Kindred Spirits

Kindred Spirits

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Jordan Castillo Price

Kindred Spirits by Jordan Castillo Price

©2008 by Jordan Castillo Price. All rights reserved.

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Kindred Spirits

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Jordan Castillo Price

Kindred Spirits by Jordan Castillo Price “Have you met my brother John?” asked Jennifer. That’s what Adam thought she said, anyway. It was hard to tell over the blare of the stereo and the rise and fall of voices as people talked and laughed and told each other outrageous lies that were meant to titillate and impress. “I’m Adam,” he shouted over the thudding bass. “Pleased to meet you.” John offered his hand, and Adam shook it. John smiled at the overlong sleeve covering Adam’s palm. He was at least a dozen years older, and fairly traditional in a cashmere sweater and wool slacks. If he wasn’t the spitting dark-haired, dark-eyed image of his sister, he’d look completely out of place in her loft. “You remember I told you about John—he’s visiting from Saint Louis,” Jennifer hollered, but Adam hardly heard her, and not only because of the noise. Adam was busy listening to his soul. John? Adam wasn’t sure. Jennifer told him lots of things. Adam just nodded. Two weeks ago, he hadn’t even realized his soul could speak. Most people don’t. But Adam had stopped in at a psychic fair—not because he normally believed in that kind of stuff, but mostly on a whim. An aura reading led to a phone consultation, which led to an afternoon workshop, which led to a week-long seminar. And now, here he was, eager to translate what his sixth sense was telling him. In a world full of static, even the cheapest of radios could hone in on just one signal; it was simply a matter of fiddling with the dial. Adam knew he was much more sensitive than a radio. He just needed to tune in to the proper channel. “…and it looks like we’re almost out of vodka. I need to go talk someone Kindred Spirits

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into making a run to the liquor store. Keep John company for me, would you?” Adam nodded and felt Jennifer leave without seeing it. Something in his connection with John seemed to intensify without her presence there to dilute it. Adam focused on his breathing for a few beats and then said something from his inner self. “I sense you’re a very spiritual person.” John raised his eyebrows and hid a shy smile behind his wine glass. He had the same Mediterranean looks as Jennifer, same prominent eyes and heavy, beautifully shaped eyebrows. Adam had always envied Jennifer’s eyelashes, but her brother’s were twice as thick, long and black. He was beefier than she was, and taller up close than he’d seemed from a distance. He stooped just a bit, as if he wished he didn’t take up quite so much space. “I’m flattered that you think so,” he said, once he’d swallowed his wine. “I can sense things. I’m a very sensitive person. Not sensitive in the way that most people mean: crying at the movies and getting mad over every little thing. I mean intuitive.” “Ah,” said John. Then he drank another swallow of wine. “So, tell me about yourself.” “There’s not a lot to tell….” Adam could hardly hear him. No wonder John hadn’t seemed very impressed by Adam’s obvious sixth-sensory talent, with Adam having to practically scream his observations in John’s ear. Adam leaned in closer. He felt a flutter in his chest as he did so—over the heart chakra, he’d learned—and he decided the feeling deserved some validation. “John, can we go somewhere quiet so that we can actually talk?”

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John hesitated for a moment. Adam wondered if maybe his perceptions had been wrong. John could be straight. Adam looked at his left hand. No ring. Well, not married at least. Jennifer had said she thought that one of her brothers was gay, hadn’t she? Adam couldn’t remember the specifics. Jennifer had so many brothers that he couldn’t quite recall which one was supposed to be queer. John turned toward the front door and motioned with his head. Adam felt a rush of excitement. No, he hadn’t been wrong. John was interested. Adam followed John into the hall. The din of the party cut immediately as the heavy steel door shut, but Adam’s eardrums felt like they’d been numbed by the music. The hallway was industrial, with cement floors and exposed ductwork. Adam guessed it was meant to look chic, but instead it felt cold and somewhat dirty. “We can sit in the stairwell,” said John. He smiled, and oh, Adam was taken aback by the sheer magnetism of that shy smile. “It only smells like urine on the first floor.” Adam followed him, drawn forward as if a silver cord had fastened onto his solar plexus and was dragging him along. This man was special. Maybe it wasn’t just chance that had brought Adam to one of Jennifer’s typical parties. Just as it hadn’t been chance that brought him to that psychic fair. John held the door open for Adam, then took a few steps down and seated himself on the concrete landing. The stair risers were concrete too, with bright blue rubberized caps on the ends. The railings were metal pipes painted egg-yolk yellow. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and dozens of cigarette butts lay in the crack where the wall met the landing. “What do you think?” asked Adam. “Of what?” “What I said back there. About you being spiritual. I’m a very good judge Kindred Spirits

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of people.” John rested his elbows on his knees and held his wine glass in both hands. He nodded slowly. “I suppose you could say so.” Adam sat down beside John. His new jeans looked stiff compared to John’s simple wool slacks. “Most people don’t see that in themselves, not right away. It wasn’t long ago that I saw myself as just a body.” His eyes dropped to the vee of John’s collar as he said it. A few black hairs curled over the top of his dark brown sweater. Adam imagined himself peeling up the sweater and seeing for himself the pattern of that hair’s growth, the way it swirled over John’s chest, formed a line down the center of his abdomen. Exposing that line of hair under the navel that led down into his waistband. “So you aren’t?” asked John. Adam tore his gaze away from John’s waistband and met his eyes. “What?” “You’re not just a body?” he said. He had a good voice, soft, a bit deep. He smiled that smile of his as he said it. Maybe he was kidding around, but he didn’t seem to be mocking. That was good. The last man Adam had tried to explain things to had told him he could take that Hare Krishna bullshit and shove it up his ass sideways. Adam slid closer to John. Their thighs touched. “Do you believe in souls?” said Adam. “I do. Very much.” “This is going to sound a little strange, but my soul speaks to me.” “I don’t find anything strange about that.” “I knew it. I knew you’d understand.” Adam’s hand went to his heart chakra. He pressed the cuff of his finger-length T-shirt sleeve against his Kindred Spirits

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chest. “There’s something special about you. That’s what my soul is telling me.” John looked down into his wine. His dark eyelashes were so long they cast shadows onto his cheeks, which had colored under Adam’s scrutiny. Adam moved even closer, pressing his shoulder to John’s. “Let me do a reading on you.” John glanced at Adam sideways. Oh, he was handsome. A bit older than Adam usually went for, probably mid-thirties, but with eyes like that, who really cared? “And what does a reading entail?” “Give me your hand.” Adam peeled one of John’s hands away from his wine glass and held it in his lap, palm up. He grazed John’s palm with his fingertips. It was cool, and dry. John had strong hands, but smooth and well kept. “Do you read palms?” “Oh, no. I don’t need props like that, tarot, tea leaves, palmistry. I’m not afraid to tap directly into the deeper place that my knowledge comes from.” He traced the mounds at the base of John’s fingers and felt John shiver against him. He closed his eyes and drew on the wavelength they shared. “I feel that you’re lonely,” said Adam. “Really.” People often weren’t ready to hear such things about themselves. Adam realized he’d better tread carefully or he might lose John. He stroked John’s palm and looked more deeply into himself for guidance. “It’s not something you think about all the time. You’re really into your work. That takes up all your time and energy and creativity. But sometimes, like tonight, when you’re watching people all around you hook up, you want that for yourself, too.” Adam raised John’s hand and brushed his lips over the palm. Kindred Spirits

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“No, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t….” “Wait. I’m not done.” Adam cradled John’s hand against his cheek and sighed. “There’s someone else. And you love him, you do. But that spark just isn’t there anymore.” Adam turned toward John, reached out mirror him and touch his cheek. John didn’t take his hand back when Adam let go. “You’re totally hot, John. I can remind you where that spark lives.” Adam leaned forward and drew John’s face toward him. There was some resistance, and then, as their faces grew close enough for their auras to mingle, John surrendered. He closed his eyes, lowered those incredible dark eyelashes of his, and tilted his face to fit his lips against Adam’s. Adam pressed his tongue in, felt John gasp against it. John’s hand moved toward his hair, tangling his fingers in it, drawing Adam’s face closer. His tongue was as shy as his smile. It tasted of wine. His breathing picked up fast—he was easy to turn on. Maybe he had a thing for younger men, or maybe he was a closet exhibitionist. Adam’s soul wasn’t giving him any specifics on John’s personal hot buttons. Whatever the case, Adam was happy to play the part of John’s wet dream. As Adam’s tongue slid over John’s, the sound of breaking glass made them both jump. John’s wineglass had taken slipped down the stairwell and shattered on the risers below. He glanced over his shoulder and gave a nervous laugh, then turned back toward Adam and leaned in for another kiss. Adam slid his hand underneath the sweater to explore those whorls of dark, coarse hair. John’s breath hissed over Adam’s damp lips as Adam touched him. Adam followed the hair higher, over the ribs, until his fingers found John’s nipple. John grunted. Adam liked the sound. He rolled John’s nipple gently between his fingertips and made John moan out loud. “Touch me,” said Adam, squeezing John’s nipple harder. “Really…I shouldn’t.”

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“Don’t worry, no one ever takes the stairs. And I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Adam trailed kisses over John’s jaw, worked his way back to John’s ear. He slid his tongue inside, traced the shape of John’s earlobe, and felt John shiver against him. John’s nipple was stiff. It probably wasn’t the only thing. “Please,” Adam whispered against John’s ear. “Touch me. I’m so hot for you.” John let go of Adam’s cheek and dropped his hand onto Adam’s knee, as if he needed to gather his courage and work his way up. Adam turned his face and stole another kiss, this one deeper, wetter than the first. John’s hand moved higher, kneading his thigh. Adam pressed his hips toward John, urging him to keep going. He rolled John’s nipple, over and over, until John panted into his mouth. Adam felt John’s hand tremble as it covered his cock. He figured John must’ve been in one of those long-term relationships where guys get so used to each other that they go weeks and months without sex. He liked the idea of that. John might peak fast, but he’d probably come really hard, too. “C’mon,” he murmured into John’s mouth. “Pump it.” John’s fingers closed around Adam’s cock, as much as they could through the stiff new denim. Adam arched his back and pressed his cock into John’s hand. It wasn’t enough. Adam needed to feel him, skin on skin. He pulled back from John just enough to unzip his jeans. “You too,” he prompted. “Let me touch you.” John looked dazed and his hands were shaking visibly. Maybe he was so conservative that he’d never had an affair. “It’s no big deal,” said Adam. “Being with me doesn’t mean you love him any less. This is just the way it’s meant to be with the two of us. I live here and you live in Saint Louis. Kindred Spirits

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But it was our fate to meet each other, to touch each others’ lives. Some connections are brief, but that doesn’t make them any less meaningful.” Adam guided John’s hand to his hard cock, folded his fingers around John’s, and together they set a rhythm, up and down. Adam unbuckled John’s belt, undid the fly with his other hand. He eased the zipper down and slipped his fingers inside, his sleeve bunching up on his wrist. John’s breath hissed in. Adam’s fingertips found the waistband of John’s briefs, then delved deeper, to the steamy heat of his cock. It was thick, and rock hard. Adam fit his fingers around it, slid them to the tip. The slit was damp, sticky with precome. John moaned. The thought of how easy it was to turn him on got Adam just as hot. “I wanna suck your dick,” said Adam, pulling back so he could stretch out on the landing. “C’mon, let’s suck each other.” Adam thought that John might not do it. After all, he had those nice clothes on, and the stairwell was kind of raunchy. John stared for a minute, and swallowed so hard that Adam could see his Adam’s apple jump, several times. But then he closed his eyes for a moment, opened them back up, and knelt on the landing. John slipped into place along Adam’s body, his head on a blue rubber edge of the down stairs, his feet curled against the stairs that led to the roof. Adam felt John’s mouth close over him, taking him all at once. So hot. He flexed his hips, felt his cock press into the back of John’s throat. He pumped John’s cock in his hand. It was thick and veined, and totally ready for him. That’s what Adam loved in a cock. Something stiff, that you didn’t have to coax into performing after too many shots of Jager, too much crystal. He wrapped his lips around the cockhead, tasted the salt of John’s precome. Kindred Spirits

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“My God,” John said, kind of, around Adam’s cock. John’s hips bucked. His cock was too much to take all at once. Adam licked it up and down, wetting it with his spit, then continued pumping it in his hand. He fastened his mouth over the tip and sucked, milking salty drops from the slit as he jerked it off. John writhed against Adam’s wet fist. His body hummed with pent-up energy, and his hands couldn’t stop moving, raking the backs of Adam’s thighs, kneading his ass, fingers burrowing deep to brush against Adam’s balls. He kept moaning, and Adam felt the sound vibrating along his shaft. John threw his whole self into sucking Adam’s cock, and Adam’s body responded by letting everything surge down to his groin. He pulled his mouth off John’s cock. “I’m close,” he warned, and even though it seemed like they’d hardly gotten started, it was true. He swallowed John’s cockhead again, deeper this time, making a ring with his thumb and forefinger that he slid up and down John’s thick, hot shaft while he sucked. His mouth was crammed so full of cock that he could hardly breathe, and John was sucking him so hard, so deep, both hands clenching his ass as if John could stuff Adam all the way down his throat. Adam felt himself start to peak, and it shocked him, so fast, and yet so right. He tried to pull back, to shoot his load on the stairs, but John held him hard, let Adam’s come shoot right down his throat. Adam’s head spun. This guy was drinking his jiz. So fucking hot. His hips rocked into John’s face and he felt a noise escape him, muffled by John’s cockhead. John squeezed Adam’s ass hard, hard enough to leave fingermarks, and barked out a rough cry, his voice thick with semen. John’s cock exploded in Adam’s mouth. Hot, sticky come coated Adam’s throat, the back of his tongue. Bitter, salty, even sweet, Adam struggled to swallow, though he’d never successfully done it, had always spit it out. Their meeting had the feel of something preordained, and though they Kindred Spirits

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were from two different worlds, Adam could take this, John’s essence, and make it part of himself. He swallowed convulsively, and swallowed again, and John’s cock slipped from his mouth, still pulsing, glistening with saliva and jiz. Adam’s mouth felt bruised. He lay his head on the concrete, dazed, and swallowed again at the thickness in his throat. His whole body buzzed from his orgasm. John stroked his thighs, but he hardly felt it. He’d been blindsided by this attraction that had hit him hard and fast, left him no time at all to get his bearings, to even think what he was doing. Becky, the seminar leader, had told Adam that his experiences would start to intensify once he opened himself up to his soul, but he’d never realized it would feel this good. John let go of Adam’s ass, sat up and straightened out his sweater. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry? No, no, don’t say that.” Adam scrambled to his knees, pulled John against him. He could smell his own jiz on John’s breath. “We might not know each other, but our souls connected at a much deeper level.” John pulled back and fastened his slacks. Gray cigarette ash frosted the dark wool. “I’m...glad you see it that way.” Adam hugged John. He could tell from the stiffness in his shoulders that John felt uncomfortable. Probably some misdirected and totally unnecessary guilt about his lover in Saint Louis. “That felt so good,” he whispered in John’s ear. “How could it be wrong?” John hugged Adam back, squeezed once, and then pulled away. “I’m going out for some air,” he said. Adam sensed that he wasn’t invited. He brushed off his clothes and flicked a cigarette butt out of a crease in his jeans as he watched John’s dark hair loop once around the stairwell and then disappear beyond a yellow-painted pipe and a set of concrete steps. John’s footKindred Spirits

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steps kept going, two more flights, crunching through the broken wineglass at the bottom, and then there was the sound of a heavy door opening, and closing with an echo. Becky had given Adam an affirmation just that morning: I bow to the reflection of my higher self that I see in your soul. He’d repeated it only a few times, and look at how it panned out. He’d stumbled across a kindred spirit that very night, someone who didn’t mock him for being a spiritual person. Maybe there really was someone out there who was worth more than a quick hookup. Maybe Adam should start looking at older guys. Or maybe...maybe John would decide he needed to move, to be closer to his younger sister. Adam stood on wobbly legs and opened the landing door. Music from Jennifer’s party thudded in the background. A cluster of kids stood near the elevators, talking and laughing. He recognized a few of them from various parties and clubs. Normally he’d join them, crack a few jokes, tag along to a bar or back to someone’s apartment, where he’d drink too much, do his best to have sex without throwing up on anyone’s futon, and make his way home in the morning with a headache splitting his skull open. But tonight, Adam decided not to do that. He opened the door to Jennifer’s loft and went to her bedroom in search of his jacket. He’d decided to sleep in his own bed. He was squeezing by a couple of frat boys who couldn’t figure out how to make a beer bong when someone snagged his arm and yelled something in his general direction. He turned. It was Jennifer. “What?” he yelled back. “My brother.” “What about him?” Jennifer pushed Adam toward her bedroom, which was good, since that was where he’d been trying to go in the first place. When you listen to your Kindred Spirits

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soul, he thought, the world responds. “Where’s my brother?” she said, once she’d closed the door behind her. The music outside was loud enough that she still had to raise her voice, but at least Adam could hear her now. “He went for a walk.” “Is that all?” She arched an eyebrow. Did she know? Adam looked down at himself. He’d brushed off all the cigarette ash. So what was Jennifer getting at? He resolved to be the soul of discretion. “I have no idea what you mean.” “Oh, come on,” she said, punching him in the arm. He did his best not to wince, and slipped into his jacket. “You know. The way you’ve been going on, and on, and on about that New Age stuff all week? I’ll bet you turned him off with all your auras and chakras and stuff and the two of you ended up hating each other.” “Not at all,” said Adam. He couldn’t help but feel just a little bit smug. “I think John is a very spiritual person.” “Well, duh. That’s kind of a prerequisite for being a priest.” Jennifer turned without looking at him, bent toward her vanity mirror, and re-applied her sparkle lip gloss with a few deft strokes. Adam swallowed, and swallowed again. He could still taste John’s come on the back of his tongue. -end-

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