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Crown Vic to a Parallel World: From Whence I Came The second installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips
16
That's Disgusting
The movie ended. Andy and Bem went to get the living room sofa-bed set-up while I pulled out the family room version for the twins. I switched the movies, turned the volume low, and tucked them in. Mary came down as I finished and thanked me. "You're good with them, I didn't think you would be." She offered some mild praise that made me uncomfortable.
"Yeah...uhm...don't let anyone hear you say that."
"Why?"
"Just...uh...yeah," I rubbed my neck and searched for the right words to voice my objection, "I'm not...uh...at ease with kids. They make me nervous."
"Why?"
"Why?" I parroted and thought some more. "Cause I'm fucked up, Mary. Kids are so fragile. I'm afraid I'll fuck them up like I'm fucked up."
My sister shook her head at me, a smile on her face and a little sadness in her eyes. "You won't damage them. You're too good a man."
I wanted to argue with her, but I didn't. Instead, I let it drop and gave her a hug. Mary checked on the girls, kissed them both, and headed to her own room. I followed her as far as the main floor of the house, where I found Joe packing away his laptop. Bem was already settled into the sofa bed and Andy had gone up to his room. I felt Shawn was upstairs and looked forward to joining him. I stopped, on my way, to say goodnight to Joe.
"What's going on there?" Joe gestured to Bem who'd rolled away from the dining room light.
I explained without detail. "He offered to sleep down here tonight so Shawn and I could have some time alone."
"Oh." Joe nodded and went back to wrapping up his laptop power cord. His mind caught up to the implications of what I'd said, and his head jerked up with his face wearing a fresh scowl. "Oh, that's how it is, is it? Well, why not the three of you?" Joe demanded as his voice dripped with condescension and disapproval.
I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming...again. I pulled a chair out and sat to have what I hoped would be a very short discussion. "OK, Joe. What's the problem?"
Joe set his laptop case on the floor next to his chair and turned his sour face to me. "I don't know that I'm OK with you doing that in my home."
I leaned close to him, my face inches from his. "What the fuck is your problem with me and my husband? Why do you care? What possible difference does it make in your life?"
"It makes me uncomfortable."
"WHY?" I waved my arms wide in a wild gesture of frustration and leaned away from Joe. My voice rose to a medium shout as my anger built. "I didn't plan to do it in front of you. It doesn't hurt the room or the furniture. Open a window and wash the sheets and you'd never know we did anything. The door locks and you told me the room is soundproof. We're both well beyond the age of consent, we're married, and we've done it before."
"HERE?" Joe cried, his face a mask of revolted horror.
I rubbed my face with both hands. I was frustrated that Joe was being a bigger lunatic than usual. I'd meant that Shawn and I had sex previously, not that we'd done it in my brother's house. Since Joe had jumped to an accurate conclusion, I debated whether or not to tell him that we'd already blasphemed his bedroom. `Hell with it.' I decided.
"Yes, here. At the risk of you throwing us out, I admit that the three of us, Bem, Shawn, and me, had sex in your bed last night. So...fucking...what?"
"How could you?" Joe admonished me like I'd forgotten his birthday.
I felt myself smirk as I baited him. "What, like physically? Depends on which time. You ever heard the term `spit-roasted?'"
"That's disgusting." He said as his face scrunched up to match his words.
"And there it is." I propped my chin in my hand and my elbow on the table. My brother had just revealed the source of his objection. My anger left me. What remained was simple disappointment. "That's the real problem here, isn't it? You find the act repulsive. It's not that we're men, or that we're not completely exclusive, you're grossed out by butt sex."
"Actually, it's all those things." Joe admitted and lowered his eyes. I supposed he was ashamed of his less-than-enlightened views. His tone backed away from being accusatory. It settled down to become almost introspective.
I tried to reason with Joe, to make him see things as they were, and not as he wanted them to be. "Joe, I can't help that I'm attracted to men. I can't help loving my husband. As to the physical act...I can't help it that nature, or God, or whoever you like, stuck one of my pleasure centers between my back pockets."
All the color drained from Joe's face. He was freshly horrified. "You mean...you mean you let them...do that...to you?" He stammered. "But...but...you're bigger than them."
I shook my head in disbelief without lifting my chin from my palm. "Do you have any idea how ignorant you sound? The bigger guy is always the top' is as uninformed as all dogs are boys, and all cats are girls.' Jesus, Joe, don't you live in the world?"
I sat back and rubbed my face again. "I'm done with this discussion. If you want to know something and can form a question without that `judgy' tone in your voice, I'll tell you as much or as little as you like. In the meantime, I miss my husband's touch. I'm going upstairs now to get reacquainted with it. You're either going to close your mouth about it, or I'll pack up the circus and we'll leave. I hate to keep threatening to do that, but you and I keep hitting this same sticking point. I can't live the way you want me to, and I refused to let you judge me for living in a way that makes me happy. Now, you tell me, am I going upstairs, or out the front door? I'm getting to the point where I just don't give a goddamn."
I stood up and pushed my chair in against the table. Joe rubbed his neck and looked uncomfortable as all hell. He drew a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh. "Go upstairs." He said.
"Goodnight." I replied and left him to his thoughts.
I went up and found Shawn sitting on the bed. He'd been waiting for me. "I was starting to wonder if you got lost. I just felt a ton of frustration, so I assumed you stopped to talk to Joe." Shawn guessed accurately, then asked a worried, "where's Bem?"
"I'll tell you in a minute. First, I need to try something." I pulled Shawn to me with magic and set him on his feet. I shoved him into the hallway, shut the door, and screamed. The purpose of the scream was both to test the sound-proofness of the room and to vent some of the frustration Joe had built up inside me. I opened the door and dragged Shawn back into the room. "Did you hear anything?"
Shawn shook his head and looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "No, was I supposed to?"
I shut and locked the door and explained. "This room is soundproof, and Bem is sleeping on the sofa bed in the living room."
Shawn leapt at me as if released by a spring. He tore my clothes off like a spoiled child unwrapping a birthday present. I tried to strip him at the same time, and we kept getting tangled with each other. When we were naked, he paused to admire me for just a second before he pounced. He climbed my body and kissed my mouth urgently, desperately. Then he did my favorite thing, the thing that we discovered he could do when we were in the hotel in Oppidum before the first mission.
Shawn wrapped his powerful legs around my waist, and used them, and only them, to support himself against me. He held his body to mine with just the vice-like grip of his smooth, dancer's legs. It was erotic as hell; my body supporting us both, my favorite part of his body wrapped around me, and his hands and hot mouth, free to roam.
I paused us again for an observation. "I love how big you are." I said to my husband.
"What do you mean?" He asked and shoved some hair from his face. It had fallen across his forehead in our frantic undressing of each other.
"You're a big, solid guy. I don't usually compare you to other men, not very often anyway. When we were out today, I noticed you as compared to the guys and the crowd. You're a big guy. I guess I forget that...you know, cause you're smaller than me. I like that you're big and broad. I like that I don't have to be careful with you. I like that I don't have to worry. And...and I really like that even though you're big and strong and solid, that I can still support us both like this. It flatters me. Makes me feel good."
Shawn leaned in and kissed the end of my nose. He kissed the round bottom of my chin. He kissed my closed lips but withdrew when I opened my mouth to taste him. "I'm glad you like my body." Shawn said in his bedroom voice with his frozen eyes narrowed to sensuous, bedroom slits. "I like yours to. I love how big and solid you are. I love how safe I feel in your arms. I really love laying on that broad back when I top you. When I fuck you, I feel like...it makes me feel..."
"Like a sex beast?" I asked to finish Shawn's sentence.
He laughed and agreed. "Yes, like a sex beast. It gives me such a rush. And when we're together like this...you're like my personal mountain. Like a statue carved from hot flesh. Like...like that statue of Pravus but alive and sexy."
Shawn's mention of the king brought my mood down for a second. I had a passing thought for the statue, all alone on the nameless plains. I had a passing thought for Fidum, for the man who showed me what true dedication was all about. I thought about the dished spot of earth fused to glass where Pravus died and about the big book of history that Fidum had given Neb and the little book of faith that he had given me. I thought about that day and everything that happened.
Shawn kissed the end of my nose again. "Where did you go?" He asked.
"Out to the plains." I answered without elaborating.
Shawn licked the flat of his tongue over my lips. "Don't go there." He said in his sultry, bedroom voice. "Be here, with me."
As a way to answer him, I ran my hands along Shawn's corded thighs and over his smooth muscled body. I let my fingertips refresh their individual memories as they explored his perfection. I kissed my husband, and I tasted the familiar saltiness of his mouth. I wanted more sensations of him. I took my mouth from his and used it to lick along his face to his ear. I licked and nibbled his sculpted ear to his gasping delight. I traced my tongue along the back of his jaw and down to the side of his neck. I breathed his scent and kissed and licked his strong throat.
I kissed my way along Shawn's collarbone and licked a path toward his defined chest. I had plans of teasing his nipples, but I wanted more of his scent first. I pushed his left arm up and pressed my face into his armpit. I breathed deeply of his end-of-the-day musk. "You smell incredible tonight." I complimented Shawn's armpit and inhaled more of its essence.
"Really?" He asked. He sounded hesitant. "I was debating a shower. I felt a little clammy, sweaty maybe, from our walk earlier."
I breathed Shawn in again and objected to his idea. "Don't you dare wash that away. It's turning me on." I rubbed my face into Shawn's armpit to smear his musk across my skin and tickle my face with his hairs. I stuck out my tongue and used the flat of it to lap at his underarm to taste the salty masculine sweat of his body.
Shawn had told me before, and reminded me earlier that afternoon, that he thought my preoccupation with his scent was a little animalistic, but he liked that I enjoyed everything about him. I'd loved the way Shawn smelled from the very beginning, but I'd been somewhat cautious about how much I let him see me enjoy it. Bem had been the catalyst to me exposing my full lust for Shawn's musk. As I played in his armpit, I looked forward to scenting the rest of his body, his groin, under his sac, even his feet.
Shawn seemed like he didn't want me to get lost in a full `musk hunt,' which is what he called it when I went on a scent and taste tour of his body. He lowered his arm to force me from his pit. I withdrew reluctantly. Shawn tried to guide my face back to his for more kissing. I resisted. I tried to push his arm back up to get at my prize. Shawn slapped my hands away. "Misses Barrett said I'm in charge tonight." He scolded me sharply.
I gasped at the scolding. A thrill of erotic energy shot through me as Shawn put my hands where he wanted them and plunged into my mouth for some violent kissing. I was so excited. Our recent trysts had been sessions of very mutual lovemaking, but I knew from the way Shawn had just set the tone, that this session would not be one of those.
Shawn had taken full control. I loved when he did that. I loved following his lead. Sometimes he would become an aggressive, insatiable, beast of a lover, and sometimes he would be slow and gentle. I wondered which that night would be.
Shawn didn't make me wait long to find out. He aggressively plundered my mouth with his tongue, then withdrew it to lick over my lips. He leaned away from me and caught his breath. "We're going to go slowly tonight." He said. "We have all this time and this soundproof room and I'm in charge and we're going to go very slowly. I want to enjoy you. I want to make you beg."
Shawn hit me with the up-from-under look that drove me wild and waited for my answer. I submitted to him completely, like I always did when he asked me to. "You're in charge, after all."
"You're right," he grinned mischievously, "I am."
We had a great night.
A set of adult male knuckles pounded on the bedroom door and woke me in the morning. The sun was already streaming through the windows. `It must be late.' I thought and got up to answer the knocking. I didn't bother to put anything on, but I only opened the door enough to slip my head through the gap. "Yeah." I grunted as my brother came into focus.
Joe's mouth was open like he was going to say something, but no sound came. He froze and stared. "What do you want?" I asked.
My question seemed to get his brain working. "I want to talk to you...about things."
I blinked at my brother through the `I just woke up' fog and nodded my agreement. "Sure, Joe. Thirty minutes, OK?" He nodded back and went away.
I went to the master bath to get cleaned up. When I saw myself in the mirror, I understood why Joe had stared. My shoulder-length hair was a twisted mess, piled on top of my head and set with dry sweat. The bird's nest was especially silly looking because it was mashed off center from me sleeping on my side. Shawn liked to twist my hair around his fingers. He liked to do it when we kissed and when we made love.
It was a habit he'd developed after we were married, when our lovemaking became more intimate. Something about feeling his hands in my hair and on my head as we did things, it was very personal. It added an extra layer of trust to what we already felt for each other. He did it frequently enough that for me to wake up with a matted beehive on my head was not unusual. The unusual part was that no one except Shawn and Bem had ever seen it. A pang of embarrassment struck me, but I couldn't hold onto the shame. The situation was too silly not to laugh at.
I went through my morning routine and woke Shawn when I was finished. He set about getting ready and I went downstairs to see what was cooking. It was after nine and everyone else had already eaten. Joe had assembled the leftovers as a sort of breakfast casserole and left it in the oven on warm. I was cutting a slice when he walked in from the dining room and leaned against the counter. "How are you this morning?" He asked.
I hedged my answer. "That depends on what you want to talk about." I felt great but was worried about the looming discussion.
Joe didn't say anything. He went to the coffee maker, filled a mug, added cream and sugar, and carried his cup to the table. I filled my own with black coffee and joined him. I took a sip and waited with my breakfast getting cold on my plate while Joe rotated his mug on the tablecloth. His eyes flicked up at me. "Eat it while it's hot." He said.
I covered the casserole with ketchup and dug in. Joe fiddled around with his coffee for a while longer before he spoke. "I guess I'll just start. Uh...I couldn't sleep much last night. I kept nodding off and waking up. I found out that soundproofing stops sound, but it doesn't stop the floor from creaking. I fell asleep, woke up two hours later, and you guys were still at it. How is that possible?"
I choked on Joe's question and had to drink some coffee to swallow a lump of sausage that had stuck in my throat. I was mortally embarrassed, but also surprised that Joe had asked me a reasonable question instead of berating me for having a marathon session of man-sex in his bedroom. From the time I climbed the steps the previous night, I'd expected a lecture that morning. The fact that the anticipated lecture was replaced with voyeuristic curiosity on Joe's part was wreaking havoc on my not-quite-awake brain. Are we going to have this conversation with him?' I asked myself. Probably should. Refusing to talk won't make him go away.'
"We weren't still at it," I corrected Joe's misconception, "we were at it again. The longer sessions are like a boxing match. When one round is finished with no decision, we go to our corners until the bell rings for the next round."
"What constitutes a `round?'"
"Usually each of us...uh...finishing counts as a round." I explained and felt very awkward doing it. I shoveled food in despite, or maybe because of, the stress of talking about my sex life with my straight and disapproving brother.
"So, I guess when I woke up later that was round two." Joe reasoned.
I almost choked again. The heat that poured from my face told me I was deep scarlet with embarrassment. "Actually, that was probably three."
Joe didn't speak for a long moment. I don't know what expression he wore because I couldn't look at him. "I don't believe you." He said flatly.
I raised my hot face to look at Joe squarely. "Go ahead then, ask me the way you want to."
Joe fixed his gaze and asked me with his magic. "How many times did you have sex last night?"
"Four." I replied under compulsion. "Do you believe me now?" I asked when the honesty urge passed off.
"I have to believe you, don't I? That doesn't make me any less shocked. When I was eighteen, I couldn't have gone that many times. Two was the limit and I needed an hour between. You're a machine." Joe was silent for a moment before he asked another embarrassing question. "How much sex are you used to? When my power activated, you and Shawn said some very needy things. Some of them are still haunting me. Shawn said it had been four days. Is that a long time?"
"It is for us. We're usually good for somewhere between three and eight sessions a week."
"Uh huh. Sure." Joe's words were soaked with sarcasm. "That's a thirty-day week, right? No, seriously, how often?"
I made hard eye contact with Joe and confirmed what I'd said. "Three to eight sessions in a seven-day week. Very rarely more or less than that. That's sessions, not individual completions." I stared at Joe until the fact that I was telling the truth sunk in. He was shocked.
"You're almost forty-six years old!" He exclaimed.
I took another bite of breakfast and drank some coffee while I waited for Joe's shock to die down. I swallowed and tried to make him see how it was for me. I wasn't sure it was the right thing to do, but I went ahead anyway.
"I don't feel that old. I feel great most of the time. My magic supports my energy and helps energize Shawn when we're...uh...close. Early on, Shawn worried my magic overflow would be like steroids...you know, negative side effects and stuff. Turns out, it supports the energy of anyone close to me and helps with healing to. My magic is a performance enhancing drug with no side effects. I still run down and need rest, but I have tons of endurance. Besides, not every time is a marathon, some will be, but the rest are shower quickies or short `good morning' sessions."
"You sound like addicts." Joe said with the condescension back in his voice.
I pointed my fork and fired a volley of anger at him with as much heat as I could manage without shouting. "Don't presume to judge us. There are worse things to make a habit of than mostly-monogamous sex with my husband."
Joe's tone backed off but that didn't stop his opinions. "That's true, but it still seems like an awful lot."
I set my fork in my empty plate and folded my arms on the table. I loaded my mental gun with a round of logic and fired it at my brother. "OK, Joe, how many times a week do you pleasure yourself?"
"Every day, I guess. Why?"
I broke out my best smug face. "Now who sounds like an addict? I haven't done that since Shawn and I started our physical relationship."
Joe thought about that before he begrudgingly conceded the point. "I suppose that's fair."
I unfolded my arms and went to get more casserole. "Church." Joe called after me.
"Yeah?"
"What's...uhm...when you and Shawn...uh...you know, what's it like?"
I came back to the table with a full plate and another cup of coffee. "What's what like Joe?" I asked as I sat down. I shook the ketchup bottle, flicked the cap open, and squeezed the savory tomato goodness in an even layer over my food.
"You and Shawn," Joe pressed his question without adding to it, "what's that like?"
I plunged my fork into my breakfast, gathered a big bite, and almost had it in my mouth when the meaning of my brother's question made its way into my head. I set my fork down in my plate with the food still on the end of it. I set the heels of my hands on the table like I planned to push myself away from it and spoke to my plate. "Are you asking me what sex with my husband is like?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know." Joe said weakly. "I guess I don't see how it's enjoyable. I mean, you admitted you do both...you know...uh...you said you...what's the word?"
I took pity on Joe and provided the vocabulary that he needed. "It's known as topping' and bottoming.' Are the terms self-explanatory or..."
"NO!" Joe barked and waved his hands to stop me from getting more specific. "No, that's clear enough." He rubbed his neck again and looked very uncomfortable. His discomfort, and mine for that matter, did nothing to dissuade his pursuit of knowledge. "I suppose it would feel good to...uh...you know...`top,' but does the other...you know...uh...receiving...seems like it would be unpleasant."
I was stunned by Joe's question. My mind recoiled at the idea of trying to explain what bottoming feels like to my straight brother. I couldn't think of any reason for him to ask other than intellectual voyeurism. `Maybe a careful answer with no details and he'll go away.' I thought.
"It's only unpleasant if you don't do it right." I offered. "Otherwise, it's very enjoyable. There's a lot of nerves in that area, and your prostate. Stimulating them feels good. If you could separate your mind from the physical action, you would enjoy it as much as I do. Besides, it's not just the act, it's the connection to Shawn or Bem, it's feeling them love me, that's what makes it good."
Joe's brow furrowed at the idea. It seemed to make him uncomfortable enough that he moved the conversation along. "I guess `mostly monogamous' refers to Bem." He said without verbally addressing my last statement.
"Yes," I picked my fork back up and readied the bite I'd laid down earlier, "he's the only third we've ever added."