Human Design | Sirius Black

xxxvii. Magic is Essentially a Cult

REECE COULDN'T FOCUS.

Maybe it was simply because it was 07:43 on a Sunday morning and he had gone to sleep barely four hours prior, or (the more likely option) it was the fact that his latest 'company for the night' (Tommy or Theo or was it Andrew?) was currently kneeling between his legs at the edge of the bed at the same time as he was trying to listen to the speech at the other end of the telephone line. 

He was caught between a rock and a hard place or something like that, more like stuck between two good things, because he could either try to hold off until the call was over (which posed a dilemma of its own; if he closed his eyes it would be difficult to focus on anything other than the oral he was receiving but if he kept them open, he'd be left to look at the pornographic images on the ceiling and it went without saying that those weren't a very effective distraction), a hard task so early in the morning, or he could cut the call short and risk coming off as rude and disinterested.

The options were nearly taken away from him when a sound somewhere in the no man's land between a moan and a grunt left his throat before he managed to cover the transmitter, and the clamorous, low-quality speech in the receiver paused mid-sentence. A moment of silence. "Are you okay? You're not busy, are you?" The tone was one of genuine worry, if not insecurity, at the prospect of being a burden.

"No, no, I'm not busy," he told Carlos urgently. Then he pulled the handset away from his ear to firmly suction his left palm over the microphone so that he could whisper firmly, "Stop it! Not when I'm on the phone," though all it earned him was a pointed or perhaps sardonic look, and before he could say anything, Carlos's voice buzzed in the receiver again and he has to press it back to his ear.

"– just that I had a great time on Friday. I was wondering if we could do it again sometime." It wasn't phrased as a direct question but more as a shy suggestion so that rejection would be less hurtful.

"Yeah, brilliant." Reece smiled and then pressed his lips tightly together to seal in the sounds that wanted to leave his throat. "How about tonight?"

There was silence (though silence on the telephone was never real silence, but rather that incessant humming that Reece could certainly do without, organic silence would always be his preference), then a confused, "To-tonight?"

"Unless you're busy, of course."

"No –! No, I'm not busy, I'm just surprised; it's not usually this easy to get a second date. Most guys have commitment issues." There was rattling when Carlos lowered his handset at loud yelling, which he responded to, bellowing something in rapid Spanish. This all happened at a very convenient time for Reece because the moans that poured out of his throat as he climaxed refused to be stifled or swallowed, and he wouldn't have been able to pass them off as a result of anything other than sex. He was still breathing heavily when Carlos returned, and he asked, "Are you sure you're okay?" once again sounding concerned. Reece couldn't get his thoughts into order in order to respond with more than a hum of agreement, but Carlos was in too much of a hurry to press on the matter. "Look, I need to go, mamá's gonna kill me if I make us late for church. I'll call you later?"

"I probably won't be in," he said as Theo or Tommy or whoever stood up and set off picking up his clothes from where they had all been left the night before. "We can just meet outside The Dragonfruit at eight." This wasn't a question nor a suggestion but a statement.

"Yeah, that works." There was a rattle when the handset was pulled away again so that he could yell, "¡Sí, voy!" to some other room of his house and then a rushed, "I really need to go."