything like this; just gone off with other teens with no adult supervision, and he realized how natural it felt. The closest he achieved was goofing around hotels at gymnastics meets after the chaperones turned in. School couldn't seem to pass quickly enough, and for once gym was a distraction rather than the day's main event. What he craved was huddling up in bed at night and receiving another update from Brody. Tuesday evening he was finishing up his horrible essay (if only Brody would write it) when his phone pinged. Wheeling over from his desk, his heart gave a little leap to see it was indeed Brody.
"Just a reminder, 4:00 PM tomorrow. Also ur staying in my room, hope that's alright?"
Christian's breath quickened. He hadn't broached the topic of the room situation figuring Brody would tell him eventually, and being a last-minute invite, he didn't want to impose. But this was better than he dared hope (fear?) for.
"Yeah, that sounds great!"
He regretted the punctuation as soon as he sent the message. He would think... what? That Christian liked the idea of staying in a room with Brody, the person who implored him to come in the first place? There was no hidden meaning to be gleaned from that, it wasn't suggestive in the slightest.
"I thought so as well. See you tomorrow."
Okay, was there something suggestive in THAT?
"Uuugh!" He groaned aloud. No, he was seeing shadows and Jesus in a piece of toast. He needed to accustom himself to Brody's flamboyant style. It meant nothing in the same way the wrestling guys grabbing each other's junk meant nothing of substance, it was just playing around. Maybe he was too serious and too lonely, so he read into every little interaction. But on the other hand Brody was so observant of Christian, and so calculated in how he phrased things, that he couldn't just disregard anything he said.
"Whatever. In any case this trip will be good for me."
When he heard the screech of the truck tires, Christian was hurriedly assembling his things. Two bags containing swimsuits, t-shirts, jeans, socks and virtually every pair of underwear he owned. Sunscreen, toiletries, hats, towels, wallet (his father had tossed a generous bit of cash his way)... what else? He frantically consulted Brody's list as he heard the doorbell followed by pleasant-sounding voices wafting up the staircase. He grabbed his bags and swiftly went downstairs. Brody was standing in the doorway with a hand casually on his hip, chatting to his father. He wore blue shorts which showed the hard diamond of his quads, and his high, slim calf muscles shined in the afternoon sun. He broke off when he saw Christian approaching.
"Hi guy. Ready to take off?"
His father took the cue, but politely offered,
"You guys want anything to eat before you go?"
"No thanks Mr. Carter, I packed plenty of food and drink. Anything else we can stop for."
Christian was grateful it was his Dad seeing them off. His Mom would have given Brody an embarrassing lecture on driving safe, avoiding highways, not swimming after dark, not drinking, not doing drugs, not hanging out with strangers, avoiding balconies, and God knows what else.
"Ok. Stay safe alright? Y'all know what's stupid and what isn't, so stick to your better judgement."
"No worries Mr. Carter. Christian's in good hands, I promise."
Of course It wasn't his parents who'd embarrass him. He glared at Brody. But his father smiled. Not his usual carefree smile, this one was affectionate, almost sad. It may have been Christian's imagination, but he thought he saw a slight mistiness in his eyes when he said,
"I think he is. Have fun now."
"Bye dad." Christian gave his father a brief one-armed hug then followed Brody's beckoning.
"Throw it all in the bed, the cab's packed full of shit."
Christian slung his belongings into the space, hearing a clang when he did so. Peeking on his tiptoes (Brody's truck was obscenely tall), he saw beach umbrellas, bags of footballs and frisbies, nearly everything you could wish for in addition to Brody's own bags.
"C'mon, hop in! You're not riding with the luggage," Brody joked. He levered himself into the cab which smelled like fresh new leather. The black seats were immensely comfortable, and the console was trimmed with stainless steel.
"She's a beauty, huh?" Brody saw him admiring the interior.
"Yeah. Wish I had one."
"Why? You've got me as a chauffeur."
The reality of being in Brody's car, hearing the engine rumble to life and then his home fading behind them, all must have doubled Christian's excitement. He was going on an adventure! With BRODY, of all people, a genuine popular kid! Though, he remembered what Jameson said about Brody's popularity perhaps being more limited than it seemed. Whatever, he was cool to Christian. As he looked over and saw his glossy hair fluttering in the breeze, the profile of his sharp jaw, his slim muscular legs, and his hands operating the steering wheel with practiced ease, he seemed the coolest person in the whole world.
"We'll stick to backroads to get there, traffic will be utterly insane on 64," Brody said, inputting directions into his phone mounted on the dashboard. "It'll only delay us by 30 minutes or so. In the meantime, grab us both some sodas."
He motioned to the massive black cooler in the rear. Christian opened it, seeing it was full of an assortment of sodas packed in ice.
"Do you always do trips like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like, taking everything to the max."
Brody's shoulders shook with silent laughter as he twisted the cap with one hand, the other not leaving the wheel.
"Yeah. Not that I'm a meticulous planner, I just want to make the most of it, take the experience to its fullest potential. Why hold back?" It sounded rhetorical, but he looked at Christian like he expected an answer.
"Naw, I agree. I think I hold back too much."
"What in? You do well in school, certainly better than me. You're an accomplished athlete and probably destined for college level. What's left to unleash?"
Christian looked at his lap, then out the window. It was a good question.
"I'm not sure."
"Then we'll have to find it." That impenetrable look again. Christian wished he shared Brody's apparent powers of mind-reading.
"How's that?"
"I suppose I could psychoanalyze you. For instance, why do you do gymnastics instead of wrestling?"
Christian laughed at the loaded question, "I like gymnastics because even though it's hard, it's rewarding. Sometimes you wanna die when you can't get a skill and you fall over and over. You want to curl up and forget you ever saw a pommel horse. But then one day, you've got it. And you feel... perfect. Coach looks at you like no one else ever does. And when you're on highbar, dude, it's like nothing in the world can touch you. You're up there with the clouds, and you feel like something more than human y'know?"
Brody listened thoughtfully. "Oh let the spirits of the air, through heaven and earth weaving, descend through the golden atmosphere, and lead me on to new and varied being."
Christian looked at him curiously. "Shakespeare?"
"Goethe. Sorry, go on."
"No, that's it. Thanks for showing me up with Gertha or whoever." Christian grinned. "So why do you read literature? It isn't just to impress people, is it?"
Brody considered. "No, but it's admittedly fun to surprise people with an eloquent quote. No, I read it because it captures the way I feel, simple as. I don't think my emotional range is particularly wide, or that others are dead inside, but I'm more honest and accepting of myself than most, and I'm not afraid to defy convention. I've heard snickers and seen eyes rolling when I wax eloquent on Dickens or Flaubert, but I don't care. More people, or maybe more worthwhile people, will be drawn to a genuine passion than are repelled by it. The latter aren't even worthy of notice."
Christian had folded his legs under himself and leaned sideways into the seat while Brody spoke. His bare feet (he'd slipped off his flip flops) felt cool against the leather. Brody was right. Passion was attractive.
"Is that the same reason you love wrestling?"
"Yes, because it's pure. You put everything on the line when you step onto the mat, just your struggle against your enemy. You throw everything at them, and you only win if you fight like your life is at stake. Defeat in wrestling has the worst sting imaginable, but victory makes you feel godlike. It's ugly and beautiful all at once."
Just then Brody's phone piped up with directions, and he stopped to listen. The afternoon sun had lowered its gaze into the cab, and Brody pulled his visor down.
Their journey led them along scenic oak-lined byways, and interspersed with their conversation, Christian had taken in the views. The air didn't have a salty scent yet, so they were still a ways from the ocean. Small towns with quaint paint-chipped churches and old brick buildings slid by in their passage. At one stoplight a young blond family waved at them as they crossed the street, and they waved back. It was just that kind of place, Christian supposed, where goodwill came with no expectations. He thought it would be good to live somewhere like that.
"Not to lower the tone, but I need to piss." Christian giggled. "Me too."
"The view's nice, but I don't see anywhere that might have a decent toilet. Can you hold out a bit longer?"
"Oh yeah, I'm not busting."
They continued for a while longer until the sharp smell of brine teased their nostrils, and the tall trees of the inland gave way to the scrub and sand of the coast. They spotted a gas station at an intersection and pulled in.
"I need to fill up, you go on in and pee."
Christian wordlessly handed him a twenty.
"What's this?"
"Gas money. Please, just take it."
Brody rolled his eyes and snatched the bill.
"Alright, go on in already. I don't want any accidents in my truck."
Christian found the bathroom with its one-hinged door and ancient urinal cake. He washed his hands and hopped out like it was radiating germs, but not before checking his appearance in the spotted mirror. He brushed his short hair a bit more with his fingers and flattened the sides, then checked for pimples. Thankfully he didn't get too many, and his naturally ruddy skin softened the blow if they did appear. Brody never got any.
"Lucky douche."
But being jealous of Brody didn't hurt as much now. He wondered why, as he bounced cheerfully through the gas station door.
"Faggot-ass bitch."
The words chilled him even if he didn't immediately think they were spoken in connection to himself. Turning, he saw for the first time a group of older guys milling around the building's corner. One of them was glaring with fixed eyes and a slightly open mouth, jaw jutting forward. Christian simply turned and walked quickly back to the truck. It was not worth it.
"Yeah walk away faggot."
He heard the thug's cronies chortle, but kept going. Brody was just racking the gas nozzle.
"Alright, my turn."
"Let's go somewhere else," Christian said quietly, coming around to the driver's side. The view from the corner was blocked by the truck's hood.
"Why? Don't tell me the pisser's that filthy."
"Those guys over there, they're looking for a fight. They called me names, let's just go."
Brody's eyes narrowed and his jaw became rigid.
"What did they say?"
"It doesn't matter, can we not ruin the trip this early? Let's go and forget about it."
Brody grabbed his elbows and jerked him forward a bit. His eyes were livid in a frightening way, and Christian quailed a bit.
"You tell me what they said right now."
His words were quiet and deliberate, and his tone brooked no opposition. Christian's chin dropped.
"They called me a faggot."
Brody's mouth twisted and a grinding, rumbling sound issued from his throat. He released Christian and turned towards the gas station. Panicking, Christian threw his arms around Brody's chest to restrain him.
"No! Please Brody, don't go. Either they'll pick a fight or you will, you know they've probably got knives or a gun and I can't see you get hurt!"
"I'M not the one who'd get hurt!" Brody was straining against his embrace, but Christian bound him up tight, his face pressed sideways into nape of his neck.
"Then someone'll call the cops and they'll at least have to question us. That ALONE will fuck everything up," he said into Brody's hair. Christian felt him relax a bit.
"You're right. No sense messing this whole trip up over a few low-lives."
Christian loosened his grip, but didn't release him. "You sure?"
"Yes, Chris. Let go now, we've been delayed enough. I'm cool."
Tentatively, Christian did as he was told. Brody had a faraway look in his eyes as he gave Christian a soft touch on the chin with his fist.
"Go on back to your seat. Go on," he shooed. When they were in the cab, Brody unhooked his phone from the dash and raised it to his ear.
"Who're you calling?" Christian inquired, but Brody raised a hand to silence him.
"Yes, I'm at the Shell station on I-95 near the overpass, there's a sketchy group of people by the north end of the building. I think they're smoking crack."
Christian gave a sharp intake of breath and raised a hand to his mouth. Brody fired up the truck with one hand and began wheeling them out of the station, while flashing Christian a mischievous smile.
"Well I saw a glass pipe being passed around, and smoke billowing everywhere. Ordinarily I wouldn't care y 'see, but I was there with my young son, and he was inhaling the fumes. No we left, it seemed like a dangerous crowd. My name is Rory. No, I can't stay on the line, traffic is awful."
He tapped the phone and slotted it back into it's mount, sniffed primly, and looked at Christian with a purse-lipped little smile.
"I can't believe you did that! You can't lie on a 911 call!"
"Chill bro, it was the non-emergency line. Odds are they won't even send a patrol car, but if they do those guys are screwed. Like you said, at least one of them is illegally carrying a gun."
"And you were STILL ready to fight them?!"
"No, I was ready to completely squash them. At least squash one before I went down, that is."
Christian looked at him with an annoyed sort of awe. Brody wasn't super big, he wrestled in the 145 category, but my God he was fierce.
"I'm glad I was there to stop you. You could've been killed."
"Maybe you're the better angel of my nature."
Christian snorted. "More like your Guardian Angel. And conscience. And brain." He nudged Brody lightly with his foot.
"You're paying for that tonight." But he was smiling again.
It was only five minutes before the ocean first came into view, evening sunlight glinting off the waves like a thousand flashing mirrors. The clouds by mutual consent extended their shapes towards the horizon, an armada of diverse ships all facing the fading sun. Christian breathed the salty air with ecstasy.
"I can't wait."
His own candor surprised him.
"Neither can I. But hold up, we need to find this place."
They listened closely to the chirpy robotic voice as it guided them. Christian did his best to be a good co-pilot as they navigated unfamiliar territory. The beach-town in question was mid-sized and fairly quiet. Newer neighborhoods had lofty stucco homes, but wood cabin-style houses in the older communities. Due to hurricanes many still had storm shutters on the windows, and in the rougher areas, iron bars as well. Turning down an easily missed private street, they winded down a lane lined with tropical plants and dunes. When Christian heard the word "condo", he pictured a high-rise, but as they came to end of the drive he saw these were organized into quads like apartments. The buildings were older however, and raised on wood pillars so you took a staircase to reach them.
"There's Hunter and Bailey's cars," Brody noted. It wasn't a large group on this trip, simply the aforementioned couple, Thompson the son of the magnate who owned the property, Leslie from English, and of course Alex. All of them were well acquainted, making Christian a conspicuous outsider. As they pulled into a space before a gorgeous banana tree (the whole place was a veritable grove), Christian felt a slight pang of anxiety. Not a big one though. Alex was a comforting presence, and incredibly, so was Brody now.
"You need to be ready. He might not stay so nice in front of other people," He warned himself. The dark-haired boy was already upside down in back of the cab, upsetting the arrangements and hauling out supplies.
"C'mon kid, lets get our stuff out and find everyone!"
Christian hastened to comply. He lowered the truck bed and started unloading.
"Ours is 5632", Brody said, shading his eyes against the sun, "that one."
Sand gritted beneath their flips flops as they went up the worn wooden staircase. Brody produced a key and unlocked the metal door as if he lived there.
"Home for the next four solid days," he intoned happily into the empty condo. The interior was in keeping with the outside, wicker furniture and wood paneling abounded. A leather couch sat opposite two swivel chairs and a coffee table. Opposite these was the requisite plasma tv, and beyond all a sliding glass door with a perfect view of the water. Behind the living room was a small bar overlooking the tiny kitchen, and a little hallway leading to the bedrooms.
"We're in here, obviously," Brody noted, seeing bags piled on the beds of the room nearest them. Their own room was to the condo's rear, nearest the parking area. It was hardly big enough to fit two single beds and a single tiny dresser. The dark aqua walls made it feel even smaller, but several seashell-trimmed paintings of sea life gave it a cozy quality. Christian discovered Brody had brought two coolers, one for drinks the other for food.
"You brought STEAK?" Christian said incredulously, as he unpacked into the ancient refrigerator. Brody smiled but in a slightly embarrassed way, running his fingers through his hair.
"Yeah, there's a grill here. I thought it would be fun one night, to, you know..."
He made a flipping motion with his wrist. Christian suppressed a giggle and continued with his work.
"God, he can be so cute."
The thought just flashed into his mind with less summons or warning than heat lightning. He stole a glance over the counter as Brody was ransacking a closet for bedding. Please god don't let him be falling for this guy so rapidly.
They hurried out the door to go find their group. The rest weren't far, lounging on towels about fifty yards down the beach.
"Yo, Bro-Dee!" Thompson roared, pulling his compatriot into a rough hug.
"Christian, glad you could make it," said Alex, rising and embracing him much more gently.
Thompson turned to Christian and muttered in his ear. "Hey bro, I'm sorry about the other day. Thanks for coming. We cool?"
They certainly were. If not for his generosity Christian wouldn't be here, and as he plumped down next to Brody and began chatting, he realized he was already having the time of his life. He and Brody relayed the gas station thugs tale, to great appreciation by the group. The girls gasped, Alex laughed in disbelief and Thompson swore loudly he would have beaten the shit out the assholes, gun or no gun. Christian tried to guess the circumference of the big redhead's arms, not discounting the possibility of him doing so.
The evening got darker and cooler as they talked. Christian noted Leslie in her oversized cable-knit sweater sidling up to Brody, and he readily putting an arm around her. The sight caused a hollow pit to open up in his stomach but he willed himself to keep smiling and talking. He didn't know what he expected. He didn't even know what he wanted: Brody to only play attention to him exclusively? Brody to put an arm around him? To touch him, caress him...kiss him? He admitted a kind of yearning for it, but it accompanied a sense of wrongness. But why was it wrong? Because it was impossible, or dangerous, or for some other reason? As he watched Brody idly skimming Leslie's long hair through his fingers, he knew it must be impossible. Brody was straight as an arrow, and Christian wasn't sure what he himself was. He needed to content himself with having Brody as a friend. Hell, they weren't even at that point yet, they still hardly knew each other!
"Be grateful for what you've got."
When they couldn't see one another's faces, they all retreated back to the condos. It turned out Alex and Thompson were in the other room, with Leslie next door with Hunter & Bailey.
"Though the arrangement's only provisional," Brody whispered with a devilish grin. Christian tried to return the expression and failed.
"Perfect. I'll be run out so Brody can fuck Leslie."
Brody decided to cook the steaks before they spoiled, and stood on the balcony nursing the coals in a rickety old grill while the rest of them drank soda indoors.
"Careful man, my dad would kill me if you burn anything," Thompson said warily.
"Relax, I'm a master chef."
Just then the coals shifted and a flame licked upwards, causing Brody to jump in surprise.
"Get your hair wet, Gordon Ramsey, then it won't burn off!" Christian called to him. The others tittered.
"That's another one I owe you for. Keep it up." Brody pointed with the spatula.
The steaks turned out wonderfully, and they ate them with potato chips while watching Stranger Things. Leslie cuddled up even closer to Brody on the couch, laying her head on his chest as he reclined onto the armrest. Christian tried earnestly to ignore it but he seethed with jealousy, so soon had he laid claim on Brody's attention. It reached the level of outrage when he saw motion under the blanket she had draped over them.
"Is she jerking him off?"
Christian riveted his attention to the screen, refusing to look any more lest Brody should see him livid. He knew his face was like an open book, and wished for some guile and acting ability. The group zoned out as the episodes went on, until it became so late they had no other option but bed.
"Let's get out early tomorrow," Thompson said before claiming first shower. Alex went right to sleep, leaving Christian flipping mindlessly through his phone in the dark, supposing he'd bathe tomorrow. He put down the phone on the night table (more like a stool between the two beds) and snuggled into the covers. They were old and very soft blankets, nicer than his ones at home. He heard the shower come on again, thinking it must be Brody's turn under the water. Excitement piqued a bit: maybe Brody would emerge shirtless or in his underwear.
"FUCK, stop being such a simp!" He thought angrily.
How pathetic was he, to be crushing so hard on a guy who, not 30 minutes ago, was getting a handjob from that absurd little snip of a girl? Would this trip only be a slow torture, being so close to Brody and growing ever closer in friendship, only to feel separated that much further by desire? A desire which was yet inchoate, by the way, which only heightened his frustration. He couldn't even allow himself to envision what he wanted for the two of them, and that was the most pathetic thing of all. Christian tried to imagine Kelsey sliding out of her clothes again, mustering some regular lust to take his mind off Brody. But he was so tired that her likeness rippled before him like a mirage, waxing and waning with half-awareness of his real surroundings. She was in the room with him now, tousling her hair. Now the shower shut off, now she was naked and glowing, the hall light falling on her gold skin. Before sleep claimed him, Christian thought he felt the mattress sink a bit, as if someone was sitting on his bed. Maybe the blankets were just especially warm, but he swore he felt a hand on his chest. And when its presence departed and something else went running gently through his hair, he fell finally asleep.
End of Chapter 4
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