Borrowing His Body

Disclaimer: I apologize for not even giving this story the time of day in the past several months. First, I have been more than preoccupied with academic endeavors. Second, I now realize I have toppled more than my fair share of authorial stumbling blocks in reentering this fiction. Thank you for bearing with the last update. I hope this satisfies more fully, though I cannot safely expect it to, as I am quite the green penman. I dispel any pretense here by conceding this really is my first work of fiction/pleasure writing, so please be kind.

Part 5

~Devlin~

The contents of my stomach – merely a piece of toast dressed with butter and honey and a few sloshes of orange juice – swirled freely like a snow flurry. Stationed in the driver's seat of the borrowed automobile, I fidgeted nervously.

Why I couldn't bring myself to enter the house, my home territory, was beyond me. Idle and impotent, I realized I didn't usually experience this brand of physical anxiety, the crippling variety that then glued me to the leather seat. Curious how Jake's body seemed to react in accord with its typified behavioral patterns when presented with key stimuli. Ever intrepid (or at least intending to be), I'd not often experienced such overwhelming unease at the arrival of a socially unmanageable encounter.

I was inordinately contemplative. The night before, I lost an hour to fruitless, neurotic postulation, and when I finally caught the winks I did they were far from fully restful. Though mired in these thoughts and feelings, my mental preoccupation was far more familiar to me than the physical toll the anxiety took on Jake's body. I couldn't comprehend the torturous unease, the painful jolting of my visual memory rapt by the still lingering dream, the jarring lurch of my stomach.

Housed in this beautiful boy's body, enchanted in my dreams by the promise of sex, bound to subconsciously worship the temple in which I'd come to abide...

Hijacking Jake's body for this extended joy ride had a certain superficial comfort, but that was pried away...

My mind floated away from the temple of his golden brow, towering atop his strong neck, the shelf of broad shoulders, and yearned for return. I was detached from myself and from Jake, consumed by cogitation.

Cold irony laughed as I realized I hadn't felt farther from home than I felt now, as I sat in my own driveway. It seemed I hadn't yet braced for the crushing blow of reality till this moment, not last night when scholastic responsibilities called on my attentions, not even before when my ostensibly genetic gift for psychic exchange manifested itself to catapult me from my body and into Jake's. It wasn't until now that I fully came to stare my own misfortune in the face. It unsettled to the core of me.

Heavy, the cloud of my breath fogged the windshield.

I watched it fade for a few seconds before attempting to find resolve. Never having lacked wherewithal nor constitution, I gathered my will about me as a coat of mail. Armored against an angry, assertive Jake trapped in my plucky, hormonally challenged body, I finally opened the car door and stepped out into the cold.

Overcast, the sky boded uncertainty. One of my more puerile attributes, the unwavering correspondence between my mood and the weather tended to prove rather unfortunate for me in my early adolescent years. It was a rare cloudy day when I felt as light on my feet and as optimistic as when the sun grinned down on me, and nothing short of a windfall could pick up my crumpled mood and straighten it out again when it rained heavily.

I stared up at the sky to ask it for answers. Clouds growing heavier shook their heads in concert.

Not good. No, things would not go well today, and I would likely be at fault.

Putting portent aside, I took a few steps towards the house before stopping, looking back at the car, its windshield swimming with dull reflection of the sky.

I sighed, scuffed my feet as I began my sorry march to the porch.

I felt an indescribably irksome tug in my stomach then, a kind of bubbling rage. My shoulders tensed. I dug my foot into the hard ground as I walked, reached the concrete stairs, caught the railing, and landed myself on the porch in one bound.

I stood there breathing more forcibly. The cold air I sucked in washed out my lungs. I hung my head, gritted my teeth.

I was so over the intractable feeling of helpless waffling. Here, no here, no here, no. Where was I meant to be and where had I gone wrong in not being there now? I was done thinking 'well maybe this will work', or 'if only I can trim this here and primp that there so it all comes together for the final finish.'

No.

So utterly done.

I experienced the wash of anger as a lolling beachgoer watches kids skimboard, fail, and tumble off into the sand. Peculiar, unprecedented, uncalled for outright. I felt myself rebel against the unfunny emotions, the flipped switch that clipped the better, intact part of my psyche and tore me at the seams.

I needed to pull it together. Calm and peace and...

I just needed to get inside the damned house.

***************

–Jake–

After I hung up on Dev I threw on the only shorts and a t-shirt I could find in his closet.

I was pacing the room then even though I never fucking paced anywhere ever, and this body had me acting all kinds of weird.

I just couldn't stop thinking about the rush of yesterday, and not just the sexual bit, obviously. It was the star trek, warp-drive, hurdling through space-time back to my body nonsense that had me staggered at the physics-defiance of Devlin's life, just the impossibility of it all...man, it just had me stuck there, steeping in thought.

Not that my inner monologue was typically lacking, or anything. I consider myself to be a perceptive kind of guy. I can be as rough-around-the-edges as any stock jock-type (

not without reason for my own hardened defense in the social jungle of high school

), but I like to think I'm more than that. Really though, maybe I'm not... HAH. Either way my time with Devlin, in Devlin, to be more specific, set off some kind of intellectual itch I just couldn't reach and it bugged the shit out of me. That kind of "oh shit I have to figure this out or I'll be pissed for the rest of the day" itch I get when I forget which character said that

Avatar: The Last Airbender

quote someone just happened to accidentally repeat in conversation. (

Yeah, Avatar: The Last Airbender was my favorite cartoon from middle school and it's nerdy as hell, but so what? It's quality and I'm obsessed.

)

That

kind of annoying itch that required exact itching. Most everyone has to know what I'm talking about here, I know it.

Anyway, so the itch burned hard and I just couldn't scratch it yet. I needed to explore some things with Devlin, that much was cold, hard fact.

I turned to double back across the carpet knowing full well my guesses were an exercise in beyond lost cause but wondering nonetheless...

What is Devlin, even? I haven't really even stopped to think... Is he, like, some kind of X-man?

I asked myself what brand of fiction novel someone threw me into and kept pacing.

Wait, why hasn't this been addressed yet?! Holy shit, Devlin could literally be any kind of sci-fi bullshit and I'm just here waiting on him to come fuck me. Fuck.

But even on that I was unsure.

Wait and what's actually going to happen here. Who's fucking who, and in whose body?

Ugh.

While I couldn't stop thinking about sex with Devlin, I also couldn't compromise my own callous use of Devlin's body, reduced to a sexual play toy. But there were deeper feelings of affection redoubled by the startling pull of chemistry I'd felt with him yesterday.

And why am I such a jerk to him?!

I needed to figure out what was going on, why I felt so off kilter, so distanced from him.

I didn't have time to answer my own questions.

Devlin's disturbing, automated doorbell rang and I jumped so obviously I almost slipped in my socks on the carpet.

Okay, we'll forget it. We'll forget it all, put it aside, run downstairs, and pick up from yesterday outside by the car where he couldn't help but pull me in for a kiss and we will go from there.

Crashed into the door, practically, barreled out of my room, thundered down the stairs.

Shit, here it comes.

A bead of sweat slithered its sorry self down my spine as I pulled Devlin's sack of bones up to its highest height (

obviously

far

less impressive than I was used to, le sigh

).

Okay, deep breaths,

I told myself.

We're gonna sink this.

***************

~Devlin~

The door swung open and out spilled dry heat. I saw what should have been myself standing there – chest puffed uncharacteristically, hips squared straight, rigid arms by my sides – but I didn't look much myself at all. His brows furrowed and eyes dark, I scarcely would have leapt to call the face my own if not for those lips, pale and stretched tight.

My anxiety broke like cheap ceramic on that stern visage. I fought the urge that overthrew my fear, the urge to reach out and wipe the creases from his forehead. After the brusque phone conversation, I offered a truce as I opened my mouth to speak.

"Hi Jake, I apologize for my late arrival. Ablutions delayed me...or, ugh, I took a bit too long in the shower, you know I'm not accustomed to washing this much body." I gestured to all of me. Genial, I faced my palms towards him and splayed my fingers. Open, honest, I looked down, lowered my hands. With them, my defenses. When I looked back up at him, I borrowed the charm I'd seen his face work wonders, and gave my best for a smile.

Resolve in his eyes blinked.

With a sigh like heaving lead, he said, "Ugh, alright man, just get in here before I freeze my balls off."

I stepped inside. So distracted by his spiky posture and harsh body language, I had neglected review of his attire. Jake managed to sleuth out one of very few pairs of athletic shorts I permit in my wardrobe. The short synthetic shorts material covered a quarter of my scrawny thighs. I imagined his balls really must've caught their fair share of the winter air. I took a closer look and realized he'd forgotten his underwear. I saw my own member, shrunken and cowering in the cold, through the mesh.

"I'll say! You aren't really doing my equipment down there any justice, what parading around in the cold like this, commando in my short shorts!" Heh, well I thought it was bracing enough to say.

He rolled his eyes and quipped, "Yeah, but like it's nothing to write home about anyway. Why do you think I want back in my body so bad?"

I laughed, he chuckled, and the empty house chortled back too. Huzzah, off to something of a start.

He stretched his arms behind his head, grabbed his elbows with opposite hands and swung his torso back and forth. Ease took a seat with a swish where defensive, thoughtless anger sat before.

"Wow, yeah, so your house is really fucking empty, Dev. Way too empty."

In attempts to better coordinate my attire with Jake's excessively casual dress and also because the stale heat of my house baked me there under my collar, I struggled out of Jake's smothering parka and stiff winter boots by the door.

"Right, I haven't actually experienced it as such. My parents are always gone, out of the house by the time I wake up each morning, and I suppose you know a bit about how, well, punctilious I can be about school and attendance and such..."

I surveyed the open area of my house as I spoke. Light filtered in from the skylight above the stairs, which lined the left-side wall of the grand foyer. The windows in the living and dining rooms to the right and left, respectively, were of the same operative design to maximize illumination. My house should have been beautiful.

I sighed deeply and returned my gaze to Jake just as I finished my spiel.

He gawked at me.

"What?!"

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing, you're just ridiculous, Devlin!"

"What, I..."

"Oh don't pretend you don't know what I mean. Can you cut the walking dictionary act with me!? We're trying to accomplish some heavy shit here...it's...it's not going to be easy, so, you can at least let it be real with me."

He crumpled in on himself and I knew then he went through it to the same degree I had. Socks swishing on the hard wood, I glided towards him.

"Yeah, um," he gulped, "so just, worry less about that bullshit, okay? For our sake here in this psychic cluster-fuck!" He spat that at me, and then, almost imperceptibly, withdrew from my bold encroachment.

I ventured another step towards him, and though it was no conscious fault of mine, what with having

inadvertently

catalyzed our switch, I towered over him. I noticed then that I wielded the body I borrowed from him against him, weaponized my movements, physically commandeered our verbal exchange.

Unhesitating, I caught him right below the shoulder. He started at my grip, but I insisted and drew him closer to me. First, he stared at my tensed, veiny hand on the wire I called an arm in my body. Second, he drew in his breath. Third, he bit his lower lip and looked up at me with purpose glittering in those green eyes.

I met his gaze with set jaw and heavy brow. I smirked.

I could scarcely explain my dominant, forcible behavior. Perhaps, seizing opportunity, last night's dream stole into the disaster of my mind and permanently affected my behavior, leaking Jake's personality's residue all over the ruins of my once cultured, orderly mindscape.

I stood over him. The allure of that brilliant green glint swept over me. I sought to capture it like the priceless gem it was. Loosening my hold, I intentionally exhaled into his face, an effort of self-control, though playful nonetheless.

I chuckled softly. He cocked his head and squinted at me.

"Hey, what the fuck's so funny, Dev?!"

I couldn't remember him calling me Dev before today. Hearing him borrow my voice to speak my preferred nickname recalled our predicament.

Pieces of me went slipping away into Jake...

Like in this one nouveaux-retro, 8-bit video game I played a while back, a sharp 180-degree rotation revealed the new camera angle on us. Developments, made seemingly in our sleep, overhung. Now if only I couldn't negotiate my way to the top of them.

While apart from Jake, I felt settled and right in his body. If my dream wasn't telltale proof of this...

I jumped from my speculative musings back into the moment. "Nothing," I said as I raised my other hand to his face.

He started again, saying wait. So there it hovered, my hand. My chest rumbled again with laughter.

I forgot all resonance of doom, all mercurial itching. My being trained on his.

"Hey, hey!"

"What, Jake?! Just calm down!" Now I stroked his cheek then flicked several strands of my tended locks from his face. They felt greasy, but I swallowed indignation and the urge to upbraid him for his poor upkeep.

"I'm just admiring what I miss greeting in the mirror each morning. Not that your face is some kind of consolation prize to me. Believe me, I agree with your former assessment. Fate's dealt me the better hand by far."

"Ha, you're so right." He shifted his weight to one hip with the small triumph of his sass. "But...anyway..." His word trailed off.

His hesitancy proffered before me, the prized quarry of some hunt I'd since forgotten, I gloated over him and approached his face far too closely with mine, then quickly cupped the nape of his neck with my playful, free hand.

I opened lidded eyes to bore into him. He dazed. Thinking him in need of fresher shock, I swiftly dipped to kiss him. The side of my face pressed his softly. I kissed his cheek, inches from those frail lips.

I breathed hot there, toying with the temptation to torture him, kiss those tiny ears of his, play with his hair. I knew how it drove me in that body to wits end; I wondered if he'd experience the same trigger reaction because my body relished the act of its own accord or if his own affinities would overrule.

I slid my hand up into his hair, less greasy than I thought and impossibly smooth.

That's when I heard it: an audible whimper, a little cry for release. Simply impossible, Jake locked into the role I always hoped to play for him.

Affording him reprieve, I asked, "Jake, you okay?" as I stood, slightly hunched over, my torso still half a foot or so from full contact with his lithe figure, face on his, breathing heavily and sweetly. His reaction was my delight.

"Mmm." A moan now? Pliant in my hands? No, suppliant before them.

I pressed harder into his cheek, rotated slightly, kissed him again, sucked his skin a bit. A carefully intrusive step forward. I released my hand and slid it down the back of his shoulder and his arm, trailed down to the small of his back. I reeled him in, just barely not leaving him breathless.

Yesterday's connection flashed through my brain. Jake's cock, already aching, swelled hard. I closed the space between his torso and the protrusive bulge.

"Jake, let's go to my bedroom," I whispered in his ear.

***************

–Jake–

Damn, Devlin played me like a fiddle and I screeched out any note he asked for, painful with urges, man, so many urges. If a few minutes ago as I paced his bedroom floor I thought all I wanted was to finally return to my body, now all I could think of was climbing it. I think I misunderstood the feeling before and what I really wanted was to be near Devlin, to be back in his presence, just to feel him as me and me as him. I couldn't understand it, but I tried on a few different explanations for size (

if I remember correctly, I mean the whole thing was such a psychological free-for-all who really knows

) and this one fit best.

I followed him up the carpeted stairs to his bedroom. He was lighter on his feet than I ever was, and I guess in his tiny body I walked the same.

Swing, he opened the door; swoosh, I closed it again; click, I fixed the lock; plop, we landed on his tough bed.

There we were: alone, afraid, on the edge of his bed exchanging glances. With the door locked, secure against a world unaware anyway. Me on his left, him on my right.

I fidgeted to get comfortable and ended up folding one of my scrawny legs up pretzel-style under my bony butt. (

Gawd I was missing those sculpted cheeks of mine that I'd just watched sashay up the stairs, if for nothing else the ergonomics of 'em

). Devlin sat with both feet on the ground and his torso angled my way.

"So..." I said.

He sat there, head inclined down a bit, smiling at me gently and kind of stupidly. "So is right...what now, Jake? What now?"

He leaned back to prop himself up on his two arms, extended out straight, with his palms stretched out on the bed. I saw his fingers move. He gripped and scrunched the comforter.

Is he nervous? Oh fuck I hope that awkward thing with sex doesn't happen when you choose relocate and the new space just sucks up all heat from the action before...

I knew this happened, all too frequently with my ex...

That was different, though, right?

I didn't fully grasp my hesitation. I'd waited for this for so long. I couldn't imagine this happening with any other guy. Devlin was right for the job, but in this current state? In my body? Could I indulge my self-center to the point where I let him, in my body, fuck me in his? Questions like these flew through my head as I watched him fidget on.

The support of his arms collapsed. He fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"You know, I cannot rightly explain what came over me this morning. One moment I stood steaming up your bathroom with your shower, making exceedingly good use of my imagination and your crazy

sexy

body remembering a dream from last night. Then the next thing I knew, I sat sweating profusely in your car ready to vomit and punch your face in at the same time." He chuckled a bit, but it was dry. "And I mean the face you have now...so...my face, and I'm quite glad it didn't come to that! I intend to make a variety of uses of that face of mine, both before and after I switch back to my body," he said as he smiled cheekily.