Barricades Read online

  The suspicion that loneliness was our initial bond bothered me. I wanted to confirm our feelings were more than just two incomplete human beings looking for companionship. I didn’t care if it was too early, trusting my gut was the way to go.

  Less than an hour later, he appeared from around the corner and approached my table with a smirk.

  “Hey.” He sat down, placing his bag on the chair beside him.

  “Hey.” I sipped my latte.

  He looked around, spotted a waiter, and ordered the special Christmas peppermint hot chocolate. Leaning back in the chair, he eyed me, amused. “So?”

  “I was thinking,” I said, setting my elbows on the table, “that the amount of time we spend together isn’t enough.”

  “Oh.” Orestis’s eyes welled up with desire. “You can say that again.”

  “I missed you,” I whispered, leaning even closer, and his smile got wider as his leg brushed mine. He shaved before visiting me, maybe acted differently around me. Seeing him unshaved in person for the first time made me think how much I hadn’t seen of him. I wanted to know everything, the good and the bad, how he would react to sadness and anger. “How do you feel about me?”

  His gaze wandered around before fixating on me. “Is that a trick question?”

  “No.”

  The waiter served his drink. A frown replaced the faint smirk of confusion and his jaw moved sideways. “Why are you asking? Did I do something….” He choked.

  “Hey, you didn’t do anything.” I reached for his hand.

  “Are you…?” His head tilted to the side, his nose reddened, and his eyes glazed behind his big frames. He breathed hard. “Why did you come?”

  “Why do you think I came?” I clenched his hand, and he pulled it away, looking around again. Orestis had a habit of assuming the worst, and I could imagine what was on his mind at that moment.

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  “I….” I stuttered, “I’ll be in Limassol for a month, maybe more.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll be here for work, so I rented a flat for a month. Come and stay with me.”

  He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you serious?” he asked with eyes closed.

  “Yeah…. What do you think?”

  “Yes! Yes! Of course, I’ll come. Yes.” He rubbed his face and a grin appeared again. “What work?”

  “Well… there is a pop-up shop opening tomorrow and I’m presenting some of my pieces.”

  “You didn’t tell me anything.” He slapped my arm.

  “Surprise…?” I shrugged.

  “Geez, I thought you were….”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He sipped his drink, avoiding my gaze. He leaned in, bringing his face closer. “I want to suck you off,” he whispered, licking his lips. Like Pavlov’s dog, my dick hardened.

  “Oh, you will,” I breathed.

  Soon, my Orestis-withdrawal symptoms got more intense and I suggested we leave. We walked to my car, and in the darkness of the night, I pushed against his body, pinning him on the driver door, tasting the watered-down chocolate on his tongue. He gasped, his expression turned pained, fingers clenched, mouth opened wide, inviting me in. More giving than usual. He looked desperate, on the verge of tears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I thought you were dumping me,” he sniffed, resting his head against my chest.

  “Don’t be crazy.” I sniggered.

  “Emir, I have nobody. Here,” he said, hugging me tighter, “is where I feel at home.”

  Putting my arms around him, I stayed still for a minute, ignoring the couple passing by behind me, and whispered, “Get in your car, go pack your things, and come home. I’ll text you the address.”

  His breath vibrated on my chest as he let go, and he shot me a composed smile, nodding. On my way to the flat, I stopped by a convenience store and bought a SIM card since mine didn’t work in the south, along with condoms and a six-pack of beer. I called him.

  “Parakalo?” he answered formally, even though I didn’t know what that word meant.

  “Are you driving?”

  “I’m home.” He paused. “Whose number is this?”

  “Mine, just got it.” Silence in the line. “Babe?”

  “I’ll call you back,” he said and hung up.

  I drove to the apartment and started unpacking. When my phone buzzed, I was puffing a cigarette, bending over the windowsill. I observed the line of ships on the horizon with twinkling lights illuminating the sea. I told him how to find the flat, and soon he appeared with a backpack and a frustrated expression, dried-up tears on his cheeks.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Without words, he threw himself on me, spreading sloppy kisses. His face was bright red and the tension in his erratic movements suggested a panic attack. I led him to the shower and let the water drip as I took control, using my strength to overpower him.

  “Calm down,” I whispered, taking off his glasses. His eyes opened, shining into the dull light. I shucked off his clothes as he grew impatient, and pinched his chin, pushing his head against the wall. “I said, calm down.”

  His shoulders dropped, and the longest sigh came out of his lungs. I stripped down and pushed my weight on his body, giving him a long kiss on the forehead. I held him tight until his heartbeat returned to normal. He stayed still as I spread soap on his body, washing him. I wrapped him in a towel and helped him step out.

  He stood in front of the window, gazing at the view. I put my arms around his waist and rested my chin on his shoulder.

  “What happened?” I asked again.

  “A fight.” His hands held mine above his navel. “It seems here is my only home, literally.”

  “He kicked you out?”

  “No, but I’m not going back. I can’t deal with him anymore.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Ha!” he scoffed. “Same as always, how I am a shame to the family, a faggot who only cares to have it in his ass…. No, really, can’t you see? I’m a nympho, Emir. Don’t you see it? My dad says so, and he is always right.” He rolled his eyes.

  I kissed his neck. “He has no idea who you are, what a perfect creature you are, and believe me, he is the one missing something here.”

  “I hate him, and I hate that I hate him.” His jaw clenched. “I just want to delete him… them… both! Like they never existed.”

  “I’m happy they exist.”

  He turned his face to me.

  “They made you. You were born so I could meet you and seduce you and stand here, hugging you while watching the horizon,” I whispered in his ear.

  “I’m not ungrateful, Emir.” His cheek rubbed on my face. “It’s not like my life has been all bad. There were times I wanted to end it, though.”

  His phone rang and he dashed to pick it up from the table. I heard the name Alex. I couldn’t understand a word he said, but I knew he was talking about his father. His face turned into a smile, and he glanced at me. He was probably talking about his move. I got into my sweatpants and T-shirt, and he did the same while still on the phone. I opened two beers and gave him one. When he was done talking, we sat on the couch.

  “You said there were times you wanted to end your life,” I stated.

  “Yeah….”

  “You never told me that before.”

  “It was a long time ago. When you feel helpless as a kid, waiting to grow up is your only escape, but adulthood feels awfully far away.” He pushed me down, straddling me. “But now adulthood is here.” He ground his pelvis into me. “And I can do whatever I want with my life.”

  I cupped his face, bringing his lips to mine. I wanted to know more, but he’d brushed it off with a smirk. I knew he was as attached to me as I was to him, maybe more. I could feel it as his body moved on mine, as if he was trying to forge us into one. I cast my arms around him until we ran out of breath, and he used my arm as a pillow, staring at me with the m
ost expressive eyes I’d ever seen.

  “Thank you for coming,” he breathed between his spent, swollen lips.

  I caressed his hair with a strange sense of regret. Regret that I couldn’t stop time.

  Orestis

  THAT NIGHT at my parents’ house, I had been packing my bag when George entered my bedroom. “What are you doing?”

  I stood tall, throwing my shoulders back. “I’ll be staying with a friend for a while.” My voice cracked.

  His eyebrows touched as he frowned, and his eyes darkened in anger. He banged the doorframe and threw the desk lamp on the floor. I jumped and took two steps backward.

  “Friend?” he hissed, tilting his head to the side as he stepped toward me. “Who is this friend? Huh?” He raised his hand and I lifted my shoulders, covering my head with my arms when his palm found the top of my head. “Hanging out with faggots.” A slap found my ear. “I am ashamed to show my face in society because of you.”

  I wouldn’t show my face anywhere if I had your mug, I thought and, lifting my bag, ran down the stairs away from him, without uttering a word. To my surprise, he didn’t follow me. My mom was leaning on the door with her arms folded in front of her chest. I gave her the most disgusted look I could muster and opened the door, pushing her away.

  I went to Emir, the only place I wanted to be. The days following that incident were like the serenity after the storm. I was in heaven. No other way to describe it. For two weeks, whether at home, in the car, or at my job, my heart fluttered. I opened my eyes to his face every morning, switched off the alarm so as to not wake him up, and snuggled into him for a while. I took comfort in his skin every night, embraced by his flame, and dissolved in his arms before my mind spun into a dream.

  He took me to the shop where his art was displayed. I was hooked by the artistic environment. Handcrafted items, sculptures, wooden toys, beauty products, and clothes decorated the tables in the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off a handmade kaleidoscope made of rosewood. The walls were covered in paintings, most of them Emir’s. Everyone was unique and radiated positive vibes. Watching Emir socializing with others without being drunk or dancing was refreshing. He was part of that group, unique and vibrant, making me envious and inexplicably proud.

  He introduced me to other artists, who were friendly and welcoming. Norah, one of the artists, praised Emir’s work with so much excitement, it made him blush. She was the one who found Emir by accident and asked him to take part in the fair. It was a whole new world, as if I’d found an entrance to another dimension.

  Strolling by the sea was part of our routine. Sometimes, late at night, we would take off our shoes, roll up our pants, and walk on the wet sand. The cold water froze my toes, but I didn’t care because his warm hands held mine under the moonless sky.

  I was exhausted one Saturday afternoon when my shift ended. All I wanted was some alone time in the bathtub and a weekend full of Emir. When I opened the door, he was standing in front of me, holding a ladle.

  “Welcome home, darling,” he said in a pretentious smoky voice.

  “Hello.” I laughed. “What… are you doing?”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Are you tired?” Before I could respond, he walked over and opened the bathroom door. “Your usual Saturday night bath is ready, sir.” Sir? He pushed me in and closed the door behind me, leaving me dumbfounded. Steam was visible above the water filling the bathtub and my book was on the table.

  “Will you join me?” I called out once I’d taken off my clothes.

  “No.” He flat-out rejected me.

  I stepped into the hot water. It took me a couple of minutes to sink my body in. My skin revived and my spinal cord realigned. I stretched out my legs, touching the tub edge. The endless standing at work had swollen my calves painfully. I put on my glasses and opened my book.

  A half hour in, the water had gotten colder. Lost in the metaphors of love poems, I remembered a verse I read the day before. I called out for Emir and tapped on the side of the tub for him to sit down. I started reciting, my attention shifting from the page to his face, and smirked at his expression. I slammed the book dramatically and handed it to him.

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” I kissed him, and he left before I stood up to wash and rinse the soap away.

  Wrapping a towel around me, I stepped outside, only to feel the air cold against my skin. My teeth chattered as I shivered and ran to the bedroom, wiping my body, trying to get warm. As soon as I got dressed, Emir appeared from behind and hugged me with a blanket.

  “What was that you read before?” he asked.

  “A poem.”

  “I figured that much.”

  “A love poem.”

  “I figured that too,” he replied. “Translation?”

  “No,” I teased.

  “Why?”

  “Because words don’t matter. Whatever you perceived from my tone is all I wanted to tell you. Translating will only weaken the meaning.”

  “Weirdo,” he said. “Hungry?”

  “Are you on the menu?” I asked as I turned and wrapped both of us in the blanket. His head tilted back, giving me access to his neck, which I loved to kiss. The sensual moment was short-lived. My stomach growled, throwing us both into laughter.

  “Food is ready,” he said, “and there is a movie I want to watch.”

  He brought two plates of my favorite food and pressed Play. Israeli men in military uniforms stand at a checkpoint, a bus full of Palestinians being checked, a soldier shares glances with a male passenger, random gunshots fire, and a woman gives birth to a stillborn in the middle of the street. The heavy angst of the intro subsided as the title The Bubble appeared before the next scene. The story revolved around the second intifada and a romance between two men who were supposed to be enemies. I looked at Emir.

  “Why did you choose this movie?”

  “I found the trailer by accident and thought it might be good.” He paused as I stared at him. “We can always switch to a comedy or something…,” he muttered.

  “No.” I swirled spaghetti on the fork. “It looks interesting.”

  The end of the movie found me leaning on Emir’s chest with his arm around me, and tears streamed down my face. We both stayed still until the credits ended.

  “Wow,” he whispered.

  “It’s so fucked-up. This world is. So. Fucked. Up.” I sniffed, wiping my tears.

  “That’s an understatement,” he mumbled.

  “Emir?”

  “Hm?”

  “Never leave me because of external factors, okay?”

  “What are you talking about? We’re nothing like them.”

  I stared into his eyes, silent.

  “Okay,” he whispered. His fingers ran down my back. We moved to bed, situated in our sleeping position, and shared kisses until I fell asleep.

  A SMOOTH touch tickles my thighs, and I can’t control my hips moving. My sensitivity is lost in warm, wet skin. I hear my moans, as if I’m an observer of my own pleasure. My heart races. I gasp and…. I woke up, but the sensation was even more intense. When I half opened my eyelids, the comforter bulged above my legs. The mattress was moving, my hands were clenching on strands of hair, and I groaned, thrusting up my pelvis.

  “Emir,” I called out, “yes, babe, yes.” I hissed. One hand moved under my sweatshirt, reaching for my nipple, rubbing it, while the other circled around my hole. Spreading my legs, I gave him easier access.

  “What are you waiting for? Put it in,” I challenged and “Ahh!” My moans echoed as his thumb reached deeper than expected. Emir gagged over and over, his throat vibrating on my glans, but he wouldn’t stop. “I’m coming,” I called out, then erupted in his mouth.

  I was still panting when his face popped out of the comforter and he moved toward me.

  “Good morning,” he murmured. His voice hoarse, his smile brighter than the sun.

  “It is,” I agreed, pulling him closer to taste my semen on his tongue. “Fuck, it is!” />
  He raised his body, sat on my hips, and looked down at me. “You are not leaving the bed today, unless it is for the toilet.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” He grabbed my glasses and put them on my face. He gave me a cup of coffee and lay next to me. “I’ll ruin you today,” he said with a sly smile.

  “Won’t you go to the shop?”

  “Not today.”

  Emir

  PRESSING PLAY on the post-grunge playlist from my phone, I moved down, focusing on his toes, licking and biting them. He laughed, placing the mug on the nightstand. I ran my fingers above his belt, his hips lifted. I wasted no time pulling his pants down and tossed them on the floor. As I crawled up his body, his smirk widened and his arms fell above his head in surrender.

  “Ruin me,” Orestis challenged, giggling.

  He is getting bolder every day. If this goes on, I won’t be able to control myself. My inner sadist rose to the surface, thrilled. He might not be able to walk tomorrow. Doesn’t he realize what he’s triggering? Probably not, but he is going to find out.

  I stilled, his cock hard and pulsing against my abdomen. “I will.” I pulled off his top, stood up, and turned his body until his head hung at the edge of the bed. I pulled down my pants, my erection springing above his face. His hands grabbed my thighs as I cock-slapped his lips before shoving it deep in his mouth, with my ball sac resting above his nose. I thrust again and again, until he gagged. His knees spread, and his pelvis rose with force against the air. I pinched his nipples and bent over to lick his precum.

  I opened the drawer and retrieved a bottle of oil, squirted some on his torso, and massaged him, focusing on his erogenous zones. Every time I tortured his navel, he grabbed my butt to pull me deeper into his mouth. I squirted more lube into my palm and rubbed his thighs, ending up on his groin. He spread his legs, giving me access to his ass. With no effort, I slipped two fingers in him, but I was too far away to play like I wanted. I slapped his cheek and retracted from his mouth. The hunger in his eyes magnetized me and followed me as I walked to the other side of the bed. I situated myself between his legs and pulled him closer.