Chapter Sixteen

Loncey

Glancing over her shoulder at me, Harley gives me a meaningful stare. It's the "Hurry Up And Come Look." I give her the quickest, shortest nod. I know, woman, I know. She acknowledges me with a slow blink of both eyelids, an act that will barely be detectable on camera, and then she turns round again and continues to thrust hard into Miko who is bent over in front of her, groaning. He's already come twice but with one hand stretched out on the bed, and another busy between his legs, it looks like he's getting ready for another.

I know Harley's sore. She already told me that before the scene even began as she and Miko did another big scene yesterday that was very impact-heavy. I'd suggested we do something different based on that fact, but she insisted. It's been a while since she's topped in a scene with us and it's rare that that aligns with Miko's desire to bottom so I wasn't surprised when she insisted on proceeding. But the least I can do is come quickly for her. Except, I can't. And I can't even do the thing I know will help.

I want to think about Maeve. I want to imagine what she smells like, how soft and smooth her skin is, and how her sing-song accent sounds in my ears without the phone or Internet distorting her voice. I want to know if her hand feels small in mine. I want to know what her hair would feel like draped over my chest. I want to know if she likes to be the little or the big spoon, or if, like me, it depends on the day.

And then there are the other things I could think about, dream about, fantasize about that would get me off, would get this over for Harley.

But it feels wrong. I said we were friends. I want to be friends with Maeve. But even friendship feels like a too-fragile concept after she didn't reply to my last message. And now two weeks have gone by with no communication at all and I can't help but conclude that this is what she wants. For whatever reason, Maeve doesn't want to be friends with me. So thinking about Maeve feels not just wrong and disrespectful, but offensive, insulting.

So I don't think about Maeve. And I wait until Miko is moaning out deep and low as another orgasm wrecks his body and I bend over and whisper close to Harley's ear, low enough that the camera won't pick it up, "If you can come too, do it. I'm not gonna. So just come."

She freezes her movements for a split second but then her hips are thrusting again, faster this time, finding her own rhythm now I'm doing little more than rock into her, relinquishing my control over her movements.

"Whose hole is this?" she calls out.

"Yours," is Miko's muffled reply as he keeps his head pressed into the bed, his body rising and falling with heavy breaths.

"I can't hear you. Who do you belong to?" she asks as her thrusts quicken.

"You!" Miko moans, louder. "I'm all yours. Jesus, Harley. You're so beautiful. Fuck me harder."

"I want you to come again. Feeling you clench around me will make me come," Harley says, and I see a bead of sweat travel down her slim back.

Not for the first time, I feel like I'm intruding. They have such an intense sexual connection, and I know it's one that is strengthened by opening it up to me and others, but still I feel like this is a moment I shouldn't be a part of. And yet, to just get up and walk away would ruin the scene.

Miko sighs through gritted teeth as his hand continues to play with himself.

"Such a good boy," Harley tells him and I smile. I know how good that makes Miko feel when he's in the right headspace to hear it and from the whimpering that starts to come from him as he turns his head to the side and looks up at his girlfriend behind him, I know he's lapping it up.

Once upon a time this would make me come. There was a time when I was part of this dynamic but it's not working today. It hasn't worked for a long time.

But I do feel the shadow of something as I watch Miko cry out, arching his back and pushing into Harley, who is fucking him so hard that I've fallen out of her completely and am simply holding her hips as she rides her way to her own climax, which comes less than a minute after Miko's. She leans over him and shudders as she comes inside him, her mouth leaving countless kisses all over his back.

"Oh, God, Miko, oh God."

"That's my girl," Miko's mumbled reply makes me smile and has Harley starting to chuckle, her body shaking.

"I love you so much," she says in a rush as her breath is yet to slow down.

"I love you," Miko replies. "Fuck, I love you."

I pull back further and take my hands off Harley. If I felt like I was intruding a moment ago, I feel like I'm downright trespassing now.

I also feel something else.

I feel… jealous. Envious of their bond.

I find myself wanting to remember what it feels like to have someone tell me they love me. I find myself wanting to recall what it feels like to have someone cover my back in kisses. I find myself remembering that warm, affirming feeling of being safe in someone's arms, and of offering them the same security and validation. Before it felt suffocating and exhausting.

But there's no time to dwell on that. The cameras are still rolling and I'm going to do what I sometimes do; turn this less-than-perfect ending to a scene into a learning opportunity.

I turn to the camera nearest me, about three feet away from the bed, mounted on a stand that also has a ring light behind it, and I point to my now fast-deflating dick.

"That's the way it goes, sometimes," I say. "Sex is not always about orgasms, people. But fuck, that was still a hell of a lot of fun. Peace."

I switch the camera off.

"You didn't come?" Miko is rolling over and pulling Harley into his arms. The other camera will no doubt catch the cream pie coming out of him in a few seconds; viewers will go nuts for that, and I can probably edit it in but cut the audio to make it work. Harley curls up in a ball beside him, still leaving kisses on his chest.

"Not this time." I sit on the edge of the bed and lean back, catching my breath and gathering my thoughts, many of which are still confusing and conflicting.

"You okay?" Harley asks.

"Yeah, you know I don't need to come." I start looking around for my underwear.

"No, not about that. In general," Harley says, lifting her head slightly so she can see me better. "You've been a bit quiet the last few weeks."

"I'm fine," I say quickly. Too quickly, perhaps.

"Is Jessica okay?" Miko asks.

"Yeah, she's good," I say. And she really is. Her last tune-up yesterday showed some improvement in her lung capacity and the doctor even went as far as to credit Prince with the development.

"Want to come lie down with us? Enjoy some aftercare?" Harley asks and she opens up her arms. A beat later, Miko does the same thing, beckoning me over to them both.

I could go. I could lie down next to them and enjoy their hugs and easy conversation. I could maybe even sleep with my head on Miko's strong chest, and with my fingers tangled with Harley's on his stomach. But whereas once that gave me a feeling of homecoming, of being where I belonged, I know it won't come. It hadn't come for so long by the time I broke up with them, there's no way it will magically appear today.

Besides, I don't need that feeling. My life is perfectly full without that kind of a relationship. I have enough people who love me. And I have enough things to do. Like right now, I literally have a lot that needs to get done. I need to get home, get showered and edit this footage. I need to walk Prince with Jessica and I need to make dinner for us all.

This is just a crash of hormones since I wasn't able to come. This is like blue balls for my emotions. I just need to go home, get busy and forget about what I felt watching Harley and Miko.

And I definitely need to stop thinking about Maeve.

Maeve who I am going to see in less than a week.

Maeve who didn't reply to my message.

Maeve who, I suspect, doesn't want to be my friend.

Maeve who may never actually explain to me why she doesn't want to be my friend. And that's okay. She doesn't owe me anything.

And I don't owe her or anyone, other than my mom and sister, anything. Which is exactly how I like my life.

"I'm going to go home," I say.

"Are you sure?" Harley asks. "Doms need aftercare too."

"And later we can order in and play some cards," Miko adds, because he'll take any opportunity to kick my ass.

"A long shower is going to be my aftercare. And some meal prep."

"You're so weird," Harley says into her boyfriend's skin. "I love you, Loncey."

"I know you do." I reach behind me and find her toes, the nails painted neon purple, squeezing them. "I love you too." I move my hand to grip around Miko's hairy ankle. "Both of you. But I think you need this moment just the two of you."

"And you need to be by yourself?" Miko drops his arm.

"I am a Scorpio with Aries moon and Taurus rising." I stand up, moving over to the other camera and switching it off.

"But you used to be our Scorpio with Aries moon and Taurus rising." Harley pouts at me.

I laugh softly, finding my boxers and pulling them up.

"They'll be our Scorpio with Aries moon and Taurus rising next week at XXXCon. You're still happy to share your room with us?" Miko asks and I look back to see him stroking Harley's hair.

"In a huge suite with two king beds, yeah, I think I can manage that." I scoff.

"Like old times," Harley says but her voice is barely more than a whisper.

"She needs to sleep," I say pointing at Miko. "And some aloe vera balm for her ass when she wakes up."

"Yes, boss." Miko salutes me and then he finds the blanket hanging off one corner of the bed and pulls it up over both of them.

A few minutes later and I'm fully dressed with my bag over my shoulder and the memory cards from the cameras safely in my pocket. Both Harley and Miko's chests rise and fall in slumber and I lean over the bed and kiss both of their heads, one at a time.

"Goodbye my Sagittarius King and my Aquarius Queen," I say and then make my way out of their apartment.

*****

"Have you got your mask?" I ask, possibly not for the first time, as I watch Taylor and Jessica walk to the front door.

"Yes. Jesus." Jessica frowns at me.

"Don't Jesus me. I'm just trying to keep you alive," I grumble. I know they're just going to the movie theater and that it's for a movie that's been out for weeks already so unlikely to be a packed theater but still, she needs to wear a mask.

"Well, tonight that's my job," Taylor says with an awkward smile. "And my mask is in the car."

"You have to focus all your attention on keeping Prince alive instead," Jessica tells me, pointing her finger my way.

"I think I can do that."

"Speaking of which, go grab him while we sneak out otherwise he'll be out this door in a heartbeat trying to follow us."

"Promise me you'll put your mask on?" I ask again, sounding more like I'm begging.

"Yes." Jessica sighs.

"Okay, go. Have fun!" I walk toward the living room where Prince was napping a moment ago, but I turn back just as Taylor and Jessica walk through the door, checking they close it behind them. That's when I see Jessica slide her hand in Taylor's as they leave the house.

"Well, fuck," I say. I need to talk to Mom about this.

The click of the front door closing has Prince sitting up, ears upright and alert, as I approach him.

"Sorry, my friend, you missed your chance. Door is closed. She's gone. It's just you and me."

I settle on the couch and take my phone out of my pocket. Mom is at a home birth and she texted less than an hour ago to say that it was slow-moving and that she would likely be there all night.

Mom, we need to talk about Jessica. I think there's something going on between her and Taylor.>

Much to my surprise, Mom texts back almost immediately.

And what if there is?>

I stare at those five words for a long time, only half aware of Prince curling up on my lap.

You think it's a good idea?>

I think it's wonderful. If they're happy, I'm happy.>

Mom, Jessica can't have relationships.>

Says who?>

She has to wear a mask to go the movies. Having…>

I pause, delete, and start that second sentence again. Getting closer to someone than that is a big risk.>

Taylor is a smart woman. She knows the risks and what to do to keep Jessica safe.>

But what will happen when Taylor wants to travel? When Taylor maybe wants to go work in another state? Away from us? What if Taylor wants to get married and have kids?>

Slow down, Lawrence. You're about one hundred miles ahead of everyone, including the two people who are both perfectly old enough to make their own choices about their relationship.>

I sigh and drop my phone. Tipping my head to the ceiling, I suck in a deep breath. I must stay like that longer than I realize because when I look back down at my phone, there's another message from Mom.

I know this is hard for you. It's uncharted territory for us all, but I'm happy for Jessica. She's found someone who cares about her, who she cares about too. Maybe you've forgotten what that feels like, but it's a pretty special thing.>

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw starts to ache.

"Fuck this," I say to Prince, nudging him off my lap, possibly a little more roughly than is necessary. He growls at me but then finds a cushion that is apparently just as comfortable and settles again. Getting up, I rush into the kitchen and find my mom's emergency bag of cannabis gummies. I pop one in my mouth and start chewing.

I feel discomfort simmer in the pit of my stomach and as I stare out across the yard at my cabin, I find it's impossible to ignore what this unsettled feeling is really about.

Because my mom is right. I should be happy for Jessica. I should be helping facilitate it rather than scheming about how to make it stop. I should be researching ways in which other 12% CFers have intimate relationships and minimize the risks of infection, not trying to just make the problem go away. I know my attitude on relationships has changed over the last few years, and I know I've got these new expectations and boundaries for myself, but why am I applying them to my sister, someone who deserves love more than anyone?

"Fuck this!" I say again after swallowing. The rage tightens my throat and has my voice cracking.

And I know what lies at the root of my despair.

Fear.

Fear of losing my sister.

Fear of not being able to make her better when she gets sick.

Fear of not being enough to keep those I love close to me.

Wait. What? What the fuck?

I grab another two gummies and chew on them like my life depends on it. Then I fill a glass of water and down it while still standing at the sink. Doing this a second time, after the glass is empty, I set it aside and find Prince's leash on counter.

A walk with this little fluffball that has so improved my sister's life will help. A walk under the stars will help. A walk in the dark – and the gummies I just devoured – will help bring me back to myself and what really matters – supporting my sister and my mom, providing for them and helping them be happy, even if that means challenges and hurdles – and I will work out some of this rage and tension and yes, fear, out of my body.

"Come on, Princey, let's go!" I call out, but by the time I walk back into the lounge, I can hear his soft snores, his little body curled up and tucked in on itself.

Or I could do something else.

I walk into the dining room. We only use it now and then, seeing as we have a table in the kitchen that is plenty big enough for us all, and sometimes we just prefer to eat in front of the TV when Jessica is in the middle of one of her movie binge-watching sessions. This is why the room has been commandeered by Jessica and Taylor and their latest painting obsession, which has seen them use up all of the supplies I had.

It doesn't take me long to find what I'm looking for – a clean canvas, a piece of cardboard I can use as a palette, tubes of acrylic paint in the colors I want, and a couple of clean paintbrushes – and I balance it all on a folded-up easel. The gummies start to take effect by the time I'm outside in my yard, with one of the kitchen chairs set up in front of the easel holding the canvas. I sit down and look up at the sky, feeling the warmth of the cannabis start to dull the sharp edges of all that tension and rage and fear.

Smiling up at the sky, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, for the black to become so much more than just one colorless void and for the stars to start telling me stories.

It doesn't take long. Or maybe it does and I'm just more stoned than I realize, but after what feels like only a few minutes, I reach for some tubes of paint and squeeze two little blobs on the cardboard, one black and one white. A second later, I pick up a brush and dab it in the black, and then hold it up to the canvas.

Just before I make contact, I look up at the stars again and I hear their message, loud and clear.

"We're here," they tell me. And I don't know who it is. The stars, my ancestors or some other magical kind of spiritual being, but they're telling me very precisely, very deliberately, that they're here, with me.

That I'm not alone.

And I didn't know that was what I was so afraid of. I didn't know that that was the source of my rage and my tension and my fear. But I can't deny it. I can't pretend they're wrong. And I can't have them not knowing I feel them.

"We never left you," they add as I continue to look up at them, noticing Jupiter shining brightly.

"Thank you," I say to the stars, and with blurry eyes, I touch the paint to the canvas.