Ethan broke up with his boyfriend. Or his boyfriend broke up with him. It didn’t matter. Of course it matters, Ethan thought, standing in the security line at the airport. I broke up with him. It was the right thing. Ethan sent his carry-on through the scanner. He’d only packed for the long weekend.
The arguing had started too soon. “I just don’t know how this long-distance thing is going to work,” one of them had said. Or maybe it was both of them. The break up was too easily agreed upon. And, no, that didn’t make the heartbreak any easier.
Ethan cut the visit short. He changed his flight to this god-awful redeye, middle seat, twenty-b. Back to the new city, the new job, new adventures. Fuck, he shook his head. Who are you kidding? Ethan was too busy for adventures. It was too soon to tell if the job had been a good move. And the new city was as loud and busy as the old one.
He fumbled past business class. Ethan had lost his upgrade when he switched flights. “Sorry, that’s me in the middle,” he said to Twenty-C. She got up, bleary-eyed. It looked like she had already been sleeping. “Thanks,” Ethan said as he slid his bag into the overhead and shuffled past her.
“Hey,” Twenty-A said, window seat, curly blond hair. He might have been twenty-five. He might have been thirty-five. That age range was so hard to nail down.
Yeah, you’re hot, Ethan thought. But he just said, “hey,” back.
Twenty-A dragged his backpack out from under the seat in front of Ethan. “I was hoping your seat was gonna stay open.” He laughed.
“Yeah, sorry,” Ethan said. “Full flight.”
“No worries.” Twenty-A shoved the backpack under the seat in front of him where it belonged. “Glad it’s you, for sure. Could have been worse.” Twenty-A laughed again. He pulled his right leg up and let his knee rest under the window.
Ethan wasn’t sure what he saw at first. Holy fuck. But then he just stared. “Um,” Ethan said and forced himself to look away.
Twenty-A’s cock and balls were hanging halfway out of his shorts. No one in the line of passengers streaming by seemed to notice.
“Um,” Ethan said again, with a chuckle. Twenty-A looked at him. Ethan glanced down at Twenty-A’s junk and back up.
“Oh,” Twenty-A said flatly. “Haha.” He set his shorts right. “More comfortable this way.” Twenty-A winked. “Right?”
“Right, yeah.” Ethan smiled. “Yeah.”
There’s a rhythm to flying. The taxi. The safety video. The takeoff. Drink service.
Twenty-C, the lady on the aisle, slept through all of it.
Twenty-A whipped out two drink vouchers, ordered a bourbon and ginger ale. “What do you want?” He nudged Ethan’s arm.
“Oh, um,” Ethan mumbled. “Same as you, I guess. Thanks.”
Twenty-A lowered Ethan’s tray table for both drinks. He left his up, reclined his seat, adjusted his shorts. “Here’s to a fun flight,” he said and raised his little plastic cup.
Ethan drank. The flight attendants turned off the cabin lights. Ethan turned off his video monitor.
“Good idea,” Twenty-A said. “Do hers too.” He gestured to the sleeping woman.
Ethan drank some more. He thought sleep might take him. Twenty-A drank, shifted in his seat. The captain turned off the seatbelt sign. Besides the constant roar of the engines, the plane went quiet. Ethan emptied his cup, reclined, closed his eyes.
A hand touched his. Ethan lay still. A hand grasped his, fingers curling under his palm. Ethan returned a gentle squeeze. A hand lifted his. Ethan glanced to his right. Twenty-A guided Ethan’s hand. Ethan followed. It landed on his seat-mate’s warm, rigid cock.
Ethan pulled back, looked over. It was too dark to see Twenty-A’s lap, or that he’d pulled down his shorts. Ethan could barely make out the smile, or the man’s eyes looking back. Ethan set his hand on the armrest. No one spoke. A minute passed. The plane trembled, then settled.
Ethan’s hand wandered back to Twenty-A. He found the thigh and rested there. He found the scrotum. The balls rolled heavy on the seat. Twenty-A leaned back. Ethan found the towering dick again. His fingers barely met around it. The stiff cock extended far above and below his fist.
Ethan looked straight ahead. He pumped. Ethan looked out at the empty aisle. He dry stroked Twenty-A’s penis. Ethan glanced at the sleeping woman in the seat to his left. He found a bead of pre-cum and worked it over the shaft in the seat to his right.
Twenty-A lolled his head toward Ethan, feigning sleep.
Ethan paused. He spit in his palm. He regained his target. This is insane, he thought. But he kept jacking off the stranger next to him.
Twenty-A sat up. Ethan startled. No one was coming. Twenty-A fumbled in the backpack in front of him. Ethan heard a cap open, saw the bottle in a glint of light. The man cupped Ethan’s hand, poured a dollop of lube, set Ethan back to work.
Ethan slid the length of it. Two hand widths plus, he thought. Ethan twisted up and rolled over the head. Twenty-A pulled in a short, quiet gasp. Seven-and-a-half, probably, Ethan mused. He worked down to the thick base. Eight maybe.
The plane shook. The seatbelt sign came on. The captain made the announcement. Ethan lifted the scrotum up, let the balls slip from his hand. He stroked fast, long strokes, off the tip, on to the base. It swelled. I’m gonna make him cum. Ethan did not let up. Every so often he added a turn of his wrist near the tip, medium grip, moderate speed. Consistent but also consistently inconsistent.
The plane rumbled, dipped, and surged. Twenty-A opened his eyes. Ethan smiled, glanced at the woman on the other side. Still sleeping. Twenty-A pumped against Ethan’s hand, meeting his rhythm. Twenty-A tensed, held his breath. His cock bucked. A zip-splash hit Ethan’s seat next to his ear. Twenty-A let out a long sigh. Another rope of cum landed on Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan aimed three more onto Twenty-A’s abdomen. A fountain spilled over Ethan’s grip and down the subsiding cock.
Twenty-A gingerly reached into his bag again. He opened a packet of moist wipes, cleaned Ethan’s hand, offered him another for his seat and shoulder. He stuffed the towelettes in his empty drink glass and fell asleep.
The sun rose. Fight attendants passed with bags for garbage. Seat backs and tray tables returned to their full and upright positions. Twenty-A stared out the window. They landed, taxied, and parked. Everyone stood and waited.
“You live here?” Twenty-A asked.
“Yeah.” Ethan nodded.
Twenty-A passed him a scrap of paper. “Let’s catch up for drinks again sometime.”
Ethan looked at the scrap, a phone number, a name. Danny.
“I’m Ethan.” He extended his hand.
Danny took Ethan’s hand in his own. “It’s a pleasure,” he said.