BLITHE YOUTH

CAUGHT IN A MOMENT

“C’mon, Raoul,” Iason sighed. “You can’t sit here all day…c’mon.”

He tried to pull Raoul to his feet, but the rogue was too heavy as he made no attempt to aid Iason in his efforts. The flaxen outside the confined universe dissolved in water continued with his endeavors, but to no avail. Finally, Iason expressed his lack of patience, by responding slightly exasperated while backing away.

“Raoul, get a grip on yourself and get off the floor.”

Iason turned the shower off and frowned at his wet clothes. He despised this kind of drama and Raoul was a master when it came to theatrical outbursts.

“Stop sulking and make an effort to collect your thoughts,” he continued lecturing. “If you hadn’t been stupid enough to say all those things, this wouldn’t have happened. You have yourself to blame, Raoul. Now get off the floor and stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

The Deviant watched the last bits of his strength disappear down the drain with the water. He had no will to oppose or to cause another argument and thus, he obeyed like a programmed robot and left the bathroom on harsh command. He had nothing else to do really. The situation was bad and no one could or would ease his pain. This was something only time could heal.

Raoul sat down on the bed not caring the slightest about the sheets, but Iason intervened. He could have refrained from interfering with Raoul’s little whims, but the truth was a seed of guilt had rooted within, forcing Iason into any kind of action that eased the pain – his own. He caught Raoul before the juvenile deviant lay on the bed stating;

“You’ll ruin the sheets if you lay about as wet as you are. C’mon Raoul, don’t be such a…,” the flaxen suddenly halted and swallowed his insults. He stood motionless above the silent one; observing and contemplating on his next move. Raoul was staring hypnotically through the window with face devoid of any expression, and thus Iason made a decision. Slowly he bent over the deviant and placed his hands on the waist of his mate while looking questioningly at the boy. Were his actions accepted or was he considered too blunt? Since the deviant made no apparent moves, Iason removed the wet shirt after which Raoul assumed his previous position; arms resting lifelessly in his lap, eyes wandering beyond the mortal world somewhere outside the window. Iason felt rather awkward in this situation – caring, for Raoul of all people. He was hoping no one would see him like this – ever actually. Wordlessly, he continued undressing the wet boy before him.

Apathy ruled inside every part of Raoul’s body as he lay on the bed. His entire universe was rocking and moving to the tugging of his clothing, and it had almost become a soothing, familiar state of existence when it suddenly halted.

Iason froze. He wanted, but couldn’t move. No, it wasn’t true. He didn’t want to move; he wanted to stay like this for long time. He allowed himself to be mesmerized by the image before him. He recalled his actions from only a few seconds in the past, but it already seemed ages ago. He remembered he had eased the trousers around Raoul’s waist, taken a firm hold and pulled them to the middle of the thighs. Raoul bucked his hips to aid Iason, arching his back to the point where skin almost grazed skin. The world suddenly stopped spinning.

The saturated scent of something familiar, yet completely unexplored, hit against Iason’s face, then swiftly disappeared again as the hips distanced and rested heavily against the bed. Iason’s heart awakened a wild ceremony in his body, and his eyes focused on a shiny mesh of flaxen, curly hair that produced a soft bed for the resting member. A tormenting rush of heat spread through the young body – burning and consuming his spirit. He wanted to touch it so badly; to feel it against his palms. Would it be as soft as it looked or little more coarse like the fur on an animal?

“Your cheeks are blushing,” came as a disturbance of silence.

Iason lifted his head and met the gaze of Raoul. The corners of his mouth twisted into a little smile, but that was all he allowed himself to do. After all, he mustn’t forget what Raoul was – a deviant. He gathered his strength and regained his composure as he spoke;

“So you are awake after all. Good. Take off the rest of your wet clothes and get some rest and…”

“Iason,” a deep voice called out. “Have you ever seen anyone naked before?”

The question was insulting and Iason grunted on a mere reflex.

“Of course, what do you think?”

“Do you like what you see?”

The question was so imposing that it could be considered vulgar, yet Iason had no will to fight it. He wanted to give a clear answer of confirmation, but he played evasive.

“It looks like anyone else’s.”

The moments between words were thick with silence and anticipation. Iason was waiting for Raoul’s next move and though he could have expected anything blunt and brutal from the rogue flaxen, the words spoken made him lose his breath in a treacherous moan that revealed his innocent yearning.

Raoul, however, was ever so cold as he asked; “Do you want to kiss me there?”

Iason gasped, clutching the fabric in his hands, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Do you want to kiss me there?” Raoul repeated, tensing his abdomen and thereby making the beautiful organ assert a discrete sign of alertness with a little twitch. Performing a tiny swagger to invite its chosen partner to an intimate dance.

“By Gods, yes,” rumbled inside Iason’s head. Alluring images of his lips exploring something so forbidden and precious was making his spirit stir within - blooming with sexual arousal. Curiosity was taking him over and just as he was about to mouth a wordless approval to this daring question, he shook his head denying his desire – betraying himself. Raoul nodded, but by no means was he burdened by shame over his crude approach.

“In that case,” Raoul snorted slightly irritated. “Stop staring at me.”

The comment ignited an overwhelming anger within the faltering Blondie; making him back away and reassuming his proud stance. Raoul swiftly discarded the last bits of his clothing, wrapped the blanket around himself and turned his back against Iason. Within a few minutes he was asleep.

“You know Raoul, you are a real jerk,” Iason added and returned to reading his book.