The Dove Keeper (Frerard)

Chapter Seventeen / Beauty and Freedom

Once I was able to open my mind to Gerard, now that we were naked and exposed, I began to notice all the other things he was trying to teach me. It seemed like all of the actions he did had some other meaning to them; something rooted deeper than face value, something to be interpreted like art. And though I knew that I was supposed to be making those interpretations, I couldn't help but be distracted most of the time. I would be sitting and listening to him talk at the kitchen table, and then randomly zone out. I'd look off to the side and just think. It was an action so necessary and so foreign at the same time; it began to feel like I was relearning to live all over again. As if I was a newborn with fresh eyes and a sponge-like mind that could take in everything I needed, and clean off all the dirt I had accumulated before.

I couldn't believe I was at his house. I couldn't believe I was going to be there until Monday – and that it was still only Saturday afternoon. Gerard and I essentially had so much time on our hands, even if he would never let me see a clock. The main fact that took centre stage in my mind of impossibilities unleashed was that we had had sex. And that I was still naked from it all.

Being naked all the time really took some getting used to. It was weird feeling myself just hang out there with no support. I never liked to be constricted when I did wear clothing; I bought boxers and the loosest pants I could find, but the breathing space I gave to my skin between fabric was so much different than what was thrust upon me wearing only myself. It was almost as if I had been suffocated before, but with the removal of clothing that had been a gag, my skin really could breathe again – and now it was sucking up all the oxygen it could get.

I felt light and ethereal at times, then weighed down and clammy the next. I became aware of how my skin folded, something I was normally (and happily) blind to. I never realized that the slight pudge I was used to feeling as I slipped on my jeans creased as much as it did. It made me feel fat at first, and I tried to wrap my arms around myself to hide my flaws. That was, until I saw the exact same markings on Gerard. His skin rolled and bunched together just like mine did. His was even worse in a way; he was older, and the skin had less elasticity. He sagged at some parts, like his thighs and legs, but it didn't turn me off. It didn't turn me on that much either, but it did something far better.

It made me feel comfortable with my own body. I had flaws, I could see them and feel them now, but fuck, so did he. Only he didn't care about his flaws. He sat down and talked, not caring that if he hunched at a certain angle, more rolls would become visible. He didn't care about his wrinkles, or the sagging skin he had in some places. He just accepted it – flaunted it. It was amazing, empowering, and I unwrapped my arms from around my sides, exposing myself like he was. He smiled at me and continued talking, shifting his weight to the most unflattering position and just not caring about it. I couldn't do that just yet, but I was getting there.

It wasn't only when I was sitting down that I would notice the difference in my body. When I stood up and walked, everything felt like it was falling down. I didn't have the thick barrier of cloth, or even anything like a backpack to carry. I was just carrying myself, and that impossible to describe. I would walk odd at some points, totally thrown off by the new rhythm I seemed to have. I looked down as I walked, but had to stop that when all I could see was my cock moving haphazardly. I tried to avoid moving at all for the most part, but Gerard seemed to like switching the locales where we talked. There weren't many places we could go in the small apartment, but he was determined to cover them all.

I had to walk with my head up, looking around to avoid watching my cock dangle in front of me, but even that felt like a new and unmarked territory. I always walked looking down; it was just what I did. When I walked to his apartment, I just didn't want to see the gray and drab streets of Jersey, nor did I want to see people in my high school all that much either when I ventured there. Now that I was forced to look up, it was a completely new experience, budding from a previous one. With my head up and my clothing off, I had a new skip to my step, something I couldn't place right away.

"It's confidence," Gerard informed me, placing a hand on my back as he led me to the bench by the window. "Pretty strange, isn't it?"

I nodded vigorously as I looked at him; really looked at him. It was the first time I had actually seen eye to eye with him on a literal standpoint. I was short for my age and there had always been a small gap in between our statures. As I looked into his olive eyes, however, there was no gap - no nothing. We were on the same playing field; both naked, both exposed, and now, both confident.

We went to the window and sat down together, both of us unashamed and unabashed by our bodies. We were both men after all, we had the same parts, but we still appreciated the small differences. Gerard always held me in some form or another, either a hand on my knee, thigh, or in my own as he talked, and it made me feel more connected to the conversation, even if I did zone out every once in awhile.

Gerard talked a lot, I noticed, trying to derive meaning from the smallest things. We stared at a vase for over an hour at one point, and I had only been startled back into reality by his lips against mine. That was pretty much how I was always brought back into reality; an embrace from Gerard. His hands would roam into my inner thighs, his lips would press on my neck, or his tongue would hover in and out of my ear. He had to touch me so I knew I was still there. And though everything was sexual for Gerard, his embraces were not always sexual invites. It took me awhile to learn that, too.

We were on his ugly orange couch sitting and conversing, Gerard explaining some painting technique to me that I had never heard of. While his lips fluttered between the exotic words, his hand had oh-so casually slipped over my knee, and began to make its way further up, never quite reaching my cock. He stopped about halfway, just resting his palm on my skin and twirling his thumb softly, as his other hand motioned wildly, continuing his story. I was still sitting awkwardly, adjusting to the feel of the fabric on my ass when he did the simple action. My scattered (and hormone-filled) mind totally misread the situation and I dived forward, placing my lips against his and my tongue in his mouth. I shifted over and placed myself in his lap, responding to what I thought had been a proposal. Gerard and I had not had sex since the night before, though we had been close enough, and naked enough to proceed for many hours now. Sex still scared me, even if I had already engaged in the action, but I wanted to try it again. The feel of confidence running through my body and his trusting embraces gave me enough courage to lean forward into his proposal and make the first move into the desired event.

Gerard kissed me back at first, though startled, but eventually broke away the embrace, his palm pushing my chest forward gently.

"What are you doing?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with an innocent smile. He seemed to be pleased that I was suddenly showing an abundance of affection for him. He knew it was there; he just couldn't place why it had come out all of a sudden.

"I thought you wanted to...you know..." I looked down at our tangled legs and laps, and saw that out of the two of us, I was the only one getting excited. My face fell and started to blush beet red when I realized my mistake. I mumbled something through my raw lips and shifted back over to my spot on the couch, turning away from him. I wrapped my arms around my bare chest again, concealing myself.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," Gerard countered, instantly placing a hand on my shoulder. He turned me towards him again, and began to subtly pry my arms away from my body, and place them around his instead. I met his warm and open eyes, head tilted downwards.

"I still liked the kiss," he whispered sensually. His eyes traced down my face once, before he spoke again. "I just don't want to have sex right now."

He smiled as his hair fell down from his eyes, but his gesture, no matter how kind and compassionate, did nothing for me. I was still slightly confused (and really horny).

"But you were...?" I trailed the question off, finishing it by pointing at his hand now making its way back to my inner thigh, just not as close.

"I can't touch you?" he asked smoothly, his voice so low and clear it was like water rushing over my body. He moved his hand up further, massaging the area slightly as my blood churned. Both of us closed our eyes into a deep breath, even if I wasn't touching him back. He continued, eyes still closed, "Everything doesn't lead to sex, but everything is sexual."

"Huh?" I broke the sensual appeal with my gawking gaze, trying to ignore the heat radiating between my legs.

Gerard chuckled a bit, still loving the fact that even if he had taken my virginity and was sitting naked on the couch with me, I was still so inexperienced.

"Everything is sexual," he repeated, flipping his raven locks back and talking with the same hand after. "Everything has a will and want for passion in their life. Everyone wants to live. In order to live, we must procreate. We need this passion, this raw energy in order for that to happen." He turned away from me with a sly grin and locked eyes with a lamp, minus its shade. "Even inanimate objects are sexual. They remind us of what we want to see in things. We see what we desire, what we crave. We give our own interpretations to things even if we don't see that we're doing it." He turned his gaze back to me, the grin continuously growing on his cherub face. He brought the hand he was speaking with forward, brushing my cheek sensually, extending his point. I didn't turn into the embrace, not yet, at least.

"Okay..." I said, not really getting it, like most of Gerard's theories. But that always happened; I never got them when I first heard them. He may as well be talking to me in a foreign language. Once he gave me time to adjust however and a few examples, I understood. Or could at least fake it for awhile.

"What do you see when you look at that lamp?" Gerard cut into my thoughts, answering my dilemma. He motioned to the light, the bulb a dirty yellow colour from its ember inside burning long and bright. Its base was long and cylindrical, standing up straight.

I looked from the lamp and back to Gerard a few times, biting my lip afraid to say my answer. Gerard said everything was sexual... and well, that lamp looked like a cock. When I finally released my lips from my teeth, spilling my thoughts (and apparently my cravings) to him, all he did was laugh. A deep belly laugh that was not directed at me, but felt like it all the same.

"That's what you desire at this moment in time," he smiled and chuckled again, rolling his eyes and hair out of his face. I blushed, red veins creeping like spiders' legs across my face. In between spurts of his laughter, I swallowed my pride and raised my chin high, challenging him.

"What do you see then?"

He stopped laughing, took a deep breath, and exchanged glances between the two objects he was set out to study; me and that fucking lamp. He let his face rest in his palm, clucking his tongue in thought as his breath became shallow. Finally and more serious than I had ever seen him, he answered, "I see life. The light at the top, though dirty and repugnant still serves a purpose. Though the lamp is ugly, broken, and missing pieces, we still turn it on because we want what it offers. I see life." He took a deep breath again and turned his full attention towards me. "I want life. I crave it now."

"Didn't you always crave it before?" I asked him, feeling slightly intimidated by his stares and brain power.

"I want this life," he stated seriously, eyes probing deeper inside of me than he had the night before.

He clasped my hand in his own, squeezing our skin together. He leaned forward, never breaking eye contact, even through his thin lids when he closed his eyes and placed a small kiss on my lips. I tried to dive my tongue into his mouth, but he pulled away and grabbed me into a hug instead. Not a sexual grinding hug; just a hug. A wrapping of old and new tainted flesh into one person. I felt his fingers curl and uncurl against my hot skin, and I could feel him breathing me in – not just breathing on me, but breathing me in as a person into his lungs. He wanted me. He saw life in the lamp that I saw a cock in, and I was what he desired. Our desires were different at that time, but we wanted the same essential thing.

And then I understood.

Everything was sexual; it reminded us of our cravings, our needs, our wants. But everything wasn't sexual in the juvenile way. Gerard wasn't giggling at stuff that looked like a dick, and he wasn't making sexual innuendoes whenever possible. He was making philosophies whenever possible. And he was sticking by them. When he touched me and tasted me only for those split seconds, he wasn't craving sex. We had done something sexual an hour earlier. He just wanted to touch me, to be with me, and make sure I was still there. He wanted to remind himself of the life he loved, and the life he wanted at that very moment. There was something more intimate than sex in his actions. He was appreciating me with all of his senses, smelling my hair and running his hand through it as he pulled me into his lap to deepen the hug. But we would not have sex, even though I could feel him start to get hard as our hug and kiss intensified. We wouldn't fuck on the living room floor. We didn't need to then.

I draped my arms around his shoulders, pulling my face into the crook of his neck. I placed soft kisses there, my tongue staying in my mouth. I started to breathe him in more and more, just like he did with me. I started to do the same actions he had been doing all along, masking his viewpoint over my previous one. And when I looked at that lamp, I no longer saw a cock. I saw life; a life with Gerard who I could and would hug – but that was going to be it. At least, for right then.

Everything was sexual, I told myself, smiling into his flesh. But it was possible to touch without sex itself.