Zach finally found him sitting on the bleachers.
At the highest level, far from the ground. Right where the clouds caressed the metal; where the pool, locker room, and schoolyard were tiny and distant. Towering over the school like some holy ghost.
Each step gave a hollow metallic clang as he ascended to him. And while Gentry took notice, he made no effort to move or acknowledge him. He diligently waited until the clangs became louder, slouching with his arms folded over his stomach. In the twilight, the blue metal gleamed weakly.
“Where’s the bracelet?” Zach demanded, breathlessly, positioning himself directly in front of his face. Typical Zach. Either you moved around him or he ran you over. And if you got in his way, well.
“Answer me.”
Gentry looked up, rested his head on one fist and murmured,
“How’d you get out?”
“The window. Don’t change the subject. I want my bracelet, and I’m not leaving until you give it back.”
“Then get comfortable.”
Zach slapped him in the face.
“Don’t fuck with me.”
“A bit late for that.”
“Give me the bracelet.”
Gentry abruptly stood up, tore it off his wrist and threw it over the edge of the bleachers.
“There’s. Your. Bracelet.”
He stormed down the stairs and Zach ran alongside him, “What am I going to tell him!”
“Tell him I tossed it off the edge of the bleachers.”
Zach stopped a few steps behind him, and threw his hands in the air, “What the hell is wrong with you! When I’m found out, so are you.”
“Maybe I don’t care.”
“Then you’re not acting right.”
That’s because I’m not acting.
Gentry sighed and stopped walking, glancing over his shoulder with a pensive look on his face. Yet he didn’t look at him, because he could no longer hide the frustration which hung heavy in his heart.
“I never act right. At least I’m not twinking out over a fucking bracelet. But if it means so damn much to you, know that Mikey won’t think any less of you for cheating; because he doesn’t think about you at all. I tripped over that piece of garbage on the way here. He had his chance to throw me against the door and say how much he loved you. He had the chance to follow me here, to tutor you himself and prove how much he cared for you. He didn’t, and it isn’t because he’s trusting or stupid. It’s because he doesn’t give a fuck. And you know what, neither do I. He wants a nigger to take to the prom, so you go be that. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my way and burn that picture.”
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 34
I know you stole it!
Oh. He had it all right.
Clenched tightly in one damp and sweaty palm.
But he hadn’t stolen it. It wasn’t worth stealing— it was trash that didn’t matter.
…Only it did. For some reason, Zach had a fixation with this piece of garbage. And right now it felt just like holding a part of Mikey in his hand, the little part he could do something about. Crush it— stomp it— burn it.
The bathroom door slammed behind him.
The blue stall door clicked shut.
With the excitement of anger, he threw the bracelet to the ground and stomped onto it until he calmed down. He vaguely heard his own haggard panting over the silence, looking down to eye what was now muddied up against the blue tiles, smoothly woven but coarsely stained. It still wasn’t finished. No, that wasn’t enough. He picked the bracelet up with the tips of his fingers, reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He’d burn that motherfucker. Cremate him early—
But he stopped himself, noticing the sprinkler system right above the stall. Fuck. Of all stalls—
He shot out the door and crashed right into Mikey.
“Gentry.” The other boy deadpanned.
Gentry briefly stumbled back from the impact, but caught himself against the edge of the sink.
“Mikey.” He returned, unsmiling. The bracelet was still clenched in his palm, half-hazardly hidden in plain sight. Despite the racing thoughts coursing through his blood, he sternly reminded himself that there was no problem, and that it would remain that way unless he said otherwise. Mikey had nothing—
Nothing but the strained look on his face.
“I’m surprised you’re still here.” Mikey drawled emptily, “Didn’t swim practice end a few hours ago?”
Gentry gave an affirmative nod, then pushed himself off the sink and turned on the faucet. Water came gushing out, forming neat little drops at the sides of the plexiglass bowl. Slowly he eased his hands under the spray, rubbing them down nice and slow.
“So,” said Mikey, “What’s keeping you?”
“Tutoring.”
Gentry glopped soap on both his palms, and liberally doused water on the bracelet that was now stretched tightly over his wrist. It didn’t matter what Mikey thought, what he saw, or what he didn’t see— Gentry quietly decided he wouldn’t deny a damn thing if asked. There was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing he felt sorry for. Denial had “lie” built into it if you rearranged the letters, and there was nothing to lie about; just like there was nothing he owed him, and nothing he had to say for himself.
“And you?”
“Stayed for a GSA event.”
“Fundraiser?”
“Rape prevention.”
Immediately he felt the rush; some skin-prickling urgency and a sweltering light-headedness; as though the bracelet was burning up against his skin.
He didn’t say anything. Instead he continued to soak and scrub his hands, silently waiting for Mikey to leave. He’d have to, sooner or later. No one waited around forever. Fact was, if you were quiet long enough, most people got bored and left you alone.
So the silence grew until it became a monster all its own… Devouring patience and composure. He could almost smell the irritation in the steam which rose up from the water— boiling hot and heavy. It tempted him to steal a look at Mikey to confirm a new suspicion, but Gentry resisted. There was no fight unless he made one. There was no issue here, no conversation, as long as he didn't answer. And most importantly, there was no hurt unless he asked for it. Besides, Mikey knew better than to get physical: the moment he did he would lose, because there was no way you could win against someone with nothing to lose. And Gentry had nothing to lose, as long as he held on to it tightly. Fact was, the silence was not new to him, and he wasn’t that scared of it. He’d keep it for nine more years if he needed to. He quietly dared Mikey to do the same, and felt a tingle of pleasure when Mikey raised his voice again.
“Today we focused on child molesters.” That condescending drawl wavered up, then sunk into a low whisper, “Makes me sick how some parents destroy their own children. Can you imagine breaking a child like that?”
Gentry turned off the faucet and shook the water from his hands.
“No. I can’t.”
He brushed past him in distaste.
Oh. He had it all right.
Clenched tightly in one damp and sweaty palm.
But he hadn’t stolen it. It wasn’t worth stealing— it was trash that didn’t matter.
…Only it did. For some reason, Zach had a fixation with this piece of garbage. And right now it felt just like holding a part of Mikey in his hand, the little part he could do something about. Crush it— stomp it— burn it.
The bathroom door slammed behind him.
The blue stall door clicked shut.
With the excitement of anger, he threw the bracelet to the ground and stomped onto it until he calmed down. He vaguely heard his own haggard panting over the silence, looking down to eye what was now muddied up against the blue tiles, smoothly woven but coarsely stained. It still wasn’t finished. No, that wasn’t enough. He picked the bracelet up with the tips of his fingers, reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He’d burn that motherfucker. Cremate him early—
But he stopped himself, noticing the sprinkler system right above the stall. Fuck. Of all stalls—
He shot out the door and crashed right into Mikey.
“Gentry.” The other boy deadpanned.
Gentry briefly stumbled back from the impact, but caught himself against the edge of the sink.
“Mikey.” He returned, unsmiling. The bracelet was still clenched in his palm, half-hazardly hidden in plain sight. Despite the racing thoughts coursing through his blood, he sternly reminded himself that there was no problem, and that it would remain that way unless he said otherwise. Mikey had nothing—
Nothing but the strained look on his face.
“I’m surprised you’re still here.” Mikey drawled emptily, “Didn’t swim practice end a few hours ago?”
Gentry gave an affirmative nod, then pushed himself off the sink and turned on the faucet. Water came gushing out, forming neat little drops at the sides of the plexiglass bowl. Slowly he eased his hands under the spray, rubbing them down nice and slow.
“So,” said Mikey, “What’s keeping you?”
“Tutoring.”
Gentry glopped soap on both his palms, and liberally doused water on the bracelet that was now stretched tightly over his wrist. It didn’t matter what Mikey thought, what he saw, or what he didn’t see— Gentry quietly decided he wouldn’t deny a damn thing if asked. There was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing he felt sorry for. Denial had “lie” built into it if you rearranged the letters, and there was nothing to lie about; just like there was nothing he owed him, and nothing he had to say for himself.
“And you?”
“Stayed for a GSA event.”
“Fundraiser?”
“Rape prevention.”
Immediately he felt the rush; some skin-prickling urgency and a sweltering light-headedness; as though the bracelet was burning up against his skin.
He didn’t say anything. Instead he continued to soak and scrub his hands, silently waiting for Mikey to leave. He’d have to, sooner or later. No one waited around forever. Fact was, if you were quiet long enough, most people got bored and left you alone.
So the silence grew until it became a monster all its own… Devouring patience and composure. He could almost smell the irritation in the steam which rose up from the water— boiling hot and heavy. It tempted him to steal a look at Mikey to confirm a new suspicion, but Gentry resisted. There was no fight unless he made one. There was no issue here, no conversation, as long as he didn't answer. And most importantly, there was no hurt unless he asked for it. Besides, Mikey knew better than to get physical: the moment he did he would lose, because there was no way you could win against someone with nothing to lose. And Gentry had nothing to lose, as long as he held on to it tightly. Fact was, the silence was not new to him, and he wasn’t that scared of it. He’d keep it for nine more years if he needed to. He quietly dared Mikey to do the same, and felt a tingle of pleasure when Mikey raised his voice again.
“Today we focused on child molesters.” That condescending drawl wavered up, then sunk into a low whisper, “Makes me sick how some parents destroy their own children. Can you imagine breaking a child like that?”
Gentry turned off the faucet and shook the water from his hands.
“No. I can’t.”
He brushed past him in distaste.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 33
At that moment a string plucked in Zach’s mind… and released an unsteady dissonance. Immediately his head shot up, eyes wide with sudden understanding as he scrambled to his feet and towards the study room door. Locked.
“You bastard—” he yelled, “Open up! I know you stole it!”
Gentry heard him. He’d waited for it.
His hands slowly pushed his body off the librarian’s counter, and his lumbering body started the long tread down the hall, ears listening to how the the pounding pleas steadily weakened the farther he was and the faster his feet moved across the scratchy carpet. Farther and farther away with each step, back turned and eyes fixed forward. The double doors were right in front of him, and he could almost feel the cold metal of the handle in the fist that was slowly curling at his side. Could almost feel the cold air on his face—
“Gentry!”
He stopped. Stopped just long enough to glance over his shoulder and dangle out a set of keys. They clinked together loudly, jingling like bells in the empty library, clanking together with glorious noise. And for a short moment, Zach stopped pulling at the doorhandle and instead looked up to listen. Those wonderful blue eyes gawked at him, just him… for a moment that was just long enough to hurl the keys into the darkest, farthest corner of the library.
“Call your boyfriend.” Gentry said, just loudly enough to reach through the glass to Zach’s gaping expression, “He’ll find them.”
What Zach said afterwards, he didn’t catch, because he turned back around and loudly kicked over the trash can on his way out. As it aimlessly rolled around on the floor, he opened the double doors and quietly slipped out.
“You bastard—” he yelled, “Open up! I know you stole it!”
Gentry heard him. He’d waited for it.
His hands slowly pushed his body off the librarian’s counter, and his lumbering body started the long tread down the hall, ears listening to how the the pounding pleas steadily weakened the farther he was and the faster his feet moved across the scratchy carpet. Farther and farther away with each step, back turned and eyes fixed forward. The double doors were right in front of him, and he could almost feel the cold metal of the handle in the fist that was slowly curling at his side. Could almost feel the cold air on his face—
“Gentry!”
He stopped. Stopped just long enough to glance over his shoulder and dangle out a set of keys. They clinked together loudly, jingling like bells in the empty library, clanking together with glorious noise. And for a short moment, Zach stopped pulling at the doorhandle and instead looked up to listen. Those wonderful blue eyes gawked at him, just him… for a moment that was just long enough to hurl the keys into the darkest, farthest corner of the library.
“Call your boyfriend.” Gentry said, just loudly enough to reach through the glass to Zach’s gaping expression, “He’ll find them.”
What Zach said afterwards, he didn’t catch, because he turned back around and loudly kicked over the trash can on his way out. As it aimlessly rolled around on the floor, he opened the double doors and quietly slipped out.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 32
Note: Yes, the hand-scrape part was difficult for me to describe. Basically, if you lay on your elbows and get pushed hard enough in the upper-chest, there's a chance you can recoil and land on your palms (it's pulling away mid-way. Though you have to be quick and the shove has to be strong.) Casey and Carly are two characters whose actions will directly impact the coming chapter. And as for the bruises... hehe, I'm saving this secret. I hinted some of causes, but I've kept a lot of it secret for now. Thanks so much for the comments!!! They got me through finals :)
He kept his arms rigid, feeling the carpet press into palms. They were still hot, still heated as Zach told him:
“I don’t want him to get suspicious.”
“If he isn’t already, he’s a lousy boyfriend.” Gentry thought to himself, although he didn’t say it. Instead pulled himself up onto his feet and reached for his backpack, limply slinging it over his shoulder as he asked Zach, who was sluggishly pulling himself off the ground:
“What are you looking for?”
“Bracelet. You’ve seen it.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it. Why’s this one so important?”
“It means something to him. He’ll notice if it’s missing.”
“Don’t you already have one?”
“This one’s different.”
“Because that faggot gave it to you?”
“—Because it’s making a statement. We’re going to the prom together— we’ll be first openly gay couple in the history of Kennedy to do that.”
Gentry was silent for a moment, then shrugged,
“I don’t care. But so you know, there can only be one prom queen.”
“I know.”
“Why do you even want to go? What’s the real reason?”
“Same reason you would.”
“To show off how you can throw money around? That you can support the school you said you were boycotting as long as they let fags drop their cash?”
“None of your damn business.” Zach snapped at him, “You’re officially ‘straight’ out of this room. And you’re taking Kylie to the prom, right?”
“Yeah. Why shouldn’t I, you’re taking Mikey.”
Zach exhaled gruffly, “You can’t compare them like that.”
“I just did.”
At this, Zach gave an exasperated sigh and realized this was going nowhere, fast. He turned away and fumble through his things, mostly for the sake of fumbling. As though he were searching for something that couldn’t de described, hazy as a childhood memory but clear as the smell of saltwater. He was annoyed, but not irritable. Just raw enough to answer him, even though the look on Gentry’s face warned him not to. He was interested all right— he’d leave if he weren’t. Zach knew that much, which was why he drawled out with satisfying slowness:
“They’re not the same, Gentry. I’m not dating him to get back at you— I’m dating him because I actually like him. If you liked me bad enough, you would have had me. But it doesn’t matter now. Telling you is a waste of breath; you do what you want no matter what I say or who you step on, and sometimes I think you like it better this way. Probably it really does it for you. You play everyone out, and I've stopped caring why. But you know, humans are pack animals. That means they trust each other enough to have these things called relationships, which they depend on for survival. But Hell! Nothing you do ever makes any sense; you do whatever the hell you want.”
“I—”
“You have your life, I have mine. If you want to be so deep in the closet that you’re tripping over Christmas presents, I won’t stop you. If I want to drag my gay ass to the prom, not your problem. You’re the last person whose opinion I’ll be crying myself to sleep over, because I don’t care about it— It’s not like you would ask me, and even if you did, I’d say no.”
Gentry opened his mother to speak, but Zach went on rambling,
“And save the faggot this faggot that, because whatever you think you are, you’re still as fruity as they come.”
The door clicked shut.
He kept his arms rigid, feeling the carpet press into palms. They were still hot, still heated as Zach told him:
“I don’t want him to get suspicious.”
“If he isn’t already, he’s a lousy boyfriend.” Gentry thought to himself, although he didn’t say it. Instead pulled himself up onto his feet and reached for his backpack, limply slinging it over his shoulder as he asked Zach, who was sluggishly pulling himself off the ground:
“What are you looking for?”
“Bracelet. You’ve seen it.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it. Why’s this one so important?”
“It means something to him. He’ll notice if it’s missing.”
“Don’t you already have one?”
“This one’s different.”
“Because that faggot gave it to you?”
“—Because it’s making a statement. We’re going to the prom together— we’ll be first openly gay couple in the history of Kennedy to do that.”
Gentry was silent for a moment, then shrugged,
“I don’t care. But so you know, there can only be one prom queen.”
“I know.”
“Why do you even want to go? What’s the real reason?”
“Same reason you would.”
“To show off how you can throw money around? That you can support the school you said you were boycotting as long as they let fags drop their cash?”
“None of your damn business.” Zach snapped at him, “You’re officially ‘straight’ out of this room. And you’re taking Kylie to the prom, right?”
“Yeah. Why shouldn’t I, you’re taking Mikey.”
Zach exhaled gruffly, “You can’t compare them like that.”
“I just did.”
At this, Zach gave an exasperated sigh and realized this was going nowhere, fast. He turned away and fumble through his things, mostly for the sake of fumbling. As though he were searching for something that couldn’t de described, hazy as a childhood memory but clear as the smell of saltwater. He was annoyed, but not irritable. Just raw enough to answer him, even though the look on Gentry’s face warned him not to. He was interested all right— he’d leave if he weren’t. Zach knew that much, which was why he drawled out with satisfying slowness:
“They’re not the same, Gentry. I’m not dating him to get back at you— I’m dating him because I actually like him. If you liked me bad enough, you would have had me. But it doesn’t matter now. Telling you is a waste of breath; you do what you want no matter what I say or who you step on, and sometimes I think you like it better this way. Probably it really does it for you. You play everyone out, and I've stopped caring why. But you know, humans are pack animals. That means they trust each other enough to have these things called relationships, which they depend on for survival. But Hell! Nothing you do ever makes any sense; you do whatever the hell you want.”
“I—”
“You have your life, I have mine. If you want to be so deep in the closet that you’re tripping over Christmas presents, I won’t stop you. If I want to drag my gay ass to the prom, not your problem. You’re the last person whose opinion I’ll be crying myself to sleep over, because I don’t care about it— It’s not like you would ask me, and even if you did, I’d say no.”
Gentry opened his mother to speak, but Zach went on rambling,
“And save the faggot this faggot that, because whatever you think you are, you’re still as fruity as they come.”
The door clicked shut.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 31
Well, maybe not. He irritably pulled it over his head, fussing to get his arms through.
Around this time, Mikey crept back into his thoughts, and Zach felt just a little guilty. He swore to himself, as he did every time, that this had gone on long enough. That it was time to end it once and for all.
It sounded good, but then what? Admitting it was complicated enough, but could he… would he… just continue to play house afterwards? Maybe the best thing was to leave both, retreating into a devout break from all entanglements…
As he reverently chewed his way through his guilt the way he always did after sex, Zach was fully aware Gentry was now watching him pull up his jeans and yank down his GSA t-shirt, which he only wore since he believed in The Cause. Studying the way he aligned his watch with his GSA bracelet; thinking if he liked watching him put his clothes on more than he enjoyed taking them off.
“You mind?” Zach murmured, just rudely enough.
“There’s nothing there I haven’t seen before. Gentry shrugged, and with uncharacteristic catty-ness added, “You didn’t mind me looking a few minutes ago.”
Those amber eyes glanced away, unnaturally focused on some crack in the wall. He was in no rush, he never was. He’d leisurely pull his pants back up, and lounge about for a while, basking in the sunset without saying a word.
But Zach had to say something. He always did:
“That condoms remark was really crappy, you know. Even for you. And you don’t even use condoms, so that also makes it hypocritical. Maybe you should start following your own advice. They make nice ones now. Flavored, glow in the dark...” his voice trailed off.
“Either way.” He came back in that oh-so-certain way that Gentry really liked, the kind that was ripe with conviction and just a little outrage,
“It wasn’t funny. You could hurt people with by saying shit like that.”
“Good.”
“You know— the only good thing is that you don’t talk more in public. You can be a real dick sometimes,” Zach replied casually, without glancing up. He had barely finished the last syllable before Gentry pulled him back and wrestled him against the floor.
Zach shoved him back and muttered, “Get off. I need to find something.”
“Look for it later.”
Gentry put a finger to Zach’s lips before a single word was fired, then sat up to eye him wryly with his lean-muscled legs straddled over Zach’s stomach. He loosely cupped that all-too-boyish face, before reaching his hand up to slide a cold metal ruler off the table and into his palm.
“Is this the designated time to feel guilty?” Gentry asked him, moving the ruler under that proud chin and propping it up.
“Go on. Repent.”
“I’m not Catholic, and you’re not a priest.”
“I can be.”
Those blue eyes were really something. Sunken and heavy-lidded, surly and unforgiving. He’d seen them before, but couldn’t remember where. They reminded him of the Saints in the illustrated Bible he’d read many years ago, with their heavy brows and long-suffering gaze. He liked it best when Zach looked at him that way. It made him want to hold him down and fuck him up, remind him just how human he really was— show him he wasn’t any better than anyone else. Fuck him so hard he’d forget his God.
Zach was looking at him now, eyes fixed. Following his feelings the way the tides followed the moon, lapping away at him with that spark of sympathy which never evaporated, a little piece of something that he kept in his heart when the days were long and the nights were cold.
“Your eyes are too beautiful to be glaring at me all day.”
Gentry put down the ruler. He sighed as he eased down onto his elbows, so close he could feel him breathe in.
There were times. God, were there times…
“There’s nothing wrong with this. I already know why you come here,” he whispered into his ear, hot breath grazing against his jawline, “I think about it all day. I watch you when you aren’t looking, waiting until I can be alone with you. Any time spent with you… Zach, that’s what I come here for. You don’t have to— we don’t have to do anything. But close your eyes, and you won’t regret it.”
Zach gave him a strong shove back, and Gentry staggered back to his knees, open palms scraping against blue carpet.
Around this time, Mikey crept back into his thoughts, and Zach felt just a little guilty. He swore to himself, as he did every time, that this had gone on long enough. That it was time to end it once and for all.
It sounded good, but then what? Admitting it was complicated enough, but could he… would he… just continue to play house afterwards? Maybe the best thing was to leave both, retreating into a devout break from all entanglements…
As he reverently chewed his way through his guilt the way he always did after sex, Zach was fully aware Gentry was now watching him pull up his jeans and yank down his GSA t-shirt, which he only wore since he believed in The Cause. Studying the way he aligned his watch with his GSA bracelet; thinking if he liked watching him put his clothes on more than he enjoyed taking them off.
“You mind?” Zach murmured, just rudely enough.
“There’s nothing there I haven’t seen before. Gentry shrugged, and with uncharacteristic catty-ness added, “You didn’t mind me looking a few minutes ago.”
Those amber eyes glanced away, unnaturally focused on some crack in the wall. He was in no rush, he never was. He’d leisurely pull his pants back up, and lounge about for a while, basking in the sunset without saying a word.
But Zach had to say something. He always did:
“That condoms remark was really crappy, you know. Even for you. And you don’t even use condoms, so that also makes it hypocritical. Maybe you should start following your own advice. They make nice ones now. Flavored, glow in the dark...” his voice trailed off.
“Either way.” He came back in that oh-so-certain way that Gentry really liked, the kind that was ripe with conviction and just a little outrage,
“It wasn’t funny. You could hurt people with by saying shit like that.”
“Good.”
“You know— the only good thing is that you don’t talk more in public. You can be a real dick sometimes,” Zach replied casually, without glancing up. He had barely finished the last syllable before Gentry pulled him back and wrestled him against the floor.
Zach shoved him back and muttered, “Get off. I need to find something.”
“Look for it later.”
Gentry put a finger to Zach’s lips before a single word was fired, then sat up to eye him wryly with his lean-muscled legs straddled over Zach’s stomach. He loosely cupped that all-too-boyish face, before reaching his hand up to slide a cold metal ruler off the table and into his palm.
“Is this the designated time to feel guilty?” Gentry asked him, moving the ruler under that proud chin and propping it up.
“Go on. Repent.”
“I’m not Catholic, and you’re not a priest.”
“I can be.”
Those blue eyes were really something. Sunken and heavy-lidded, surly and unforgiving. He’d seen them before, but couldn’t remember where. They reminded him of the Saints in the illustrated Bible he’d read many years ago, with their heavy brows and long-suffering gaze. He liked it best when Zach looked at him that way. It made him want to hold him down and fuck him up, remind him just how human he really was— show him he wasn’t any better than anyone else. Fuck him so hard he’d forget his God.
Zach was looking at him now, eyes fixed. Following his feelings the way the tides followed the moon, lapping away at him with that spark of sympathy which never evaporated, a little piece of something that he kept in his heart when the days were long and the nights were cold.
“Your eyes are too beautiful to be glaring at me all day.”
Gentry put down the ruler. He sighed as he eased down onto his elbows, so close he could feel him breathe in.
There were times. God, were there times…
“There’s nothing wrong with this. I already know why you come here,” he whispered into his ear, hot breath grazing against his jawline, “I think about it all day. I watch you when you aren’t looking, waiting until I can be alone with you. Any time spent with you… Zach, that’s what I come here for. You don’t have to— we don’t have to do anything. But close your eyes, and you won’t regret it.”
Zach gave him a strong shove back, and Gentry staggered back to his knees, open palms scraping against blue carpet.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 30
“Don’t you ever worry about being outed? Exhibition streak aside, you have to admit, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to be a closeted gay exhibitionist. In fact, it doesn’t make any sense at all, it’s like you’re setting yourself up. People are talking about us, you know. What if someone like Sydney might burst in, what would you do?”
Gentry flatly replied, “No one ever has, and no one ever will.”
“He did in the bathroom.”
“This isn’t a bathroom.”
“But they’re already suspicious.”
“They won’t be for much longer.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just am.”
Zach looked away. You just are. Well, good for you.
But that did not sound good. At all. When someone that crazy was that certain, it was probably because he had something planned… and although Zach wanted to pry further, he stopped himself. Nothing good could come out of that, and besides, he wouldn’t have put it past him to have already put something into motion, or at least thought it through. No, that last part wasn’t reassuring at all.
Gentry cast him a wry look, then grinned and kissed at his jawline, “Stop worrying.”
“Whatever you’re planning, it doesn’t sound good.”
“It isn’t.” Gentry stopped for a moment, and thoughtfully added, “But it won’t affect you.”
“That wasn’t what I meant. It’s not about me, it’s about—” Zach sighed, throwing his head back over the seat until he felt blood gush into his forehead.
“You know what, forget it.” He gently pushed him away and added, “It’s your business; play straight or play gay or be a general fruitcake— do what you need to do. You've figured out a good system to avoid getting caught. Sydeny could walk in right now and you'd convince him he didn't know what he saw. And it won’t matter anyway because you’re the only one who can swim the Gauntlet. You’ll get away with it, like you always do. But don’t you ever get tired of it?”
“Tired of what?”
“Of denying yourself?”
“I fuck boys.” Gentry said offishly, “That’s what I do, not what I am. My culture isn’t defined by liking dick… And it’s nobody’s God damn business if I do.”
“Yeah yeah.”
Zach shrugged, then blindly reached for his GSA t-shirt.
Kennedy High GSA: Being Gay is Abnormal— I’m Extra-Ordinary.
He sat back up and shook his head to cast off the dizzy spell, then gawked at the bright blue shirt for a long while before putting it on.
Extra-ordinary…
The letters blurred into view, crisp, clear, and black.
Extra-ordinary…
Gentry flatly replied, “No one ever has, and no one ever will.”
“He did in the bathroom.”
“This isn’t a bathroom.”
“But they’re already suspicious.”
“They won’t be for much longer.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just am.”
Zach looked away. You just are. Well, good for you.
But that did not sound good. At all. When someone that crazy was that certain, it was probably because he had something planned… and although Zach wanted to pry further, he stopped himself. Nothing good could come out of that, and besides, he wouldn’t have put it past him to have already put something into motion, or at least thought it through. No, that last part wasn’t reassuring at all.
Gentry cast him a wry look, then grinned and kissed at his jawline, “Stop worrying.”
“Whatever you’re planning, it doesn’t sound good.”
“It isn’t.” Gentry stopped for a moment, and thoughtfully added, “But it won’t affect you.”
“That wasn’t what I meant. It’s not about me, it’s about—” Zach sighed, throwing his head back over the seat until he felt blood gush into his forehead.
“You know what, forget it.” He gently pushed him away and added, “It’s your business; play straight or play gay or be a general fruitcake— do what you need to do. You've figured out a good system to avoid getting caught. Sydeny could walk in right now and you'd convince him he didn't know what he saw. And it won’t matter anyway because you’re the only one who can swim the Gauntlet. You’ll get away with it, like you always do. But don’t you ever get tired of it?”
“Tired of what?”
“Of denying yourself?”
“I fuck boys.” Gentry said offishly, “That’s what I do, not what I am. My culture isn’t defined by liking dick… And it’s nobody’s God damn business if I do.”
“Yeah yeah.”
Zach shrugged, then blindly reached for his GSA t-shirt.
Kennedy High GSA: Being Gay is Abnormal— I’m Extra-Ordinary.
He sat back up and shook his head to cast off the dizzy spell, then gawked at the bright blue shirt for a long while before putting it on.
Extra-ordinary…
The letters blurred into view, crisp, clear, and black.
Extra-ordinary…
Friday, December 5, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 29
Zach was smiling just a little as he faded back to where he was now, listening to half-whispered words which were just loud enough to rise above the air conditioner.
When had it turned back on?
Mmm, didn’t matter. It was cold…
By now he’d learned to think past the uneasy silence which followed their rushed or not-so-rushed encounters, and presently sat on the table with nothing on his groggy mind except whether or not to hit the bathroom, and how to do so without arousing suspicion. He was surprised when Gentry spoke first,
“I like smelling you.”
Zach cast him a look from accross the room, because really, what could you say to something like that? Gentry looked back, then shrugged aimlessly; as if he didn’t know why he had said it either. He returned to shuffling about the room, picking up pieces of discarded clothing. Zach eyed the "evidence" on the table, and peevishly wiped some of it off "Wuthering Heights." Gross.
“Doesn’t it ever disturb you that people are going to be using this table after us?” he awkwardly grumbled, to which Gentry replied:
“It didn’t disturb you a few minutes ago.”
Zach sighed since the conversation was going nowhere fast, and tiredly began the search for his left sock.
“I have a bed, you know. It might be nice not to worry about people coming in.”
“Except your mom.”
Zach stalled.
Well.
Gentry held up the sock, and Zach snatched it away.
When had it turned back on?
Mmm, didn’t matter. It was cold…
By now he’d learned to think past the uneasy silence which followed their rushed or not-so-rushed encounters, and presently sat on the table with nothing on his groggy mind except whether or not to hit the bathroom, and how to do so without arousing suspicion. He was surprised when Gentry spoke first,
“I like smelling you.”
Zach cast him a look from accross the room, because really, what could you say to something like that? Gentry looked back, then shrugged aimlessly; as if he didn’t know why he had said it either. He returned to shuffling about the room, picking up pieces of discarded clothing. Zach eyed the "evidence" on the table, and peevishly wiped some of it off "Wuthering Heights." Gross.
“Doesn’t it ever disturb you that people are going to be using this table after us?” he awkwardly grumbled, to which Gentry replied:
“It didn’t disturb you a few minutes ago.”
Zach sighed since the conversation was going nowhere fast, and tiredly began the search for his left sock.
“I have a bed, you know. It might be nice not to worry about people coming in.”
“Except your mom.”
Zach stalled.
Well.
Gentry held up the sock, and Zach snatched it away.
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 28
Note: A "headfuck" is someone who enjoys toying with peoples' thoughts, motivations, and feelings. Thanks for all the comments :)!!
“Do you know what a headfuck is, Gentry?”
“No.”
"Well, you are one.”
Zach’s gaze drifted towards the pencil sharpener. Against the smooth, sharp metal edges which easily caught the fading sunlight, glimmering brightly enough to catch his interest for a few minutes. In the background he vaguely heard Gentry say “Hasn’t stopped you yet,” and briskly replied,
“Yeah, it hasn’t.”
It was still hot enough that he half-expected the metal to melt before his eyes, scalding as a pile of hot liquid goo. He lazily inched his fingertips towards the sharpener, then suddenly darted for Gentry’s hand. The hot skin pressed against his own as he intertwined their fingers and tugged him forward, just suddenly enough to make him stumble. Gentry caught his balance easily enough, then tried to tug his hand back. Once, twice.
Gently at first, as if brushing it off as a joke.
Oh, but it was no joke. Zach was watched him with carefully concealed amusement.
And finally Gentry was pulling so roughly that Zach’s arm was shaking along with him, prompting Zach to goad him, “You can fuck, but you can’t hold hands?”
“I can do whatever I want.”
“Well,” said Zach, “Don’t you want to?”
"...Sure."
He stopped talking, and started staring; first at Zach, then at some spot on the wall. But not too intensely, just casually. As if his skin wasn’t scalding into Zach’s, as if he hadn’t tried to pull away, and as though that hand-holding was an everyday kind of thing. And it was, really, because this wasn’t important unless he said so. There was no issue unless he made it an issue, and it wasn’t as if he was from Mars and had never held hands with anyone before. He’d held his mother’s on the way to the library until it became uncool to. He’d held hands with that one girl in the first grade, after everyone dared him to. He’d held his own the first time he burnt it on the stove, and then every time after that. He’d held Zach’s hand when he pulled him into the locker room, but this, admittedly, was different. He just wasn’t sure how to explain it, preferring instead to wallow in awkward silence, grim-faced and tight-lipped.
Zach watched him smugly for a while longer, until Gentry scowled and again tried to wrench his hand away; in spite of the redness which still burned in the tips of his ears— something Zach noted with no-longer-concealed amusement because, oh no, he was not letting him go now. Instead, he intertwined their fingers together and pulled him so close that he could feel his hot breathe ghost against his jaw.
“Let go.”
It was a warning… one Zach discarded as he slid one hand around his neck, drew him close, and kissed him. The piercing stung against his skin because once, just once, Gentry didn’t have the time to plan how he’d move his mouth around it. Just once he didn’t have the ability to suppress the soft moan in the back of his throat, and the involuntary curling of his fingers. Those rough, salty lips moved with a raw uncertainty, just for that one moment… that one moment before Gentry forcefully shoved him away and flat against the table, pinning one hand over his head. Ow, that hurt. But the pounding of new of pain in his shoulder couldn’t wipe the self-satisfied smile off his face, a smile which widened as he watched Gentry catch his breath.
“Do you know what a headfuck is, Gentry?”
“No.”
"Well, you are one.”
Zach’s gaze drifted towards the pencil sharpener. Against the smooth, sharp metal edges which easily caught the fading sunlight, glimmering brightly enough to catch his interest for a few minutes. In the background he vaguely heard Gentry say “Hasn’t stopped you yet,” and briskly replied,
“Yeah, it hasn’t.”
It was still hot enough that he half-expected the metal to melt before his eyes, scalding as a pile of hot liquid goo. He lazily inched his fingertips towards the sharpener, then suddenly darted for Gentry’s hand. The hot skin pressed against his own as he intertwined their fingers and tugged him forward, just suddenly enough to make him stumble. Gentry caught his balance easily enough, then tried to tug his hand back. Once, twice.
Gently at first, as if brushing it off as a joke.
Oh, but it was no joke. Zach was watched him with carefully concealed amusement.
And finally Gentry was pulling so roughly that Zach’s arm was shaking along with him, prompting Zach to goad him, “You can fuck, but you can’t hold hands?”
“I can do whatever I want.”
“Well,” said Zach, “Don’t you want to?”
"...Sure."
He stopped talking, and started staring; first at Zach, then at some spot on the wall. But not too intensely, just casually. As if his skin wasn’t scalding into Zach’s, as if he hadn’t tried to pull away, and as though that hand-holding was an everyday kind of thing. And it was, really, because this wasn’t important unless he said so. There was no issue unless he made it an issue, and it wasn’t as if he was from Mars and had never held hands with anyone before. He’d held his mother’s on the way to the library until it became uncool to. He’d held hands with that one girl in the first grade, after everyone dared him to. He’d held his own the first time he burnt it on the stove, and then every time after that. He’d held Zach’s hand when he pulled him into the locker room, but this, admittedly, was different. He just wasn’t sure how to explain it, preferring instead to wallow in awkward silence, grim-faced and tight-lipped.
Zach watched him smugly for a while longer, until Gentry scowled and again tried to wrench his hand away; in spite of the redness which still burned in the tips of his ears— something Zach noted with no-longer-concealed amusement because, oh no, he was not letting him go now. Instead, he intertwined their fingers together and pulled him so close that he could feel his hot breathe ghost against his jaw.
“Let go.”
It was a warning… one Zach discarded as he slid one hand around his neck, drew him close, and kissed him. The piercing stung against his skin because once, just once, Gentry didn’t have the time to plan how he’d move his mouth around it. Just once he didn’t have the ability to suppress the soft moan in the back of his throat, and the involuntary curling of his fingers. Those rough, salty lips moved with a raw uncertainty, just for that one moment… that one moment before Gentry forcefully shoved him away and flat against the table, pinning one hand over his head. Ow, that hurt. But the pounding of new of pain in his shoulder couldn’t wipe the self-satisfied smile off his face, a smile which widened as he watched Gentry catch his breath.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 27
Zach leveled his gaze at him, until Gentry broke down into laughter. It wasn’t loud or annoyingly boisterous, but it was just mean enough for Zach to fire,
“Geez. You’re even less funny when you’re sleep-deprived.”
Gentry quieted down, softly tittering to himself until Wuthering Heights flew at his face, barely missing him and very narrowly scraping past top of his head. He caught it just as it banged off the wall.
“Now Zach; don’t let your jealousy out on this…” he read from the back of the cover, “enduring piece of 19th Century literature.”
“You’re not funny, I’m not jealous, and that’s not enduring.”
“The look on your face was all of those. You should have seen it.”
“Whatever. Fact is, it doesn't bother me. You're not my boyfriend; and I wouldn’t care even if you did fuck Casey.”
“I didn’t.”
“Whatever.” he grumbled, taking a deep deep breath as he crouched down to pick his pencil off the floor, only to grip hot skin instead of cold wood.
He jerked away immediately. Gentry did too, pulling back his hand if he’d burned it on an open fire. He then glanced at the ceiling, as if that crack in the second corner tile was particularily interesting today. And in turn Zach grudgingly grabbed the pencil, and rigidly sat up in his seat, scratching the pointed lead tip against the paper to slowly spell out Z-a-c-h T-y-l-e-r…
It snapped loudly.
Gentry discreetly slid him a pencil sharpener.
“Geez. You’re even less funny when you’re sleep-deprived.”
Gentry quieted down, softly tittering to himself until Wuthering Heights flew at his face, barely missing him and very narrowly scraping past top of his head. He caught it just as it banged off the wall.
“Now Zach; don’t let your jealousy out on this…” he read from the back of the cover, “enduring piece of 19th Century literature.”
“You’re not funny, I’m not jealous, and that’s not enduring.”
“The look on your face was all of those. You should have seen it.”
“Whatever. Fact is, it doesn't bother me. You're not my boyfriend; and I wouldn’t care even if you did fuck Casey.”
“I didn’t.”
“Whatever.” he grumbled, taking a deep deep breath as he crouched down to pick his pencil off the floor, only to grip hot skin instead of cold wood.
He jerked away immediately. Gentry did too, pulling back his hand if he’d burned it on an open fire. He then glanced at the ceiling, as if that crack in the second corner tile was particularily interesting today. And in turn Zach grudgingly grabbed the pencil, and rigidly sat up in his seat, scratching the pointed lead tip against the paper to slowly spell out Z-a-c-h T-y-l-e-r…
It snapped loudly.
Gentry discreetly slid him a pencil sharpener.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 26
Zach used to pretend it— all of this— was spontaneous.
That this was sex, and that it sort of just happened. In the heat of the moment, with indescribable passion. Well.
There were only so many times you could “accidentally” have sex. And only so many times you could be thrown on the table and cry out “we shouldn’t…”
The jig was up. It had been up for some time, and Gentry knew it, too. Heck, he’d tease him about remembering to wear the “cheap” underwear. Zach never did think of a retort for that, but instead accepted it in stride. Well, as much stride as he could muster, since cheating was not exactly dignified.
The other thing that wasn’t dignified was peeling yourself off someone’s lap after, well. Some things Zach didn’t spend much time dwelling on, and “afterglow” was one of them. Which was why he quickly moved off Gentry’s lap, sticky-wet with a potent mix of sweat and cum, a dull ache building deep inside him. It would hurt more, later... but Gentry knew better than to leave him limping. He propped up against the table, as the day reeled through his mind.
Today’s lesson had started so slowly… he had time to leave, but he hadn’t. It all happened so slowly.
The air conditioner was broken. The heat hung heavy, swollen from the sunlight which glared through the blinds and reflected off tiny beads of sweat.
Wuthering Heights lay unopened on the library table, its laminated cover strongly glinting in the slowly fading sunlight.
The tiny room was hot, but comfortable. Too comfortable to work, and too comfortable to leave. Just good enough to stay the extra ten minutes.
Zach was slouched over the pale wood table, cheek mushed against his elbow and half-lidded eyes peering over his elbow. Sweat weighed down a few short strands of his coarse hair, the ones which refused to neatly spike up with the rest. Occasionally he would suck in his upper or lower lip, even though he tiredly acknowledged that it wouldn’t help the blistering dryness.
Days like this, he understood why rain existed.
It was one of those late afternoons where nothing seemed to move fast enough, when the world turned caramel-slow and everything was chewed over and pulled under. For the past ten minutes there had been nothing, not so much as a sound. Yet the lack of conversation didn’t bother Zach, because Gentry had a way of talking without speaking.
It was the way he sat curled up in his seat, slouching with his balled fist against frowning lips and an arm loosely thrown across his stomach, amber eyes blankly fixated on some spot in the distance. The heat was licking away at him, too; melting him into a pile of sweat and bones. The smell of chlorine still hung heavy on him, and his hair was still damp with water and sweat.
Sweat.
Both of theirs; its pungent smell permeated the air, unashamed and raw, so strong he could almost taste its curdled flavor in his mouth. God, it was hot. Too hot. So hot that Gentry peeled off his shirt and threw it at the window, falling back in his chair like a sunburned old redneck, the kind Zach saw in dubbed American TV shows.
“You need a rifle.” He told him, and Gentry smoothly drawled back,
“You need a whipping.”
No sooner had the reply left his lips then he lurched forward and took a long gulp of water, downing the bottle quickly a little bit trickled down the corner of his mouth. Zach watched him lazily, one hand fumbling through his backpack to pull out a shiny new mp3 player.
Gentry seemed to ignore him, until the first notes of the bumbling Bollywood melody reached his ears, honey-thick and rough all at once, thumping through the thick black earphones which hung loosely over Zach’s shoulders.
It went on for a good ten minutes, the only sound in the room until Gentry grumbled,
“What is that?”
“Bollywood.”
“It should be called terrible.”
Zach sighed, and sourly turned off his mp3 player.
“I was just trying to liven things up.”
“That music could make the dead turn in their graves.”
“Then, what do you like, Gentry?”
“Fucking.”
Zach gave him a knowing look, “No, really? I meant music.”
“Nothing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never thought about it.”
Gentry lurched forward and swiped away the mp3 player before Zach could paw it back, then stood up and flipped Wuthering Heights open to page 255.
“Finals are in a few days. Knowing Handson, most of your grade will go on an essay about any book you’ve read. Wuthering Heights is a safe bet, since he does the same thing every year.”
“I already passed.” Zach sighed, “Who cares.”
“If you’re happy with a C, then why do you still come here?”
Zach shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then leaned forward with his elbows on the table and loudly asked, “What else do I need to know?”
“He gets all his final questions off a site, but doesn’t go in order. Your safest bet is to do all the prompts... ‘comes down to seven.”
“Got it.” Zach nodded curtly, and reached for his pencil.
“Just write the outlines for now.”
“K.”
“I’ll help you from there.”
Help you. Zach didn’t know why those words irritated him as much as they did. So he briefly, very briefly, stole a look at him. At the faded jeans he had worn for the past few days, the rough bruises on his sore-scrubbed red hands, and the stale look in his eyes which hinted he hadn’t slept.
“How can you help me when you can barely help yourself?” he asked himself.
Just after the sound of his voice came back to him did he realize he’d said it out loud. Gentry paused dryly, regarded him coolly, then went on.
“A day or two before the final, you’ll read over your finished copies. By then, you’ll be ready for whatever he throws at you.”
“Gentry.”
“Yeah?”
“Did you also tutor Casey?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Gentry looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged carelessly.
“We fucked.”
The pencil dropped from Zach’s hands. It hit the floor with a muted thump, rolling between them. Zach gawked up at that unrelenting poker face, at the lips which very slowly curled into a smile.
That this was sex, and that it sort of just happened. In the heat of the moment, with indescribable passion. Well.
There were only so many times you could “accidentally” have sex. And only so many times you could be thrown on the table and cry out “we shouldn’t…”
The jig was up. It had been up for some time, and Gentry knew it, too. Heck, he’d tease him about remembering to wear the “cheap” underwear. Zach never did think of a retort for that, but instead accepted it in stride. Well, as much stride as he could muster, since cheating was not exactly dignified.
The other thing that wasn’t dignified was peeling yourself off someone’s lap after, well. Some things Zach didn’t spend much time dwelling on, and “afterglow” was one of them. Which was why he quickly moved off Gentry’s lap, sticky-wet with a potent mix of sweat and cum, a dull ache building deep inside him. It would hurt more, later... but Gentry knew better than to leave him limping. He propped up against the table, as the day reeled through his mind.
Today’s lesson had started so slowly… he had time to leave, but he hadn’t. It all happened so slowly.
The air conditioner was broken. The heat hung heavy, swollen from the sunlight which glared through the blinds and reflected off tiny beads of sweat.
Wuthering Heights lay unopened on the library table, its laminated cover strongly glinting in the slowly fading sunlight.
The tiny room was hot, but comfortable. Too comfortable to work, and too comfortable to leave. Just good enough to stay the extra ten minutes.
Zach was slouched over the pale wood table, cheek mushed against his elbow and half-lidded eyes peering over his elbow. Sweat weighed down a few short strands of his coarse hair, the ones which refused to neatly spike up with the rest. Occasionally he would suck in his upper or lower lip, even though he tiredly acknowledged that it wouldn’t help the blistering dryness.
Days like this, he understood why rain existed.
It was one of those late afternoons where nothing seemed to move fast enough, when the world turned caramel-slow and everything was chewed over and pulled under. For the past ten minutes there had been nothing, not so much as a sound. Yet the lack of conversation didn’t bother Zach, because Gentry had a way of talking without speaking.
It was the way he sat curled up in his seat, slouching with his balled fist against frowning lips and an arm loosely thrown across his stomach, amber eyes blankly fixated on some spot in the distance. The heat was licking away at him, too; melting him into a pile of sweat and bones. The smell of chlorine still hung heavy on him, and his hair was still damp with water and sweat.
Sweat.
Both of theirs; its pungent smell permeated the air, unashamed and raw, so strong he could almost taste its curdled flavor in his mouth. God, it was hot. Too hot. So hot that Gentry peeled off his shirt and threw it at the window, falling back in his chair like a sunburned old redneck, the kind Zach saw in dubbed American TV shows.
“You need a rifle.” He told him, and Gentry smoothly drawled back,
“You need a whipping.”
No sooner had the reply left his lips then he lurched forward and took a long gulp of water, downing the bottle quickly a little bit trickled down the corner of his mouth. Zach watched him lazily, one hand fumbling through his backpack to pull out a shiny new mp3 player.
Gentry seemed to ignore him, until the first notes of the bumbling Bollywood melody reached his ears, honey-thick and rough all at once, thumping through the thick black earphones which hung loosely over Zach’s shoulders.
It went on for a good ten minutes, the only sound in the room until Gentry grumbled,
“What is that?”
“Bollywood.”
“It should be called terrible.”
Zach sighed, and sourly turned off his mp3 player.
“I was just trying to liven things up.”
“That music could make the dead turn in their graves.”
“Then, what do you like, Gentry?”
“Fucking.”
Zach gave him a knowing look, “No, really? I meant music.”
“Nothing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never thought about it.”
Gentry lurched forward and swiped away the mp3 player before Zach could paw it back, then stood up and flipped Wuthering Heights open to page 255.
“Finals are in a few days. Knowing Handson, most of your grade will go on an essay about any book you’ve read. Wuthering Heights is a safe bet, since he does the same thing every year.”
“I already passed.” Zach sighed, “Who cares.”
“If you’re happy with a C, then why do you still come here?”
Zach shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then leaned forward with his elbows on the table and loudly asked, “What else do I need to know?”
“He gets all his final questions off a site, but doesn’t go in order. Your safest bet is to do all the prompts... ‘comes down to seven.”
“Got it.” Zach nodded curtly, and reached for his pencil.
“Just write the outlines for now.”
“K.”
“I’ll help you from there.”
Help you. Zach didn’t know why those words irritated him as much as they did. So he briefly, very briefly, stole a look at him. At the faded jeans he had worn for the past few days, the rough bruises on his sore-scrubbed red hands, and the stale look in his eyes which hinted he hadn’t slept.
“How can you help me when you can barely help yourself?” he asked himself.
Just after the sound of his voice came back to him did he realize he’d said it out loud. Gentry paused dryly, regarded him coolly, then went on.
“A day or two before the final, you’ll read over your finished copies. By then, you’ll be ready for whatever he throws at you.”
“Gentry.”
“Yeah?”
“Did you also tutor Casey?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Gentry looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged carelessly.
“We fucked.”
The pencil dropped from Zach’s hands. It hit the floor with a muted thump, rolling between them. Zach gawked up at that unrelenting poker face, at the lips which very slowly curled into a smile.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 19: Part 25
Note: I was sick. To celebrate my recovery (and the leftover pumpkin pie I'll be eating until the xmas) I'm updating daily this week :)!! This part is a tad NC-17, but it's important events-wise. Promise:
Gentry ran his tongue down Zach’s chest, down his stomach, over the sticky-wet skin. There was nothing coy about it, nothing apologetic about the way Zach writhed into his lap, and then arched against the coarse fingertips which relentlessly stroked him where no one else could. Stroked him how no one else had. Fingertips all at once battered and strong, just slick enough not to break him in half. There was nothing shy about the soft pleading, nothing deceptive about the nervous sweat which trickled down the back of his neck.
Zach’s legs were straddled over Gentry’s lap, bare feet every so often kicking against the back of the Maplewood chair. It would probably leave a mark, but that wasn’t important. Zach wasn’t aware of it, or how tightly his arms were wrapped around Gentry’s neck, his natural fear of falling, in the reassurance of the strong arms which kept him steady as each excruciatingly slow thrust pushed him closer. Closer to coming, closer to leaving, closer to him.
Coming was not the best part, it was right before… that little space in time when Gentry first pushed inside him, when he slowly fell apart. When he no longer cared about showing off or who had control, and finally betrayed how much he needed this.
Behind tightly closed lips was the silent whisper which needed no voice; unspoken words reflected in the depths of his eyes. Later he’d play it off, shrug it away. But in that moment…
In that moment, Zach knew he could hurt him. He could catch him off-guard, he could make him admit every weakness and make him beg for even the slightest sliver of affection— Beat him down and use him. But he never did. Because…
In that little moment in time, he felt closer to him than anyone in the world.
Gentry ran his tongue down Zach’s chest, down his stomach, over the sticky-wet skin. There was nothing coy about it, nothing apologetic about the way Zach writhed into his lap, and then arched against the coarse fingertips which relentlessly stroked him where no one else could. Stroked him how no one else had. Fingertips all at once battered and strong, just slick enough not to break him in half. There was nothing shy about the soft pleading, nothing deceptive about the nervous sweat which trickled down the back of his neck.
Zach’s legs were straddled over Gentry’s lap, bare feet every so often kicking against the back of the Maplewood chair. It would probably leave a mark, but that wasn’t important. Zach wasn’t aware of it, or how tightly his arms were wrapped around Gentry’s neck, his natural fear of falling, in the reassurance of the strong arms which kept him steady as each excruciatingly slow thrust pushed him closer. Closer to coming, closer to leaving, closer to him.
Coming was not the best part, it was right before… that little space in time when Gentry first pushed inside him, when he slowly fell apart. When he no longer cared about showing off or who had control, and finally betrayed how much he needed this.
Behind tightly closed lips was the silent whisper which needed no voice; unspoken words reflected in the depths of his eyes. Later he’d play it off, shrug it away. But in that moment…
In that moment, Zach knew he could hurt him. He could catch him off-guard, he could make him admit every weakness and make him beg for even the slightest sliver of affection— Beat him down and use him. But he never did. Because…
In that little moment in time, he felt closer to him than anyone in the world.
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