23. Enlarged Balls

Chapter twenty-three

Enlarged Balls

Saturday passed in a blur of sex, snacks, and intimate conversation between Liel's expensive sheets. By the time night fell, Oliver was drained of every bodily fluid he had, and not even the Gatorade he'd bought in the human section of the shop could revive his exhausted dick. He'd lost count of how many times Liel had come; the demon was insatiable.

Not that Oliver minded. He'd always enjoyed giving during sex. His partner's pleasure turned him on more than any physical act they did to him, and listening to Liel lose his mind in ecstasy kept him hard long after his cock normally would have flagged.

Eventually, though, Oliver's dick was done. Completely and utterly out for the count. So he directed Liel to straddle his face, and he made him come twice more before even Liel couldn't take another round. Sex marathon indeed. Oliver had never had this much sex in one day, even when he was a teenager with endless libido and stamina.

As far as he was concerned, his eight-month dry spell could suck it. He'd certainly made up for all that lost time.

After changing the sheets again , Oliver collapsed facedown on the mattress, dimly aware of Liel curling up against his side, and drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep. At some point in the night, he woke to hot, wet suction on his dick, and he groaned but didn't protest when Liel sucked him to full hardness before taking him inside and riding him slow and sweet. Their shared orgasm was gentle and soft, more of a gasp than a shout in the dark, and Oliver promptly slipped back into unconsciousness before Liel had even dismounted.

They slept late Sunday morning. When Oliver finally roused, he was wrapped around Liel, his back to Oliver's chest. His hand was between Liel's legs, cupping his slit, and Oliver couldn't remember whether he'd done that or if Liel was to blame. He dozed lightly for another indeterminable amount of time as Liel snored quietly, and the strangest thought drifted through his mind.

If I died right now, I'd die happy.

The thought should have worried him, but it didn't. He blamed it on the sex marathon, on the weariness still weighing his limbs down, on the emotional hangover. He should have blamed it on the man sleeping peacefully in his arms, but he wasn't awake enough to fully comprehend the notion. And when he woke to full alertness an hour later, the memory of such thoughts had faded to the recesses of his subconscious.

Naked and lazy, they ate a fruit plate in bed as Oliver took his turn to show off his family pictures. Since he didn't have siblings or any nieces or nephews, he scrolled through pictures of his horses.

"This is Queen Charlotte; she's my mom's. She's an American Quarter Horse, the oldest in the herd, very mild-mannered but a bit proud. My horse's name is Starlight. She's a Quarter Horse too. Most of the herd is, with a few Paint Horses mixed in."

Liel rested his head on Oliver's shoulder and nodded, biting into a white seeded fruit that tasted like grapes. "She's beautiful."

"Yeah she's the only gray roan we have. We have a lot of red duns and a few grullos and Queen Charlotte is a perlino. But when Starlight was born, I knew she was meant for me. She's spirited and stubborn, but we trust each other." Oliver swallowed thickly, eyes misting a bit. "She loves to gallop, so we'd go out to the open plain and I'd let her loose. And she'd run so fast it felt like I was flying. I forgot how much I missed it."

"It sounds lovely but terrifying," Liel admitted. "Horses are just so big. I would probably be too much of a coward to ride one."

Kissing the top of his head, Oliver said, "I'll take you sometime. You can ride behind me. I won't let you fall."

"Going to whisk me away to Montana?" Liel spoke against his shoulder, watching him from under his lashes.

"Do you want to be whisked away?"

"If you're the one doing the whisking," he said, face scrunching at the oddity of the sentence. "I suppose I could be brave and ride a horse, as long as you're there to ensure I don't get trampled to death."

"I'll protect you with my life." Oliver kissed the tip of Liel's flat nose. "Though, we have a saying back where I come from. Save a horse, ride a cowboy."

Liel's smile sharpened, and he pushed the fruit platter to the end of the bed as he climbed into Oliver's lap. "Is that so? Are you a cowboy, Mr. Barnes?"

"I do have a cowboy hat back at my parents' place. Maybe I'll wear it for you sometime, darlin'." Oliver added some Western flair to his voice at the end, and Liel rumbled in approval before crushing their mouths together.

They didn't do much talking for a while after that.

In his SpongeBob underwear, Oliver cooked them a late brunch of smoked demon mini-sausages, eggs from a poultry-like demon animal called a hunlet , and apple juice from the human section of the bodega. Liel sat on the counter beside the stove, yellow legs swinging as he stole mini-sausages from the frying pan when he thought Oliver wasn't looking.

For every missing sausage, Oliver stole a kiss, and Liel would flush dark and beautiful. They talked about everything and nothing, perched on the kitchen island as they ate. They spent a few hours tangled on the couch watching a demon reality show with English subtitles. Oliver didn't recognize the demon celebrities being forced to live together in a bunker as they struggled to "survive the apocalypse" or whatever the hell they were trying to accomplish.

Liel, however, found it endlessly entertaining, laughing boisterously at the dramatics of the entitled demons. And since Oliver was apparently a complete fool for him already, he lay between Liel's legs, head pillowed on his sandy-yellow stomach, and savored the sound of his amusement.

As the daylight began to wane, they made love again, Liel's fingers knotted in Oliver's hair, gazes locked, breath shared as they came—almost painfully—one last time.

"You could stay," Liel said as Oliver lay on his chest, listening to his inhuman heartbeat calm. "The commute is shorter, right?"

"I've been wearing the same underwear all weekend," Oliver said, and Liel snorted.

"Next time, pack a duffel bag."

"There's gonna be a next time?" Oliver asked hopefully, and Liel's fingers stalled in his hair.

"I'd like there to be a next time," Liel said in a wavering voice, and Oliver tilted his head and cupped Liel's cheek to guide him in for a kiss.

"I want that too," he whispered against Liel's lips, and the demon smiled at him like he'd hung the moon.

For the last time, Oliver dressed in his clothes from Friday night. He slipped on his sneakers, admiring how comfy and handsome Liel looked in his simple t-shirt and sweatpants—the only pair he owned. Oliver liked him in his business suit and tie, in his leather pants and suspenders, but there was something special about seeing him like this, like every pretense and barrier had been laid aside.

Something told him that Liel didn't let many people see him this way, this… soft. He felt honored that Liel trusted him enough to lower his walls so completely.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Liel asked, touching his hair self-consciously. "Do I have spunk in my hair?"

Oliver shook his head. "You look so beautiful right now."

Glancing down at his plain outfit, Liel frowned. "I'm afraid all the sex has rotted your brain. I look ridiculous."

"No, you don't." Oliver took his hand and drew him in, tucking his face into the nape of Liel's neck, and simply held him.

Liel looped his arms around Oliver's neck, one hand cupping the back of his head. "Are you okay?"

"Is it crazy that I don't wanna go?" he whispered, like saying it louder would make it too real.

Liel melted into Oliver's embrace, his lips brushing Oliver's ear as he whispered back, "If it's crazy, then I suppose I've lost my mind too. I don't want you to go either."

They stood that way for a long time as Oliver memorized the metallic lightning perfume of his skin and the perfect way his body fit against his. Liel kissed a path along Oliver's jaw, nosing at his cheek until Oliver turned to meet him, mouths reuniting in a now-familiar dance.

"You're going to miss your train," Liel said between kisses, and Oliver shrugged.

"I'll catch the next one."

"Don't tempt me," he chided, and Oliver rubbed their noses together and pecked him one last time before he exhaled in a rush and stepped back.

Liel walked him to the tram stop a block away and bought his ticket, ignoring Oliver's protests. "This is the direct line to the station. You'll know when you get there."

"I take public transportation in Chicago. I'll be fine," Oliver said with more bravado than he felt.

"Sure. Text me when you get home?"

As the tram rolled to a stop, doors sliding open with a creak, Oliver cupped Liel's face and kissed him firmly, slicking his tongue along his bottom lip. "Thank you. For everything."

"Trust me when I say it was my pleasure," Liel crooned, kissing him back fervently. "Come to dinner with me Tuesday? Or Wednesday, or Thursday, whatever day."

Laughing, Oliver nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Okay."

Liel smiled and stepped back, tucking his hands into his pockets as Oliver hurried onto the tram before it left without him. He scanned his ticket, then walked to the closest window seat. He waved at Liel as the tram pulled away, and Liel waved back, standing on the curb until he faded from view.

With a sigh, Oliver slumped back into his seat and grinned to himself.

"Oh I know that look," an elderly demon woman with several tentacle limbs said from across the aisle, smiling suggestively. "Young love is such a wonderful thing."

Love?

Oh god, it was way too early for that, wasn't it? But hell, if Oliver wasn't scared half to death. Because they'd slipped into each other's lives so easily, like they were always meant to be there, and they'd simply fallen out of orbit until now. It was effortless, like breathing, like laughing, like living.

It wasn't love, of course it wasn't. But it tasted close, the promise of a maybe, of an almost, of an eventually. It was the comfort of sunshine on his face and a warm Sunday breeze on his skin. It was the rush of Starlight galloping across an open plain at fifty miles an hour, his arms spread until he nearly took flight. It was the hope of freedom and fresh air and a home that he hadn't known for a long time.

It felt significant. It felt important. It felt so fucking real . More real than anything Oliver had ever experienced.

More real than his first kiss at fourteen—Jacob Juarez with his big brown eyes and glossy black hair. More real than losing his virginity in the back seat of Mary Kay's pick-up truck after Homecoming when he was seventeen. More real than his first boyfriend, than his first heartbreak. More real than cheating-Cory or out-of-his-league-Jill or any other dating-app-hook-up-wanna-be.

So yeah, it scared him. He wasn't afraid , no. But he was scared. Because this could become something. This could become everything.

He blinked, the elderly squid demon coming back into focus, and she nodded, like maybe she understood every insane thought racing through his mind.

"A wonderful thing indeed," she said, before she turned away and looked out her own window.

Oliver tried not to overthink as he rode the tram to Gluttony station. He tried not to freak out as the train rumbled underneath him, speeding toward Purgatory. He tried not to panic as he sat down on the windowless train that took him across the veil.

Checking his phone for the first time all weekend, he startled at the numerous texts awaiting him. Jude had texted to check in. Toni and Rusty had both messaged separately with updates about Gem—he'd recovered as well as could be expected. Rusty had last seen him Saturday evening. Toni had updated this morning that Gem was still resting but bouncing back.

Gem himself had messaged only a few hours ago.

Hey, Rus and Toni said you helped me home Friday. Thanks. Sorry you had to see that. Hope Liel is fucking your brains out as you read this ??

A wave of guilt washed over him. He'd practically forgotten about Gem in the face of all that happened that weekend. He hurriedly found his contact and pressed the green icon to call him.

It rang a few times before Gem's cheery, albeit tired, voice came through. "You better be calling me to spill the fucking tea!"

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Now spill!"

"Gem," Oliver said firmly, and Gem sighed.

"I'm okay, really. Yesterday was literally the worst day of my life. I felt like I was going to die. I kind of wanted to die. But I survived," he said, fabric shifting like he was changing his position. "Today's been better. I'm still tired, like a hangover that won't end. But I'm good, I promise."

"I'm so sorry that happened."

Gem exhaled heavily. "I don't remember most of it, which is honestly the scariest part. Well, Rus being nice to me might have been the scariest part," he amended, a smile in his voice, and Oliver scoffed. "Um, but yeah, it's… fucked up.

"I feel like an idiot. I didn't even notice he'd done something to my drink. Then everything was bright and spinning and…" His next exhale shook. "Asshole motherfucker. If I see him again, I'm going to rip out every feather individually and stuff them down his throat until he chokes."

"I'll help," Oliver offered, and Gem chuckled.

"Thanks. But what would really make me feel better is to hear every dirty detail of your weekend."

Leaning back in his seat, he grinned up at the ceiling of the train. "It was a good weekend."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You fuck?"

Oliver grinned. "Yeah."

"Yes!" Gem crowed, and Oliver laughed. "Oh my gods, tell me everything! Was it good? How many times did you make him come? I hooked up with a Gymnot once, and deities below, he had stamina. I thought I could last for hours, but unholy shit, he drained me. I felt like one of those mummy-things from your human horror movies. Like those shriveled up nasty skeletons? Ah, that was a good night."

Hand over his mouth, Oliver muffled his laughter so as not to disturb the other passengers. "I mean… same?"

"Same? That's it? I want details! "

"I'm on the train right now. I can't give you a play-by-play. Even if I wasn't on the train, I wouldn't. Some things are private. Boundaries, remember?"

"You're on the train? Going where?"

"Back to Chicago?"

Gem's voice shrieked through the phone, and Oliver had to hold it away from his ear for fear of impairing his hearing. "You've been at his place this whole time? Ahhh!"

When the screaming subsided, Oliver pressed the phone back to his ear. "Yes, I've been at his place this whole time."

"I have so many questions. I don't even know where to start. Don't worry, I'll keep them yes or no, so you can pretend we have boundaries. First: did the tentacle dick freak you out?"

Oliver flushed hotly. "No."

"I knew it, you kinky little freak. I love it. Okay, second: did he top you?"

"Uh, no."

"Oh." Gem sounded disappointed. "Are you not into that? Or was he not into that?"

"It just… didn't happen this time. I'd be into it, if he was."

Gem hummed. "Okay, well, this friend of mine bottomed for a Gymnot once, and what they don't have in hard thrusting power, they certainly make up for in targeted sucking stimulation. The suction cup at the end of their dicks is… oh my gods."

Biting his lip to stave off another laugh, Oliver asked, "Is the friend you, Gem?"

"Of course the friend is me. Get your head out of your ass, Oliver, and keep up!"

"You are so intense right now," Oliver said, and Gem huffed.

"I'm reacting with the proper amount of intensity that the situation requires. Now, was it good? Like, scale of one to ten."

"One hundred and nine," Oliver said, and Gem squealed.

"I love that for you! Take that, eight-month dry spell. How many times did you fuck?"

"A lot," Oliver hedged, mostly because he couldn't remember.

"Hm, vague but acceptable. How many times did you get him off? Like, a guesstimate."

Honestly, Oliver had no idea. "A lot."

"I don't think you understand the meaning of details . But since your brain is probably mush from all the crazy sex, I'll allow it this once," he muttered more to himself than to Oliver, before adding, "But good job, Ollie. I knew you'd be generous. Mama's so proud."

"Um, thanks?"

"I told you, I have good intuition, and I knew you'd be a giver. It's why I wouldn't have said no if you'd wanted to fuck. Plus, you're cute, and I've always wanted to fuck a human."

Oliver grimaced. "What? You wanted to fuck me?"

"Oh, I'm a power-bottom, baby. You would have fucked me, and I would have rocked your world. But now you have Liel, your own power-bottom, so we'll never know how dimension-shattering it would have been." Gem sighed forlornly. "But seriously, if Liel is into it, let him top you sometime. It'll blow your mind."

Unsure how he was expected to respond to that , Oliver cleared his throat. "Uh, I mean, I'm vers, so if he ever wants to, I'm good with that."

"See? Generous. I mean, I'm good for a nice top-sesh every now and then, but with an ass like mine, I was born to bottom, you know?"

"What a shame I'll never experience it," Oliver deadpanned.

"I know you're being sarcastic, but it is a shame. Mostly for you. Because my ass changes lives."

"You know what, I think I believe you," Oliver said. "Go share that life-changing ass with the world, Gem."

Oliver heard someone's muted voice in the background, and Gem's hissed reply was muffled, like he was covering the phone receiver.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"No one. Nothing," Gem said cagily. "It was the… wind."

"The wind spoke words to you?"

"The wind speaks to everyone, Oliver. It's nature. Try communing with it sometime!"

"But you spoke back."

" Communing ," Gem repeated. "It requires, you know… collaboration."

"Why are you being weird?" Oliver accused.

"I'm not being weird. You're being weird."

"Why won't you just tell me who's there with you?"

A long pause stretched.

"Gem?"

"It's, uh… my neighbor?" Gem said weakly.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Oliver shook his head. "Okay?"

"He came over," Gem said haltingly, "because he wanted me to see… his balls?"

"What? Why does your neighbor want you to see his balls?" Oliver demanded, garnering several wide-eyed stares from the passengers around him.

Quiet, hissing whispers buzzed through the phone, and Oliver strained his ears, but all he made out was Gem eventually whisper-shouting, "Shut up."

"Gem?"

"Um, his balls are enlarged," Gem blurted, "and he was worried. So he came over to get my opinion."

"On his enlarged balls?"

"Yes, and he's very sensitive about it, which is why I lied about the wind." Gem inhaled sharply. "See it all makes sense. Now, I'm really busy with this whole ginormous-ball situation, so I don't have time to hear about your sex life, okay? Not to be harsh, but it's unprofessional. We're co-workers, and I think we need to set some clear boundaries."

"What?" Oliver shouted. "You just said you wanted to power-bottom for me."

Gem tsked. "See, it's things like that, Ollie. Super unprofesh."

" You said it!"

"And you keep bringing it up. I think the ship has sailed on us. It's time to let go."

"You're lying, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it, mark my words."

"M'kay, Ollie. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye!"

"Gem!" The line went dead, and Oliver stared down at it, utterly bamboozled. "What the fuck was that?"