Chapter 14, A Little Bit

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Eli

Scraping the last of the mashed potatoes into a container, I put the lid on and add the dirty dish to the small pile next to the sink.

“I can wash those for you, Mom,” I say while spraying the counter with disinfectant and wiping it down.

She raises a soapy hand to wave me off. “No, honey. I’ve got it. I want you to tell me about school. You got in so late last night and you’ll go to your dad’s house tomorrow, right?”

I nod my head.

She tsks. “Your Thanksgiving break is so short. I wish you could stay longer. I feel like it’s been so long since I got to see you.”

Guilt slithers into my stomach while I take a seat at the kitchen peninsula, resting my chin on my hand while she continues washing.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I should try to come home more.”

She quickly shakes her head. “No, no, no. That’s not what I mean. I just miss you. That’s all. I’m so glad you’re taking this opportunity and going. It’s such a good school. It’ll open a lot of avenues for your art.”

I grunt in response, not really sure what to say to that.

“Anyway, tell me how it’s been. Your classes. The dorms. Oh! Have you met anyone?” She turns her head over her shoulder, giving me a knowing smile.

Warren’s face passes through my brain. After our last interaction, we haven’t seen each other in a week.

I was planning on avoiding him for a while, creating some space after Katie had called me out on my shit. But he didn’t even contact me. I don’t know if we’re on the same wavelength or he’s still feeling weird about Katie, but either way, I haven’t heard from him.

I picked up my phone approximately seven thousand times to text him. I even thought about doing that thing where you pretend to accidentally text someone, and then go, “Oh my gosh, since we’re talking, wanna come over and touch my dick?”

But ultimately, I think the space has been good. Allowed me to set my mind right. For whatever glow Katie saw to dim down to my regular darkness.

“Nope. Not seeing anyone,” I tell her while drumming my fingers, my eyes wandering around the small kitchen. They stop on the worn portrait of me and Charlotte.

It’s one of those cheesy ones you get from the mall. I’m probably four or five, Charlotte’s eight or nine. She has her arm wrapped around my shoulders and a wide smile on her face, while I scowl from being grumpy and not wanting to be there. Both of us shoved into these terrible, matching Fourth of July outfits in front of a smoky-blue background. A smile tips up the corner of my lips looking at us together.

Mom uses her bottom lip to blow a breath up her face, attempting to get a tendril of her dark hair that fell from her bun out of her face, but it just goes right back. “Well, that’s alright. College is about sowing your oats anyway.”

I grimace and stick my tongue out. “Bleh. Mom. Don’t talk about my oats.”

“Oh, relax,” she laughs, a smile on her tired face. “It’s a part of life. I’m not naive to that.”

“Okay. But no more.”

“Deal. What are you doing tonight? Seeing any old friends?”

I swallow, looking at the counter and trying to choose my words carefully. “No. I’m not here that long. So, you know, I really wanted to go see her.”

Her shoulders tense and then relax while she takes in a deep breath.

It never gets easier for her. Every mention sends her right back to that night. Like it’s happening all over again.

Not that it’s easy for me. Or Dad. But it always hit Mom especially hard. Decimated her.

She clears her throat, stopping her dishwashing and resting her hands in the soapy water. “Is it hard for you? Being there?”

I shrug and begin drawing figure eights with my finger on the brown-speckled formica counter. “I… I thought it would be. But I wasn’t there. So, even though I know that’s where it happened, I have no memories of it.” I switch to drawing little stars, any fidgety task to get my mind half out of this heavy conversation. “I think that makes it easier to disassociate.”

She sighs. It’s long and sad. “You know I’d love to visit you there.” She pulls her hands out of the water, turning to me while she wipes them on a kitchen towel, her eyes wet and sparkling. “But… being there… in that town. It’s just—I don’t know if I’d be able to?—”

I cut her off, jumping up from my stool and coming around the peninsula to take her hands in mine. “Mom. I know. Okay? You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it. Completely.”

She nods her head, exhaling in relief while a single tear escapes her eye. She quickly wipes it away. “Okay, Eli. It was just such a good opportunity for you. I wanted you to take it. And I’m working through it all with my therapist. So, I’m going to be visiting soon.”

I smile warmly at her. “Take your time, Mom. No worries. I love you.”

She smiles back, the roundness it causes in her cheeks making another tear leak out. “I love you too, Eli. And I’m so proud. I hope you know that.”

I turn my head and dramatically walk away from her, covering my face. “Okay, okay. No more gooey stuff tonight, Mom. I’m maxed out.”

She laughs and walks back to the sink, finishing up the few dishes she has left.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and relax for a bit and then I’ll head out.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll be down here. I think I’m gonna call one of my friends. She said she wanted to catch up. We’ll see.”

“Sounds good.”

Exiting the kitchen, I walk down the hall and grab onto the banister, swinging on it and using the momentum to propel me up the stairs two at a time.

I make a point not to linger in front of her room like I usually do. But I can’t resist some type of connection, allowing my fingers to run over her firmly shut door as I pass.

Throwing my own bedroom door open, I fall onto my bed and let the comforts of home relax me.

Except there’s a little nagging in the back of my brain.

I want to text him. Badly.

But for what? I have no answer for that.

Doesn’t seem to stop my phone from burning a hole in my pocket.

How’s it going?

I inwardly curse myself for being a weak shit and turn my phone over so I’m not sitting there staring at it, waiting for it to go from delivered to read .

My phone buzzes. I wait a full minute before picking it up to check it. I know that because I count the sixty seconds in my head. I smile when I see his name gracing the front of my screen.

Warren

Terribly.

How sad. Tell me why, sailor.

Warren

I hate being at my mother’s house.

Go on…

Warren

Do you want me to be honest?

I always want you to be honest with me.

Except about my dick. Always tell me it’s amazing and better than all the others.

The texting bubble pops up, disappearing a few times before he answers, completely ignoring my other comment.

Warren

Because my family is here. I hate it.

Oh. Burn on them. Not a family person?

Warren

If you met them, you’d agree with me. Except my sister.

Well, I kind of met your mom. Or I saw her speak so

Warren

No. You met the senator, not my mother.

I didn’t know they were different.

Warren

They are.

That moment where there’s a lull in the conversation happens. Where one of you has to decide to pick up the slack and keep the conversation going or just let it stop there.

I don’t want it to stop there. But what do I say to keep it going without sounding desperate or clingy?

Thankfully he texts something first.

Warren

I miss our time together.

I smile wildly. Wildly . Almost unable to contain it. Like it’ll split my face in two from how hard my mouth stretches.

Yeah? Is your dick depressed because of it?

The bubbles do their dance a few times again before he answers simply.

Warren

Yes.

Show me.

My heart begins racing. There’s no way that he’ll do it. He’s too uptight. And I don’t even mean that as an insult. I love how uptight he is. How polished and perfect he is. A stark contrast to my disorder.

My phone buzzes again, pulling me from my thoughts. And when I look down, my mouth fills with saliva. I actually abruptly sit up on my bed. Mostly because I don’t know what to do with my body.

A picture of his dick superbly sits there, staring back at me from the screen.

You know how when you haven’t eaten your favorite food in a while, you start second-guessing yourself? Thinking, “Okay it’s good, but it wasn’t that good. Just settle down.” And then you taste it again and you fucking kick yourself for ever doubting how incredible that meal is.

That’s how I feel right now. Because Jesus fucking Christ he has an amazing cock.

His hand squeezes the base of it while it strains straight up to the ceiling, looking thick and heavy along his shaft leading up to the plump head. Shiny and pink, the skin stretched obscenely with how hard he is.

He doesn’t look very depressed to me.

Warren

He is.

There’s a short moment where the bubbles pop up and disappear, while I sit there, my cock now tenting the gray sweats I’m wearing.

Warren

He likes your hands better than mine.

I smile again, my stomach flipping.

Why don’t you stroke him for me?

Warren

Okay.

Warren

I am.

I get up from my bed and quietly tiptoe down the hall and stairs, trying to spy where my mom is. I can see her excitedly talking on the back deck, cuddled up in a blanket with her phone pressed to her ear. Whenever she gets on the phone with old friends like this, she’s always on there forever, giving me the privacy I need.

As I make my way back to my room, I quickly type out my next text and lock my bedroom door behind me.

Can I FaceTime you and watch?

Warren

Sure.

Sitting down on my bed and scooting so my back is pressed against the wall, I hit the FaceTime button and a moment later, my screen fills with the live version of that dick pic. Except now, he’s lazily running his hand up it, slightly twisting around that angry head, letting out a quiet groan before his hand moves back down to the base.

I lick my lips while pushing my sweats down, my erection springing out once the waistband frees it. “Shit, sailor. I missed seeing that.”

He lets out a quiet moan and I grasp onto my cock, squeezing and feeling it twitch back at me.

“I’m gonna switch the camera so you can see how excited I am to see you too,” I tell him, my voice hoarse and ragged now.

His movements stop. “Wait.”

I sit there frozen, my eyes looking around, waiting for him to explain.

“I-I like seeing your face.”

That wild smile from earlier comes back. “Aww. You like my face? It’s handsome, huh?” I say while resting my fingers under my chin, my eyes pointed up the ceiling and lashes fluttering.

He huffs. “Ugh. Don’t.”

Dropping the playful act, I tell him, “Don’t stop stroking.”

I hear his quick intake of breath before he begins again, always following my orders.

“You listen really well, sailor. I like that.” Taking two of my fingers, I bring them up to my mouth, pushing them back as far as I can and close my lips, sucking them so lewd slurping sounds fill the room.

“Shit,” he hisses while his hand starts moving faster on his cock.

I pull my fingers from my mouth. “You want my mouth? I’ve never sucked your dick before, have I?”

“No,” he whines, his voice cracking around the word while he continues stroking himself.

“That’s a fucking travesty. Choking on your monster cock would be an honor.”

He whimpers, still dragging his hand up and down his erection. I start doing the same, my eyes closing at the first pass over my sensitive head.

“Stop,” I order.

He immediately halts his motions, another desperate whimper coming through my phone’s speaker.

“W-what? What’s wrong?” he says shakily, his dick straining with the need to come.

“Bring the camera closer,” I command. “Show me how wet you are for me, sailor.”

The video zooms in, showing me his perfect slit, wet and shiny with the pre-cum he’s leaking. I bite my bottom lip as he drags his hand up and squeezes right below his head, making another dollop leak out of him, running down over his fist and disappearing into his neatly trimmed hair.

“Fuck, that looks good. I wanna taste that. Will you let me whenever I see you again?”

He groans, moving his fist in earnest again. “God, yes. You can—you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

I jerk my dick to match his quick pace, listening to his ragged breathing and feeling a tingling sensation rapidly building at the base of my spine, telling me I won’t be able to hold on much longer.

“Are you close? Because I—” Another little spurt of pre-cum leaks out of him, temporarily shutting down my brain. “ Ummfff , I love seeing you leak for me, Warren. I’m-I’m about to… oh shit …”

“Say my name again,” he mewls at me, the camera shaking.

I moan, low and husky as I feel myself cresting. “Come for me, Warren. Fuck, Warren. Fuck, Warren. Fuck. Fuuuuck .”

And then my dick ejects ribbons of cum, shooting up and landing all over my abs as I convulse through it. I desperately want to throw my head back and shut my eyes, but I keep them trained on my phone, being gifted with the sight of him coming only a moment later.

“I’m… uhh … I’m coming for you ,” he groans the last word, drawing it out and stroking himself through it. I watch as his cum gushes out in spurts that flow over his shaft, slicking up his hand for the remnants of his orgasm.

Once both of our hands are still, it’s silent. Only the sound of our quiet breathing.

Maybe it’s the postorgasmic glow, but I say exactly what’s on my mind, which may or may not be a mistake.

“I want to see your face.”

Nothing happens for a second, then I hear some shuffling while he wipes his hand on a small towel. Meanwhile, I just wiped my hand on my comforter like a fucking animal.

The camera switches, showing me his flushed face, a slight sheen across his brow that makes him glow.

“Did you have fun, sailor?”

He does a little half-smile, only tipping up the right side of his mouth, before a breathy laugh spills out of him. “I think you can tell.”

I smile back at him. “How long do you have to be there?”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Basically until Sunday afternoon, right up until the end of break.” He’s quiet for another moment. “Family is everything.”

Even though the words come out of his mouth, they sound like someone else’s, something he’s had to repeat a lot in his life.

“Yeah, I guess they are,” I murmur back at him.

“What about you? When do you come back? You’re in the city, right?”

I laugh, tipping my head down for a moment, before flicking my eyes back up at him. “Yeah, I am. It’s nice to be somewhere more modern, where the buildings aren’t so old and the accents aren’t so thick. But I come back on Saturday.”

He gifts me that half-smile again. “It must be hard for you to have to be in Astorville.”

“More than you know,” I answer more solemnly than I mean to.

He stares at me thoughtfully for a moment, and it sends something through me. Something I shouldn’t feel. Something I don’t want.

I clear my throat. “Well, I’ll see you sometime after break.”

He nods his head, sitting up in his bed. “Yeah. See you then.”

I nod back at him and hang up.

VOTE

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