Page 5

First Moves

JUSTIN

Ping. A message hits my phone.

I’m here.

Axel is outside.

I drop everything and rush to greet him, slowing only as I open the door, because I don’t want to look too keen. When I do saunter outside, I get a massive surprise. He’s sitting astride a serious ass motorbike, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. He looks hot as fuck. His phone is still in his hand, and he slips it back into his pocket as he dismounts.

“Hey,” he grins. He looks sexy and mischievous tonight. He tosses back his hair and combs his hand through it to get rid of the helmet hair and fixes me with a steady look from those intense brown eyes. My knees wobble a little and I lick my lips nervously as I try to hide my reaction to his sexy, masculine presence.

“Hey,” I manage weakly, though a big fat smile is starting to crease my face. I am really happy to see him. And as he looks so positively delicious, it’s no wonder I have a stomach full of freaked out butterflies.

I’m not sure what’s appropriate here. A handshake? A hug? Or is that too much? I have no idea, so I do nothing, just stand there awkwardly. Axel solves the impasse by retrieving a couple of things from his backpack and showing them to me. He’s brought a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates.

“I brought these for your grandparents. I would have brought flowers, but …” he looks at his bike and shrugs.

“Right. Not practical. You didn’t need to bring anything though. It’s just dinner.”

“I don’t like to come empty-handed.”

I blink. Unscrambling my thoughts, I say, “My grandma loves chocolate. She’ll be thrilled.”

I lead the way into the house and my grandmother greets him warmly. As predicted, she’s happy to receive chocolates, though she politely scolds him.

"That's very sweet of you, Axel, but there was absolutely no need to bring anything."

"No worries, Mrs. Beecham. I don't like to come empty-handed."

"Well it's very kind of you, but don't do it next time, okay?"

"Sure thing."

Will there be a next time? I hope so. I cast a furtive glance towards him, but Axel doesn’t seem bothered by the suggestion.

Axel is the perfect guest. He waits until my grandmother is seated before starting to eat, compliments her cooking (and eats seconds), and maintains a steady conversation with my grandparents. The topics are rather adult – politics and stock markets – and Axel seems to have opinions on both, whilst still being able to maintain a diplomatic conversation. The topics pretty much make my eyes glaze over, and when he sees this, Axel draws me into the conversation with a change of topic.

“How did your day go?” he asks me, when there’s a logical pause in the discussion of whether the local member of parliament is actually representing their constituency or their personal interests (I mean, who cares? ).

My spoon scrapes the inside of my dessert bowl before I answer.

“Pretty good. Tried bodysurfing again today but wasn't the best, to be honest. So I went for a rock walk around the headland. Didn’t really do a whole lot, but it was fine. I’m happy just chilling anyway.”

“We can go to the beach another day and I’ll help you again with the bodysurfing, though you probably don't really need it anymore. Some days the waves are just off.”

I smile at him. “Thanks. That would be awesome.”

“You worked on your art today too,” my grandmother chips in.

“What sort of art do you do?” Axel looks interested.

I squirm in my seat and heat rises in my cheeks.

“Ah, just drawing and sometimes I paint,” I say awkwardly. “It’s nothing special. Just something to keep me busy.”

I’m sure my artwork is pretty average, and the last thing I want to do is call attention to it, but luck is not on my side tonight.

“I’d be interested to see it,” Axel cocks his head at me, “if you don’t mind, that is.”

“Maybe.” I don’t want to sound rude, so I add, “it’s really not that good.”

“Doesn’t have to be. Anyway, who’s to judge what’s good in art… it’s all about self-expression, right? Self-expression is a very personal thing,” and he gives me a subtle wink which is just for me. I’m pretty sure he’s not talking about art anymore.

I don't actually have that much experience with this, but I think he just flirted with me and my face and neck probably resemble beetroot right now. I cough a bit and pretend I’m choking on something to cover my embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" Grandma rises out of her chair in alarm.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I stumble over my words, aiming to stop her before she gets going with the Heimlich maneuver. My grandmother is nothing but determined when she gets going.Axel smirks. He knows I wasn't choking.

My grandmother eyes me anxiously, but sits back down again.

A half-smile continues to twist at the corners of Axel's lips. I casually take a sip of water while I think. Putting the glass down, I raise my eyebrows and offer my most innocent expression as I ask, "What about you, Axel? What do you do for self-expression?"

"I like to go dancing." His eyes twinkle. His lips are twisting again and I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. There's a subtext here, that I don't quite understand.

"Oh, I love dancing," my grandmother exclaims, eyes lighting up. I'm pretty sure the kind of dancing Axel's talking about is very different to what she's thinking of. "We used to do a lot of dancing, didn't we, dear?"

My grandfather grunts.

Clearly he wasn't as impressed with it as she was. "That was what we did for entertainment in those days," he says, gruffly. My grandmother starts reminiscing about the things they used to do in their youth, and before long it's 8.30pm andGranddad's eyes are starting to droop.

He stands up heavily and addresses Axel.

"You young folk probably want to stay up and watch TV or something, but I'm going to bed. Nice to see you again, Axel."

Axel rises too and extends a hand. "Thank you for inviting me." He turns to my grandmother and adds, "I think that was the best dessert I've ever had!"

She smiles. "Thank you, dear."

Granddad says, "Leave the dishes 'til the morning, Margaret, let these two have some peace and quiet."

It might be getting towards bedtime for my grandparents, but for Axel and I the night is just starting. Once the oldies have gone to bed and out of earshot, Axel suggests we go for a ride on his motorbike.

“I brought a spare helmet in case you wanted to ride with me. I don’t go crazy on the bike” he assures me, “so you’re pretty safe. Well, as safe as you can be on a bike, still have to share the road with the crazies driving cars. But it’s up to you.”

Would I like to ride on his bike? Hell, yeah.

Am I worried about the crazy car drivers? Maybe I should be, but I’m confident Axel knows what he’s doing on a bike, and what’s life without a little danger? The idea of sitting on the bike behind Axel is pretty exciting. It's worth a little risk.

“Have you ridden before?” Axel wants to know, as he hands me the helmet once we're outside.

“No,” I reply, my squeaky voice betraying a touch of nerves.

He helps me adjust the helmet, and I'm conscious of how close he's standing. My heart speeds up. He doesn't give any indication that he notices he's affecting me as he gives me a few quick instructions. Apparently, I'm to sit behind him, hold on to him, relax, keep my eyes on the back of his helmet and lean with him through the bends. It seems like a lot but I got lost after I realized I'd have to put my arms around him.

Axel gets on his bike, and I get on behind him and put my arms around his waist. I’m nervous about how close I should get, so I leave a big gap between us. Axel shakes his head and pulls me closer, so my front is against his back. The firmness of his body teases me through the layers of fabric. I try to ignore it but I kind of want to pull him closer.

“Hold on,” he shouts as he starts the bike and kicks the stand clear.

Axel coaxes the bike up the driveway and when we pull onto the road, powers up the throttle and wow! This is exhilarating! The rush of the air, the lean of the bike as we take the bends, the dark shadows rushing past us, the throbbing of the engine between my thighs and Axel’s muscular body in my arms. Fuck me! I don’t think I’ve ever felt this sort of rush before.

The road is deserted because it’s late, and as we weave our way around the bends and down the hill to the beach, we haven’t seen a single car. The solitude is amazing. It’s like we have a taste of the most complete and exhilarating freedom. Two souls alone in a universe that's solely ours.

Axel pulls into the carpark of the same isolated beach where he showed me the blowhole. He drops one foot to the gravel and we sit still for a minute. It’s then that I realize I have a complication. Was it the thrill of the ride? The throb of the powerful engine between my legs? Or the proximity of Axel’s strong body? I’m not sure, but my jeans are now uncomfortably tight. This is beyond awkward. My cheeks heat up. I don’t know what to do. Shifting on the seat, I try to adjust myself, and hope Axel doesn’t notice my embarrassing predicament.

Axel kicks the stand down and takes off his helmet but remains sitting on the bike.

When I realize I still have one arm around his waist, I hurriedly let go, in case it's too much. Then take off my helmet.

“Wow!” I breathe. My heart is racing. The sensory overload has my head buzzing. We’re too close. I’m too hard. And I need to say something.

“Oh, man, that was really something!”

Axel turns his head to look at me and smiles, though the smile looks a little strained.

“Yeah, I love taking the bike out at night when there’s no-one on the roads. You did well too. Usually people who don't ride lean the wrong way, which totally unbalances the bike. You didn’t do that.”

His praise warms my insides. His approval is important to me.

“I trust you,” I confess. “I feel safe around you.”

It even feels safe telling him this, especially in the darkness where he can't see my flushed cheeks.

“I’m glad.” Axel speaks the words so softly I’m not sure if he’s saying them to me or to himself.

A minute or two more of just sitting there, then Axel tells me, “You hop off first.”

Oh right. That’s why we’re still sitting here. I swing my leg over the bike and get off. Axel follows. He turns away for a moment without looking at me and… is he adjusting himself too?

That possibility makes me catch my breath, and I turn away to compose myself and give him privacy. When I turn back, Axel is rummaging around in the pannier on the back of the bike. With a grin, he pulls out what looks like a blanket, a bottle and a couple of glasses.

My muscles get a little quivery and my legs threaten to give way. Has he brought me down here to seduce me?

Shockingly, I don’t think I’d object in the slightest.

Still. I don’t want to be just someone he scores with.

“I’m, ah, not sure that's a good idea. I'm a bit younger than you,” I remind him.

“I know,” he smiles softly at me and holds the bottle up so I can see the label. “Sparkling apple juice. I’m not about to get you drunk. Promise.”

I feel a bit ashamed of my suspicions and I’m glad it’s dark enough he can’t read the guilt in my eyes.

“Come on,” he urges me, and leads the way onto the sand. When he finds a spot he likes, he drops the blanket on the ground.

“Can you…?” he gestures at the rug, which turns out to be a picnic rug with a waterproof backing.

I catch his meaning and spread it out on the sand and we kick off our shoes and settle down together. Axel pops the top off the bottle and fills the glasses with apple juice.

He fixes me with an enigmatic gaze and clinks his glass against mine.

“To new things,” he toasts and raises his glass to those beautiful full lips, his eyes locked with mine.

“To beautiful new things and new experiences,” I amend the toast and take a sip from my glass. The juice is cool and sweet, rather like Axel himself, I think. Unconsciously, I run my tongue over my lips at this thought. Axel is staring at me. His gaze flicks down to… my lips? Instinctively I part them. My whole being is drawn to him. I draw in a breath, hold it. I watch him, fascinated. Something burns in the air between us.

His gaze flicks back up to mine. He swallows and turns his head away, breaking the moment.

I look away too. We’re both staring at the ocean we can scarcely see because of the darkness, deliberately not looking at each other. This feels awkward. I don't know what to do.

Axel sighs.

Finally, he whispers, “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“Why not?” I ask, feeling a pang of disappointment in my chest, a little bit of hurt creeping into my voice.

Axel swallows before answering.

“Because… you’re way too tempting,” he confesses, still not looking at me.

Oh! Really? That’s the problem?

“And that’s a problem, why?” I query, now very interested, looking at the back of his head and mentally urging him to turn around. I really like him and I find him really hot. If he's going to drop little lines like that, I am going to eat them up.

“Ah, I’m a bit older than you, not so much in years, but in life experience,” he says, addressing the night and the darkness and the ocean he can’t see, and still not looking at me. “I worry that there might be an imbalance here… that I might be taking advantage of you, if we, ah, if…”

His head turns towards me and suddenly I'm looking straight into eyes so dark in this light that I can no longer make out their color. Even so, this close, I can't mistake the lust I see there, but there’s also such naked longing, that if I wasn’t already sitting down it would surely bring me to my knees. A thrill rushes through my veins. God, I want to suck him off. Or he could suck me. Fuck. At this point I don't really care which, but I want us to do something! Who cares that I'm a total virgin? I'm down for this. Who better to show me the ropes than Axel, this sexy, fun, caring guy who won't make the first move because he doesn't want to take advantage of me...

The only way he trusts this is if I take the initiative.

“Too late for that,” I tell him, bluntly. “I think we’ve already started something.”

I put down my glass, and scoot across the short distance to him, throw one leg over his thighs and straddle him.

The bulge in my jeans presses up against his lower belly. I'm pretty sure I can feel his too.

“Tell me you don’t feel anything and I’ll back off,” I challenge him, unusually bold.

Axel closes his eyes briefly as a soft moan escapes him. He looks like he can hardly breathe. He doesn’t say anything.

Leaning forward, I press my lips to his. They're softer than I expected. These are the lips I’ve been thinking about in moments alone, lips I’ve shamelessly imagined around my hard cock as I stroked myself to completion in my lonely bed. Yes, those lips. And they’re as responsive as I imagined, moving beneath mine and in harmony with mine as he lets me control the kiss.

He opens for me as my tongue presses into his mouth, and he tastes of sweetness and apple and something else indefinably him. Then his tongue surges into my mouth and those powerful muscles move beneath me and he flips me over easily and I find myself beneath him on the rug. Caged but not trapped. I know he’d let me go in a heartbeat if I wanted it. But I don’t, his strength and dominance is a big turn on. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do know I want him closer.

I slide my arms around his waist and pull him nearer as his tongue explores my mouth. His hand slides inside the back of my jeans and over my ass, and he moans into the kiss. I thrust my hips up into him. I’m painfully hard and alarmingly close to coming in my pants. Which, no, just no. I put my hand on Axel’s chest and push back a little. He falters and stills, looking uncertain.

“Keep that up and I'm going to embarrass myself. Suck me off?” I beg him. “Please. I need it.”

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, need it. Please. Now, or I’m going to come in my fucking pants!”

“Show me,” he directs. I don’t want to take my hands off him, but I do, and I unbutton my jeans and unzip the fly, drawing my straining erection out into the cool air.

Axel looks at me with such hunger, like he's going to devour me, and I shiver, then he positions himself between my legs. Very slowly he drops his head and gently, way too gently, swipes his tongue across the crown of my engorged dick, licking away the drop of precum bubbling there.

The wet warmth of his tongue over my sensitive skin contrasts sharply with the cool night air, and my moan sounds obscenely loud in the darkness.

He runs his tongue over his lips and looks deep into my eyes. There’s lust and hopefully something more burning in his, and I feel immeasurably safe exposing myself to this man in a way I never have with anyone before. I know he’ll take care of me. I know I can trust him to lead me in this dance.