Mind Caviar Fiction

Lukas Scott is a novelist and author, and recently has had his first homoerotic novel, Hot on the Trail, published by IDOL (Virgin). He has been a campaigner for gay rights for many years, and wrote the history of gay rights for the group OUTRAGE! a couple of years ago. He also works as a counsellor and an HIV educator. 

There is More to Love (Than Boy Fucks Girl)

They'd both known for the longest time.

 A matter of time, that was all.

 And now, as He knelt between Her legs, there was the release. The freedom. She arched back as he probed inside her, tentatively at first, then firmly and deliciously. Holding onto his head as his tongue explored her, as if for the first time. As if the other times had never happened, as if they hadn't been lovers at any time other than this. Knowing that it would never, could never, be like this again.

 There could be no words. Nothing could be said. It was a physical union that transcended their physical world.

 His own erection was strong, and he played with it as he pleased her. Trailing his wet tongue from vagina to anus, a moist line of ecstasy. She reached down to touch his throbbing dick, and he let her hold it. They were still for that moment, tongue in cunt and hand on cock. Sweet and intimate. Then they moved, a soft swaying like the movement of the planets. Almost imperceptible, but mutually understood.

 The dawn chorus starting outside seemed to become a soundtrack. Everything was in time, everything as one. There were no splits now, no savage divisions in their world. Everything was in place and perfect.

 It had come so suddenly, this knowledge. It had been as subtle and inevitable as the sunrise, which even now was threatening to give birth to the new day. Now, the dreaming between night's death and morning's awakening. The thin line between last night and this morning. Last night, when He and Her had been They. This morning when they would grow apart, but whole. Whole at last.

 She moaned softly as his tongue hit the spot. It encouraged him, and he followed her signals. For the first time, she could let him know what she needed.

 Tonight, this morning, so different from before. They hadn't realised that they had never made love before tonight. The fumblings, the sweat and the empty thrusts night after night. What passed for technique had been an empty shell, as He rutted with Her. And now, the realisation that this was what it could be like. This was what they wanted, yearned for, needed. And, as the morning crept further into the room, there was the realisation that having found this moment they had to give it away. They had to lose it.

 Now, without hesitating, he entered her. It was an artful arrival, a seamless switch of tongue with cock, the rhythm uninterrupted. He could do no wrong now. She could make no mistake. There would only be the moment, the extended eroticism of mutual pleasure. All along, it had been so simple. If only it could have been this honest from the start. If only this language had been so easy to learn.

 How it had taken so long, when now it was so effortless, neither of them could work out. That they had both known was frightening and had never been shared. How strange that they had known each other so well, yet not well enough to let each other share their fear.

 That it had happened at all had been a moment of magic. That tonight had not been like any other loveless night could not be an accident, but had not been planned. Where the beginning of the unravelling had started was unclear, except that nothing had been linear. Nothing had gone straight from one destination to another, but a circuitous journey had brought them here, to this place of intimacy that was now like no other.

 An evening like all the others. There had been the party, there had been friends, there had been the drinks and the music. Then there had been only the Two of them. Him and Her. For the first time, they had both felt lonely. Lonely together, which was a sudden and unexpected feeling that neither of them could voice. Instead of fumbling, stripping and fucking, he'd asked her to go walking with him. Instead of asking where to, she'd moved with him through the doorway.

 Darkness had fallen as they made their way round the lake. Sleeping ducks had woken, feathers ruffled by the couple's silent maelstrom. They'd walked closely together, their footsteps coming into alignment as they made their way. It seemed that everything around them had become still, except for the sudden blurring of a duck call.

 They both knew instinctively that everything had changed, even though no words had been exchanged. They had become different people, and they were living in a different world. This evening had made them different, as surely as if they had both emerged from a chrysalis. Sudden wings ready for flight.

 His thrusting became more urgent, and she ached for it not to happen. He was trying to hold back, but yearning for release. Neither of them wanted to let go, but they knew they had to. That there was something inevitable about it.

 At the lakeside, they'd sat in silence for hours. She'd known he was crying before she'd seen the tears. There had been no shame in his weeping, no embarrassment. That's what had struck her. That somehow their pain was only honesty between them now. When she'd held his hand, he had taken it in silence. He continued to weep and she joined him. All of a sudden their life made sense, and it was the clarity of it that forced the tears to flow. They'd spent so long hiding from the truth, and were now blinded by its light. 

'I know,' she had said eventually. 'I've always known.'

 He'd smiled at her, touched her face. 'I must have known. Somehow. But it never felt like knowing. I never realised it was a secret I was keeping. I didn't know what I was hiding.'

 They hadn't discussed the details. They hadn't talked about parting, but that was inevitable now. There was a certainty that tonight was the last they would see of each other. It wasn't just that things would never be the same again. There was a questioning of whether things had really been what either of them had thought before. They'd never deceived themselves that they had been in love, just as they didn't deny they loved each other. It was only now that they could be honest about what that meant.

 When they'd got back to her apartment, the darkness of the night was already giving way to the greyness of the morning's sleepy yawn. He hadn't asked to stay the night and she hadn't needed to offer. They'd fallen onto the bed, fully clothed and exhausted. It wasn't possible to tell who had started the dance of intimacy, who had broken through their feelings of loneliness. Looking back, she would think that was he had begun planting tender kisses on her breasts, and he would be certain that it was her tongue that had aroused him.

 It was certain that none of it made sense. Neither of them should feel so sensuous, but the honesty between them was contagious. The rules would have denied them this last intimacy, but it was their final gift to each other. His protective lie had gone, and she now experienced his sexual confidence and knowingness. Whereas once it had all been bravado, now his sensuality was transparent and overwhelming. She could tell thatfor the first time his body and mind were in synchronicity, and he was eager to communicate his newfound certainty to her. She would be the last woman he loved, the only woman he could ever love. It was the first time he had been human with her. The first time he'd felt able to be human.

 And now they were ready for their last tumultuous explosion. A new blood was coursing through his body, and she was becoming the woman she had always been frightened of. She would dictate what her lovers did for her from now on, wouldn't feel the fear of desire she that had previously. In losing him, she had found her intimate self. 

Their union peaking, he ran his hand through her hair as she clawed his thighs. The moment was close, and he began to move with urgency. On all fours, they were suddenly a two-headed singular form, spasming with ecstasy. Now they produced a keen chorus, their own song of union. The pulse of his orgasm rippled through her own, a visible movement from one to the other. It continued to flow through them until they fell back onto the bed and broke apart. Sleep took them, and they moved into each other during the dreamtime. 

The sun was climbing the sky by the time he left. She would wake alone but not lonely. He would go in search of his mate, where once he had thought he'd never be able to find one. They'd given each other freedom, honesty, knowledge. The truth had been as simple as letting go. The only thing they had lost was fear.

 All this time, they had known and not dared. For the longest time it seemed that the lie was the only thing they shared. The lie had died, and the world was ready for them now. 

Copyright © 2000-2001 Lukas Scott. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.

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