Here you'll find

 

Into the Light

 

 

 

 

17. I Get a Kick

Feels kind of crazy to be awake at this hour. The sun is still only rising, its rays come down slanted and there's dew on bushes and plants, on the iron gates of parks and gardens, on the ground. The air is cool to breathe, it almost bites my throat and makes me grin.

There aren't many people around. An old man is sweeping the paved walk leading to his front door. A few people are already headed to work, even though the majority of shops and offices won't open until a couple of hours later. A man is walking briskly towards the port area, followed by another, uniformed one with a pushcart - a chef and his helper on their way to the fish market, a few blocks away still. We can smell it, and the gulls and other seabirds make sure that we also hear it.

I glance at Rashim by my side, he notices it and smiles to me. "Beach or hills?" he mouths.

"Beach," I suggest. Rashim nods and we cross the street, go down a little alley, and then we're there. Even this early it's a wise thing to look out when crossing the Beach Boulevard, but right now there's nobody around. The sand hisses under our feet as we stop for a moment to pull of our shoes.

The tide has just gone out, the sand is wet and little sprays of water fly around as we run along the beach. Rashim's ponytail sways rhythmically, left, right, left, right, and I'd gladly drop a little behind just to watch him run. But he doesn't like that, he always slows down and asks if we're going too fast after all. I tell him that we don't and then we trot again side by side.

I love his bare legs and arms, the pulse I can see on his throat if I look closely enough, the way his lips part as he breathes through his mouth. And I'm running beside him, in step with him, still hardly comprehending this.

I'm marveling at the fact that I'm here, in a very public place, wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, not minding that anybody can see me sweating, running, looking undignified, face red, hair in disarray. Not minding that I look just like anyone else.

I'm also marveling at the fact that I'm capable of this in the first place. That I'm capable of actually running more than two blocks without dropping dead, let alone all of five miles at one go. Sure my body is telling me that this is Work, with capital letters, but I'm not listening very closely because I already know that I can do this.

And I'm marveling at the gorgeous thing sprinting next to me. His face is shining as he runs effortlessly onwards, every now and then glancing at me. I smile to him and he nods. He's keeping a steady pace, I'm sure it's clearly slower than it would be if he were alone, but at least we're running all the way now.

I'm tremendously proud of myself. It's not long since we still had to walk part of the way, but now we're actually running. We - that includes me. What's more, I'm enjoying this - the effort, the experience, the euphoria that follows. I'm the last person who would've expected anything like this to happen, ever, and it makes me dizzy. What's going to happen next? Will I develop some supernatural powers or something? Although, come to think of it, a few months back running half a mile without stopping did seem nothing short of supernatural.

We put our shoes back on, climb back to the pavement and jog the last few hundred yards to Rashim's place. It's small, just one room with a little corner stove for cooking and a tiny bathroom, but that's enough. What more do we need? We have good time to wash and change before the rehearsals. I'll be going too, to watch them and then stretch with them afterwards.

Rashim doesn't really have a bed, just a thick mattress on the floor. The bedcovers are in a rumpled heap, and I can still smell sex in the room even though we left the window ajar. I ignore the stab of pain at the thought. No use thinking about it, thinking about when, and if at all. Just don't think about it.

"Oof!" Something collides with me just as I'm pulling the shirt over my head. That something is nude and warm and a bit sweaty, it has wiry arms that wrap tightly around my waist. In my surprise I manage to get momentarily entangled with the goddamn shirt, and even worse when first the sharp tip of a tongue pokes into my navel, and then lips clamp around it and suck. I shake the shirt loose from my arms and grab him, not looking how and where. "Rashim, you imp!"

His eyes glitter up at me, but they widen oh so innocently. "What?" he mouths, lips still on my stomach, dropping on his knees in front of me, hands rubbing hard the muscles of my lower back. Ohh baby, that feels good... but please, don't remind me again of what I can't do. I dig my fingers into his shoulders and massage them none too gently. Front teeth graze my skin.

"Rashim!" I growl and attack him. He laughs aloud as we topple on the bed and I wrestle him underneath me. I almost want to hurt him and yet not. I want him. All of my body wants him but my stupid cock is not up to its task. I hate it, I hate my body, a lump rises into my throat and I choke on it. Breathing hurts.

"You want it bad?" I whisper into the back of Rashim's neck, bite him a little, and he moans. I must be hurting him, I'm holding him so tight, but he squirms and just pushes closer.

"You want it very bad?" Good gods but he's hard. I gnaw and bite and lick his shoulders and neck, oh how his ass grinds against me as I take his cock in my hand and begin to stroke, and I want him so insanely much. But I don't want to hurt. Not Rashim. Not him.

My other hand fumbles for the oil he has on that little shelf next to the bed, I nearly upend the bottle in my haste, and then I'm already fucking him hard with my fingers. He loves it, Rashim my baby, and when I find his sweet spot I sure know it - his whole body arches with a loud gasp so that his head nearly knocks against mine. "There, baby... you like it rough?"

Oh yes, he likes it rough right now, just like he liked it gentle and slow last night, when I teased him and dangled him on the edge for a little eternity. He tries to push back into my fingers and forward into my hand at the same time, I rub and stroke him on the inside, make his whole body shudder. His fingers dig into the sheets, he tenses, every muscle clenching, I kiss his neck hard and he sobs out my name when he comes into my hand.

I press my forehead against his head and just listen to his panting, eyes squeezed shut. A hand creeps to tangle fingers into my hair, Rashim turns his head a little and we kiss. His breathing is ragged, his eyes wet. Oh gods. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he sighs, wiggles a bit. "No you didn't. I feel totally incredible." Slippery like an eel now, he turns around and pulls me in for a kiss, arms wrapping tight. "I just wish I could make you feel even half this good," he whispers. "I'm sorry. Sorry that I'm so greedy." His thumb brushes gently something moist from just below my eye. Just sweat, surely. "You should tell me no."

"Why would I?" I don't understand you, Rashim baby. Why the hell would I deny you this pleasure?

"It makes you feel bad, when you can't get any," he sighs. "I'm so goddamn sorry for being such a - a slut..." His voice trails off, the mere word hurts him, because that's something he definitely is not. What's wrong? Was I too rough after all?

"You're not a slut," I say forcefully and turn his face towards me, cupping his cheek with my palm. "You're wonderful, you're straightforward, you're natural. You are real, Rashim, and don't you start being sorry for that!"

"But I still feel guilty," he insists. Ah, at least the stubborn little frown reappears, and now I think I understand at least a little better. "I shouldn't be - like this. I should be more considerate."

"Like hell you should!" I nib his throat quickly. "I want you to be just the way you are."

"Don't you understand?" Rashim gasps as I lick his neck just below the ear. "I - oww! - don't want to make you feel bad! I love you!"

My breath catches completely, I can only swallow and look into his eyes. For a moment he stops laughing and just bites his lip, like a frightened deer, then chuckles even though it sounds a bit forced. "Toni... let's go get dressed now, shall we?"

Then his eyes fly open wide and he begins to struggle up for real. "Fuck... shit... the rehearsals! We're going to be late, and Rith will skin me!"

I let him go and stumble on my feet as well, swallowing the turmoil of emotions inside me. I'll have time to think about it during the rehearsals; right now it's of infinitely greater importance to get our asses to the spot without any further delay. Rashim is in and out of the bathroom in a flash, and I'm not much slower. He grabs a bottle of pressed juice from the cupboard on our way out, and then we do some more jogging.

Even though we reach the school in record time, we still are about five minutes late. I can see from Rashim's slightly hunched shoulders that he's preparing for a scolding. Rehearsal times are so limited anyway, not a minute of them to be wasted.

But when we enter the room, we can feel that something's wrong. The people are doing the gentler warm-up with which they always begin, but instead of the usual enthusiasm they look dejected. My heart lurches inexplicably. Surely this can't be our fault?

"What's happened?" Rashim asks immediately, head snapping around to see if anybody's missing. "Look, I'm sorry that I'm late..."

"It's all right," Rith says. Rith says? Who is that woman, and what has she done to the real Rith?

"What the hell is wrong?" It slips out before I even fully realize I'm speaking.

"Nothing much." Rith looks tired. "I just heard yesterday that we'll only have this place at our disposal for two more weeks. After that we can't really afford it any more. They've decided to raise the rent."

"Oh shit." Rashim sinks slowly to sit on the floor.

I quietly assume my spot in one corner as Rith begins to work the dancers. She lacks the usual gusto, and so do they, but she hardly comments. And I hardly listen, because this has been one really weird morning and I have quite a few things to think over.

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