Page 24 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

I turn off the light in the bathroom after I dry my hands, leaving him standing there. His dick is still hard and standing up, and I want it inside me with each throbbing pulse at the apex of my thighs…but protecting myself is the only thing I’m half decent at.

Putting up walls where necessary and drawing boundaries are things I’ve gotten good at so that no matter what happens, I’ll be okay.

I will be.

I throw on a pair of leggings and my thickest pair of socks — not that they’re thick enough — then reach for Blanks’ sweater, my ring snagging the yarns again.

I groan and slip the tall set of rings off.

“You don’t like it?” Alexander watches me.

“I’m not used to it; it keeps snagging on clothes.”

“I would prefer you left it on…” He trails off, standing in my bedroom unmoving.

Looking at him, I attempt to infer what he means, but I’ll leave them if it’s important to him.

“Of course, I’ll leave it,” I nod as I slip the rings back down.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asks.

“Umm, yeah,” I sort of laugh. “I need to blow off some steam. I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“It’s only 5:00 A.M.,” he says, like that will deter me.

“Which is like my 6:00 P.M. My sleep schedule isn’t quite right yet.”

He nods, then starts slipping his boxer briefs on. I watch as he gathers his clothes, curious to know where all this would lead.What would our everyday look like?

I assume he’s home or not working because of the holiday, and that’s why Blanks is here, too. But maybe they’re just with each other all the time? Blanks saidinseparable.

Do they even work? When are they traveling next? And am I expected to go?

“I’ll be back in two minutes. Wait for me.”Huh?Alex walks around me, slipping out my door, clothes and boots in hand, only his tight black briefs covering his backside.

His quads, like thick teardrops, will haunt me…Fuck, I want him. I wanted him the second I saw him. Ineededhim the second he laid a hand on me in that car.

I can feel myself clenching, yearning for release, but I won’t let myself do anything about it. At least not yet.

Without a beanie, heavy jacket, or boots, I’m questioning if I’ve thought this walk through when Alex bounds down the stairs in thick khaki pants, hiking boots, and a long-sleeved thermal. He’s also carrying an armload of things.

Immediately, he passes over a jacket and knit hat, which I accept without question because what else am I supposed to do? Freeze?

He dons a hat and jacket, and we head for the front door.

Stepping out and into the frigid morning is bracing. There’s something about seeing frost lining every little thing yet knowing this will all be gone by the time the first sunbeams touch down. It’s like a secret world before the rest of the living wakes. Like in this secret world, anything that exists here stays here.

Like what just happened between Alex and me. This walk. It would all stay in this alternate reality before being bleached away by the sun. And I’m okay with that. Low expectations meanI’m not anticipating what just happened to ever happen again. Even if I want it to.

“I guess, where to?” I ask awkwardly, and he motions for me to follow.

Alex leads me to the clearing, where he chops wood and points to two small paths carved out between the trees.

“This one,” he motions to the path on the left, “goes further up the mountain. I’ve cleared about 5 miles.” Pointing to the path on the right, he says, “This one goes down to a hidden cove. It’s about a mile and a half round trip.” I nod my head towards the path on the right.

Someday, I’ll take the 5-mile trail. Preferably when I’m dressed appropriately and alone.

The path to the cove is rocky in spots, and we have to climb and travel along a ridge before starting the descent back towards the water line. I can’t see much because of the lack of sun, but occasionally, I glimpse the glint of moonlight on water through the trees.