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?”
"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?”
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.
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.