Whistler

 He could feel the swaying of the oscillating fan from across the room. It circulated the dank air created by him and Jason from a night of passion and lovemaking. Chris positioned himself in Jason’s embrace as the little spoon, even though both men were clearly almost the same size. He preferred this position when they slept. It made him feel safe. It was his security.

Jason’s hand caressed up his thigh and pulled him in to hug his chest. Chris felt his tongue behind the lobe of his ear, the gentle nibble of Jason’s teeth.

“Are you awake?” he whispered seductively.

“Shhhh,” Chris said sleepily, eyes closed. “It’s sleepytime, Bubba.”

Jason reached down between Chris’s legs and felt a familiar throbbing.

“Someone’s still awake,” he teased.

Chris rolled over slowly, still in Jason’s arms, and pressed into him, eyes closed. He kissed him on the lips.

“You’re going to wear me out,” he grinned.

The fan cooling off the parts of both of them that the heat of the May evening caused to sweat profusely sent a scent of musk and day-old deodorant through the room.

“You smell intoxicating,” Jason continued, kissing the parts of Chris’s neck that he knew would revive his inner motor, drawing him back into giving Jason exactly what he desired.

Chris could not compete when this play was set in motion, and he knew it. He was ready for another round. He was ready to give Jason the same attention he craved.

“You want some more, Baby?” Chris moaned.

“Yes,” Jason answered without hesitation. “Yes—with you. Always