Fool's Errand

I remember the world before, bright, clean, full of potential. Things felt whole then, like everything had its place, all cogs in the machine working at their full potential like they were built for it. Who knows, maybe they were. I'm not sure what changed all that, it felt like waking up from a dream only to learn that all the wonderful things you'd been living were gone. Maybe never existed.

He wasn't like that. He didn't remember before; he remembered all the dark grit of now. I guess that made me the idealist and him the realist, but really, he had some of that too. Whether it'd come from being around me or if it had been there all along, I can't say. We'd not been romantic at first. Sure, we'd flirt, but what friends don't? And then the more I learned of his past, what he remembered, I realized I'd been in love with him all along. My passive comments became more overt, his roguish smirks became devious grins.

"Tell me." He said as we walked on a broken slab of what had once been a road. I looked over at him as he lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before passing it to me. "What made you pick up and wander around with me?"

I considered this; I'd been wandering before I met him. It felt like I'd been searching for something, maybe a hint that the world I remembered was still around somewhere, under all the trash and rubble. I'd found something else, but it felt almost better?

"I think you've got that backwards." I replied, passing the cigarette back, exhaling through my teeth, streams of smoke. He hopped down from an errant end of road, and offered me his hand to help me down. I accepted it, smirking at him as I landed. He looked away to exhale a long puff of smoke.

"Then why me I guess?" He said softly, his voice was deep and rough and dragged across my skin like rocks, but I wanted to bury myself in the sensation.

"Why you? Getting sentimental in your old age?" I laughed. He offered me a weak smile, he was being serious. "Why you..." I pondered a moment. We'd never been the type to talk about these things, I wasn't sure how to phrase it. "Why? Well, I guess it has to be how you make me feel." I said tapping his shoulder to ask for the cigarette back.

"Feel?" He looked at me as we came to a stop under a long dead streetlamp. I inhaled deeply, unsure if it was to prolong the silence or if it was for the burn of nicotine in my throat. I handed it back, watching the cherry tip bob in the failing light.

"Safe. Happy. Content. I guess you make me feel like the world hasn't all gone to shit if there's people like you still in it." I shrugged and resumed walking.

"People like me?" He was smiling now, like a child being praised and I wanted to make a snarky comment but resisted. This moment of intimacy was fleeting, and I knew if I gave in to the urge it would flit away.

"Idealist? Optimist? Maybe that makes us both fools." I shrugged. "Or romantics."

"You make me a fool." He dropped the spent cigarette on the ground and ground it out under the toe of his boot, watching the smoke fail as the stick died against the earth.

"What does that make me then?" I was staring at him, waiting for him to continue it.

"A fool's errand." He looked up at me and I smirked, moving in, leaning against him. His arms snaked around my waist as he waited for me to act.

"How long have we been teasing each other to fall on a line like that?" We both laughed, freely, joyously, utterly ideally. He took my hand and led me to a house, clearly having planned this walk and this route and this rendezvous. There was a bed and candles and a bottle of wine. Neither of us liked wine but it was part of the aesthetic, I guess.

"For tonight, just us." He smiled, watching me as I sat on the bed.

"Ç'est romantique." I flopped back and felt his fingers on my ankle, shimmying my boots off. He dropped them on the floor, moving to my pants. His hands were slow, gentle, massaging each new patch of revealed skin. Next, my top, his hands hesitated.

"Are you sure you want this?" His voice was small, not the rapscallion I'd come to love.

"I want you." I grabbed him and pulled him against me on the bed. He made a surprised oof, as I began pushing his clothes off, keeping my lips tightly against his. He felt my urgency, and allowed me to disrobe him with a small smile. We broke to get my top off, his hands seemed all too eager to consume my flesh, wanting to touch every part of me, to keep it tightly against him, to pull and massage and see where to touch to earn soft noises.

I pushed him back, climbing over him and delving down, cascading kisses down his jawline, down his collar bone, down his chest, across his taught and panting stomach, over his pelvis to my goal. I sucked the head of his cock into my mouth, not waiting for him, just diving deeper and deeper. His moans were delicious, and his hands moved to tangle in my hair. I thought ruefully that I should've brushed it more. I cupped his balls with my free hand, moving the other to the base to pump what my mouth was not suctioning on.

"Stop or I'll..." His voice was strained, his hands were pulling, his cock swelled in my mouth and I gave it an extra suck. He exploded, and I swallowed every drop, sitting back to lick my lips.

"Is this how you expected the night to go?" I teased lightly.

"No." He said in a weak voice.

"Well, the errand isn't over, fool, get on your knees."