Wiederbeleben - 2. First Date

On Saturday morning, I awoke to a strange tingling sensation.

I giggled as my body spasmed. "Hör auf mich zu kitzlen!" (Stop tickling me!)

"Now I know how to torture you," Jan said, as he wrapped his arms around me in a hug. "And before you try to attack me, just know that I'm not ticklish."

"That's unfair! Besides, what are we doing today, anyway?"

"I suppose you're not depressed anymore? Well, I don't know the city very well, and I venture to say that you don't either. What say you to exploring?"

He had guessed correctly that I rarely left the apartment since my mother's death unless I needed to, not that I ever had any reason to.

"What say you?"

"Sorry. Sometimes my mind is stuck in German and when I attempt to translate, my thoughts come out peculiarly."

"Anyways, it's true that I'm a bit of a hermit. But I think we could tour the High Line."

"What's that?"

"The old elevated railroad that was turned into a park last year. It runs parallel to the river, so it won't be so hot."

"I doubt that - you make it hot wherever you go."

"Are you always going to be like that?"

"Don't be so downhearted. I presume that there will be food?"

"How do you manage to stay so thin when you think about food all the time? And yes, we can go to the Chelsea Market afterwards."

"So it's a date?"

I smirked at his cunningness. "Sure, first date. We are boyfriends, after all."

Jan disappeared into his closet and pulled out a white poplin shirt and a pair of mint chinos. I began to ruffle through the bag I brought yesterday, when he remarked, "You clearly lack a taste in fashion."

I suppose he was referring to the fact that none of my clothes fit particularly well. "Hey, it's not like anyone ever took an interest in me anyways."

"I should really take you shopping. I think the British brands would really suit you. For now, I’ll pick for you."

I glared at him. "Is it a fetish of yours to dress me in your clothes?"

"Maybe."

I frowned even more when he withdrew an exact duplicate of his outfit.

"Perhaps we can be more than boyfriends ... twins for the day?"

I reluctantly acquiesced, but only because I had been enveloped by the lingering scents of cologne on the shirt.

We quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs. Marie had been up early and had prepared us breakfast, as always.

"I stopped by the German market on my home yesterday. Have you had Weißwurst before, Théo?"

Indeed, I had not. She had seasoned the white sausages with parsley and lemon, making for a rather hearty meal.

Stuffing an entire sausage in his mouth, Jan grunted, "Lecker, wie immer. Du hast dich selbst wirklich übertroffen!" (Delicious, as always. You've really outdone yourself!)

Like yesterday, we ran by the Metropolitan Museum and across Central Park to 8th avenue, where we took the C train down to 23rd street. I gave Jan an angry stare when he suggested that we run the entire distance.

"What? Soon we'll be running marathons together. Three miles is nothing."

"In your dreams. I would die of dehydration within the first half hour."

The High Line had only opened last year, but I had never had any reason to visit it. Jan and I strolled along the wooden path until 12th street, where we found an unobstructed view of the Hudson. We sat down together on a bench facing the river, and Jan wrapped his arm around me. We sat together for a while, listening to the rush of cars in the background.

"Do your parents know that you're gay?"

Jan smiled. "Of course, I wasn't exactly inconspicuous with my sexual exploration ... namely on the internet. On the shared computer. Now that I think about it, they have probably hinted many times that they wouldn't mind if I brought home a boy instead of a girl."

"I never got to tell my mother ... and I regret that ... but I don't suppose my father even has the time to listen, much less formulate a reaction."

"Don't be so dismal. I'm sure that he cares for you - perhaps he is still mourning?"

"He hasn't spent personal time with me in years, not even before my mother died. You have only just started to remind me the joys of company."

"Which reminds me. You really must make more friends, even if I have to play matchmaker."

"Why? You're all that I need, mon chéri." I purposely accentuated the rolled r.

"Well, I'm flattered, but you need friends of your own. Non-romantic ones that you can share your interests with. As soon as school starts, we're signing up for Crosslauf together. And trust me, everyone is very accepting."

"How would you know?"

"One of my friends, Mats, came out last year. I think you’ll like him."

"Weren't you two attracted to each other?"

"Well, I wasn't sure of my sexual preferences then, and I never actually felt anything for him like I did for you. He’s also from Dortmund ..."

“Und du kommst aus München,” (And you’re from Munich,) I finished. “Das hätte ich nie gedacht. Spielt er Fußball?” (I never would have guessed. Does he play football?)

He grinned. “All Germans are born football champions. It’s as much a religion for us as hockey is for Canadians, and I suppose … wine for you French.”

“You know, we might beat you one day.”

“In your dreams.”

I heard his stomach grumble; I barely suppressed a laugh. He looked cute when he blushed. “Come, are you hungry? It’s nearly noon.”

“Time does pass quickly. What do you fancy?”

He pulled out his phone and quickly browsed Yelp. “Fish and lobster okay?”

“At the Market? I suppose.”

“We better get some for Marie too, since we’re inviting your father tonight.”

I thought back to Marie, and how well her charming smile paired her soft, barely-aged face.

"You don't suppose that your parents suspect ... our love for each other?"

"You don't think that it's blindingly obvious? I think they might be encouraging it."

As we walked through downtown together after lunch, I felt very much like a tourist; even Jan, as it seemed, knew the streets and avenues better than I did. The atmosphere completely changed as we passed through Little Italy and SoHo; the streets grew narrower and the familiar tenement buildings returned. Jan had said he would take me shopping, but instead of to a shopping complex, we strolled down to West Broadway, with rows of stores that were completely foreign to me.

"What are these brands?" I questioned, as we stepped through a glass door marked Reiss London.

"High Street fashion," Jan said, mimicking a British accent. "You wouldn't know - I suppose all of your clothes are from Abercrombie?"

"Isn't that where teenagers usually shop?"

“No, only the especially slutty ones.”

“Hey! You know that I’m still a virgin.”

“And I hope to have the privilege of changing that,” he said, placing a kiss on my cheek.

To distract my erotic thoughts, I quickly glanced at the mannequins, half of which were dressed in black suits.

"Do you plan on taking me to a funeral?"

"No, merely turning you into a runway model, for which you doubtlessly have the body. I'm sure Vogue would be all over you once you exhibit yourself.”

“Ich bin gar nicht so hübsch wie du glaubst.” (I'm not nearly as cute as you think.)

“Sei selbstvertrauend, mein Schatz. (Be self-confident, my sweetheart.) And you don't plan on wearing zebra-themed graphic tees to university, do you? After all, it's only two years away."

"I rather enjoy the childish look."

He lifted me off the ground and into his chest. "I'm afraid that won't work if we plan on marrying anytime soon."

After picking up an armload of clothing, he pulled me into one of the changing rooms near the back.

"Why are you in here with me?"

"So I can see how the clothes fit, as you clearly are unable to judge for yourself ... and savour your body, au naturel. Now be a good boy and hold up your arms."

He kneeled down and slowly unbuttoned my shirt, and pulled it off. I moaned as he began kissing my chest, moving towards my nipples, and slid his hand into my briefs. He slowly slid his hand over my shaft, his motions increasing in frequency. My breathing grew more and more rapid, until he suddenly stopped as he felt ejaculate travelling up my urethra. I gritted my teeth.

"Please, Jan!" I begged.

"Sorry, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until tonight," he teased. "And don't even think about touching it yourself. We can't have a mess here, can we?"

He replaced my briefs and began to unbutton my pants, sliding them off of my legs. He handed me a pair of burgundy chinos to try on. "I'll give you a better present if you're obedient."

Before I even turned to the mirror, he called out, "Too loose." He ran out, and quickly returned with another pair. As I put them on, I quickly felt the sensations in my legs disappearing.

Jan quickly saw my discomfort and smiled. "Didn't you know? Cutting off circulation is all the fad these days."

"And I'm sure your mother would encourage that," I said sarcastically.

"But they highlight your bubble butt so well!" he exclaimed, loudly enough for the attendant to hear. He cupped his hands around them, as if to emphasize his point.

"Schweig, oder wir werden rausgeworfen!" (Shut up, or we'll be kicked out!)

By the time we finished trying out all of the clothes, I was pretty sure Jan's lips had felt my entire body twice over, which did not aid in relieving my sexual arousal. I was anxious to know what he had in mind for the night; it had better be worth the wait.

I noticed that he had just picked up a package of red striped boxer briefs as we approached the sales counter. "What are those for?"

"To highlight your package better," Jan said, grinning. "Extra tight."

When we returned home, we found Marie in the kitchen. She had finished her rounds early to prepare supper.

"Brauchst du Hilfe beim Kochen?" (Do you need help cooking?)

"Wenn du willst." (If you want.) She eyed our purchases. "What did you buy?"

"Striped bass from the Chelsea Market. We ordered it for lunch, and the chef recommended that we buy some since we enjoyed it so much."

"Do you need help preparing it?"

"Yes, that would be nice. I expect we will need to scale and fillet the fish." Jan took out the recipe that was provided from the bag.

While Jan and Marie prepared the fish, sliding it into the oven after searing it skin down, I quickly diced and sautéed the shallots, tomatoes, and jalapeños, and prepared a zucchini purée with a food processor. After plating the filets on the purée, Jan added the vegetables, and squeezed lemon juice over the fish. There was an uncanny resemblance to the dishes we had at lunch.

Markus had left to pick up my father from Newark Airport; when they stepped through the front door, I noticed that my father looked more exhausted than usual. I wonder if the novelty of travel that had attracted him to consulting in the first place had finally worn off.

Jan and I brought in the dishes to the table and sat next to each other, holding each other's hands.

“Hello, father. Everything went well, I presume?”

“Yes, Théo. It’s nice to see you again,” he replied, with the usual curtness in his voice.

When my father removed his coat and sat down at the table, I noticed a hint of agitation in his face.

“Is something the matter?”

“Well ... the company has been very satisfied with my performance, and one of the senior partners has offered me a significant promotion that I cannot reject. I’m afraid I will be relocating permanently to Zürich come October to take on new responsibility, but that also signifies that I will need to sell our apartment here. I’m not certain how that leaves you, Théo.”

I turned to Markus with a pleading look, and he nodded.

“Monsieur Benoît, s’il passe avec vous, nous serons heureux de prendre soin de Théo jusqu'à ce qu'il aille à l'université. Il nous avait dit qu'il voudrait faire ses études avec mon fils. Si vous êtes d'accord, nous pouvons lui inscrire avant le début du terme scolaire.” (Mr. Benoît, if it works with you, we would be happy to take charge of Théo until he goes to university. He has said that he would like to study with my son. If you agree, we can enroll him before the start of the term.)

My father looked at him surprised, both at his generosity and his accent-free French, but he had once told me that many Europeans were polyglots, especially Germans. He turned to me and replied, “If this is what you wish, then it works for me. After all, it's only a six hour flight to Europe and I do not wish to disrupt your schooling here.”

Hearing this, Jan and I were ecstatic. We kissed and embraced, much to the amazement of both men. But to my greater astonishment, I detected the hints of a smile on my father's face. Perhaps he did have sentiments for me? As we ran upstairs after finishing our meals, I overheard Markus saying, “I can see it in their eyes. My wife told me about how they found each other; I wouldn’t be surprised if they marry each other someday.”

As we stepped out of the shower together, the same thought pulsed through both of our minds - we were aching for release.

After we crawled under the covers, Jan whispered, "I think that calls for a celebration, don't you think?" He wrapped his delicate fingers around the shaft of my penis, and immediately I moaned in ecstasy. I was still pent up, waiting for the "present" he had promised hours ago.

He slowly retreated under the covers, and I felt his mouth delicately place a kiss on the tip of my penis. His tongue worked its way all around the shaft, as his mouth slowly engulfed it. I had never felt anything like it before; the warmth and moistness of his tongue provided continual stimulation. He held my knees closely together, and unable to move, my back involuntarily arched backwards as I shot three ... four times into his mouth. I finally slumped back onto the pillow, as Jan slid back up to join me, planting a firm kiss on my mouth and sharing the savouriness and tanginess with me.

"That was worth the wait, wasn't it?"

I need not reply, for I decided to return the favour. After all, we were still twins for the day, and I had yet to thank him for buying me an entire wardrobe of catwalk model clothing. I likewise pulled my lips over my teeth, as he had, and attacked him with more passion and fervor than he had offered me. I pictured myself sucking a sentient lollipop that occasionally cried out in pleasure.

Suddenly, his upper body twitched and I soon felt his juices rush in to fill my mouth; they were warm and even more delectable than mine, with a certain sweetness to the flavour. Swallowing was not nearly as unpalatable as I had made it out to be; in fact, I quite enjoyed it.

"Oh Gott ... so etwas habe ich noch nie gefühlt ..." (Oh god ... I have never felt anything like that before ...)

By now, we were both utterly exhausted. We grasped each other tightly as I laid my head on his bare chest, listening to his fluttering heartbeat and comforted by his warmth. I soon fell asleep, dreaming of what we would do in the future.

Jan’s mother arranged for my enrollment at the German school on Monday. They had notified us that I would need to achieve at the minimum a C1 level of German before enrollment would be considered, and so she had a set of intensive study books from Hueber Verlag, and enlisted Jan, who had established a high academic standing at school, to be my personal Hauslehrer. I had already taken three years of German courses at Dalton, but as one might expect, neither the teachers nor the students were particularly motivated. Our studying turned out to be more of a bonding process than anything else; Jan quickly pointed out any blunders I made, all of which he found to be highly amusing. In return, I reminded him of his disastrous French, which he slowly improved with our amicable mixed-language conversations. We often spent our evenings after dinner cuddling in Jan’s bed, watching a film on his mounted flat screen with two glasses of wine beside us. We both adapted rather well with French wine culture. He introduced me to Das Leben der Anderen, a passionate cold-war film that soon became our favourite movie, while I introduced him to Amélie, a quirky French film I had found among the boxes of my mother’s possessions sitting in the closet. I quickly realized that our sexual explorations were much more enjoyable when both of us were a bit tipsy; perhaps Marie caught on as our supply of wine was always refilled.

Over the next three weeks, Jan often accompanied me to the Goethe Institut in Midtown, which offered a tremendously large library as well as evening talks and film showings. We made quick progress of the workbooks, completing nearly two hundred pages of dense material. I found German to be not nearly daunting as its stereotypical depiction; after a bit of practice, I rapidly caught on to the patterns in sentence structure and word endings. The coordinator, upon reviewing my previous academic record, had extended me an interview at the school, and ultimately offered me an academic scholarship, provided that I continue my advanced education and perform suitably on the Abitur.

I quickly settled into a routine in the household. Our evening displays of love became habitual, and we rarely woke up without one of our arms draped around the other. Marie and I spent most Saturday mornings in the kitchen, meticulously following recipes from a thick yellowed cookbook passed down from her ancestors. Jan and I would then sit for hours in front of the piano, playing Chopin and Stravinsky for each other and occasionally playing one of Rachmaninoff’s duets or singing Bach’s chorales. Even Markus found time to join us in a quick after-supper run down to the Loeb boathouse, where we would sit and watch the ducks float gracefully along the shimmering water. I quickly realized that Marie and Markus were more affectionate than my parents had ever been; together with Jan, who I began to view as a brother, they gradually filled the emptiness in my heart.