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It was late, too late. Marvin wanted desperately for the world to end. So maybe everything would become easier on him. He didn’t believe in a God, or several Gods, but he prayed to them this very moment. Please, for all that is good in the world, don’t let this end.
His hand on his sides. His hand in his hair. His lips, caressing his jaw, teasing his skin, making it crawl with desire and lust. His body between, beneath, below his. His smirk when Marvin shuddered. His breath on his stomach as he kissed down it, his breath on his thighs as he bit down. His breath. His smirk. His body. His lips. And, God, those hands.
He couldn’t back down- wouldn’t back down. Marvin knew what he wanted. Marvin knew what he deserved. Marvin wanted. So Marvin got.
First the stall with smells of vomit and sex and moans from breathy men that weren’t as perfect as Whizzer’s breath was. Then came the car, the cab, the subtle touches that made Marvin want more more more more more more more. More. He wanted everything and anything Whizzer had to offer. He wanted those lips on his. He wanted it now.
So finally, the apartment. It smelt like the taller man, hitting him in the face with perfume and fresh air. Modern flair and style. Beautiful. Secretive. Hiding. Perfect. The bedroom was better. Fresh sheets, the window was open; the summer was hot and sticky. But even the son could never compare to how Whizzer made him feel. Warm and tingly and perfect, all the while his lips and hands and body roaming and searching to break Marvin down. But he wouldn’t, of course, break down. He never did.
When it was over, the breeze hit their skin, making them both cringe but smile from relief. The hot stickiness had to be washed of their bodies sometimes. Sooner rather than later for Marvin. It really was getting late.
A flicker of light, a cigarette lit. Marvin was sweating. The world was ending. Yet the sun still dared to come up.
“I had a good time.” One of the first words Marvin ever whispered to Whizzer.
“I know.” He blew the smoke out into the room.
“I have to go.”
Whizzer just got up, naked still, and stared out over the skyline. How someone could look so beautiful and be so destructive to everything Marvin knew, he couldn’t understand.
“So? Go.”
Cruel, yet beautifully simple. Marvin got up, got dressed and ran a hand through his sticky hair. He moved to the door. It wasn’t too late to shower at home before she woke up, he thought. He turned the knob.
“My number’s at my phone. Call me.” Whizzer said, his voice slightly off.
Marvin turned to him and met his eyes. In them, Marvin saw a world of complexity, intelligence, need for care, afraid to want, afraid to be, but daring to ask for something in the most passive way possible. Marvin saw himself right then. Reflected in those gorgeous eyes that seemed to understand the very debts of the world.
As Marvin went home, number in his pocket and exhaustion surrounding his eyes, he realized that the world wasn’t ending, for it really was almost 5 a.m. now. But more importantly, what lingered in his mind was the way Whizzer looked and saw the world. Cigreatte hanging from his lips, his body on show, but hiden partly in shadows of an early morning, and eyes that knew everything. Their might not be Gods, but Marvin met someone that resembled one. So who was Marvin to deny himself the glory of wanting one, desiring one, needing one, praying his name in dark corners late at night, wishing for him to appear?
It was late, really. It was too late to change his religion from family to man. But if one sinned in the dark, no one would ever know. No one would ever know Marvin held the world at night, kissing a God and making him his. Only Marvin and Whizzer. Him and a God at night. Nothing else mattered. Until the sun came up.