Derelict on HotGuySecret
17
I step in a puddle, my foot is wet. I don’t know who I am. I write tender under a pool of light. The street is empty and long. The desk is hard.
Outside it’s night. The window is black. The carpet is green. The kitchen is large it’s a splash of bright behind my back somewhere but there’s not enough counter space or cupboards and some of the tiles are cracked. In front of me there’s a wall.
The man downstairs is yelling. He yells, and yells, and then there is silence. He yells again. Words appear. And then there is nothing. I listen, my eyes shrinking. There’s a distant murmur. He’s talking on his phone. He is Frank. He’s arguing with someone. Every third word is ‘fucking.’ Like a bad boys bad nursery rhyme. He must be arguing with a woman. He sounds all emotional. He sounds heated annoyed and distressed even.
Now theres music playing. Now theres loud music playing. Alot of drums. Alot of electric guitars. Twanging and banging underneath theres a muffled muscled beat. Traffic whizzes by in the near distance or theres a siren far away. My window blankly eyes me, I’m shielded by the dark. Its like a cat staring off to my left. Theres a cat staring in the middle of the carpet behind me yawning dazed. The other one is curled up on the bed. We’re very cozy here. Frank told me he plans to get to my plumbing done later this week. He is hairy.
I need to get off. At midnight I slip down the stairs and out the door. Words appear, then silence does. My mother is not home. My brother is either asleep, or he hears me and doesnt care! He beats me up sometimes: Alot really. Almost every day after school. Never enough to leave marks, but every day almost or at least say four times a week. I think its something about school he doesnt like it. People dont like him maybe? After school when I get home all I have to do is look at him wrong act wrong walk wrong talk wrong whatever and he grabs me, throws me to the ground, jumps on top of me, pushes at me, bangs his forearms against my sides, digs his elbows into my ribs. Forces me to fight back starts little wars some hand-to-hand combat we roll around on the floor scrapping and clawing like mean dogs. Sometimes I fight back harder I push at him bump my fist against him or I pull skin and twist. If I get away I make a break for my room. If I can I shut the door I lock it. If we’re still on the floor and he pins me down on my belly or on my back he shouts, “Give it up!” I always do he gets me pinned down good sometimes twisted up so hard it hurts and I holler, “I give!” and he bounces up and down on my back or my chest flexes his biceps lets out a long victory yell. Then he gets up then he allows me to get up and we go on with our day. If he catches me in my room he throws me on the bed and if he gets me on the bed I know he’s gonna wail on me really bad. Usually til I end up crying.
He’s been weightlifting lately. Mom asked him why he said he was getting himself ready. When she asked him for what he didnt really have an answer he was just like, Whatever.
I love my brother very much. He is very, very angry and sad. I like his fierceness he’s so intense! He’s a teenager. His body is long and sinewy and live-wired. He bristles everywhere. But there’s something puny about him too. Or something slumped. I know he only wants me to feel puny too so we’ll be more alike. Because we should be. Because we’re brothers.
18
Oh how near comes the skin, the clothes! Do they smell smoky, does it feel clammy? Sweat, perspiration, moisturization the skin is always however, slightly damp. Its like a soil hair roots into from sprouts. Feel them ticklish under fingertips. Feel them glossy. Then the skin.
The stubble on his cheeks shows black, even when he’s shaved. There are lines pulling away from his eyes. His teeth are pretty clean. His breaths not bad. When he kneels in front of the tub the top of his head shines oilily where his hair is thinning. He goes down and up the stairs from my apartment to his, getting the tools he needs. I stand in the bathroom door lamely, stepping back as he comes and goes getting out of the way. He is both near and far it’s almost dancing. He uses a grease pen to mark the wall around the faucets apparently where he’s going to cut through to expose the pipes. He’s decided to cut here and here and here. He looks at me over his shoulder by now I’m admiring the slope of his back I’m noticing how the hair grows on the nape of his neck.
“Dont you got somethin to do,” he says.
For a second I’m confused does he mean theres something I should be doing to help? But then I understand he dont mean that, what he means is dont I got something else I could be doing. Oh. Blankly I wander off, then I go sit at my desk and stare at the screen of the CompuSurv.
Rolling, rolling, rolling. Flickering in and out of consciousness eye and light. A tangle of bodies. Not smooth except unexpectedly delightfully sometimes. The moistness of taste all over.
“I know you smoke code,” he says.
“You know I –” My heart boomed. My jaw said hello to the floor. My head felt suddenly baloony.
“smoke code,” he finished for me. He was an ex-cop. I was suddenly, very aware that the man standing in front of me was an x. And damn if he didnt still have the attitude. I wondered if he’d quit or been fired. “I saw the roll you left lying in the ashtray last time I was up here.”
“Oh?” I said. He nodded. “Oh,” I said. He was wearing blue jeans and a tank top. The tank top was tite. I wanted to touch his pecs. Also he had these soft handfuls of flesh on either side of his waist, his belly paunched just a little just enough. Once, when he was lifting his toolbox, he caught my eyes fascinating on his arm.
“So how much you got?” he asked.
I stared at him blankly. This time for a long time. “What,” I said finally.
“Code,” he said. “Get it. Show me what you got.”
I moved slowly, thickly. But I got it. I held up the sac so he could see. There wasn’t much left.
He put his hand out. “Ok,” he said, scowling at it. “When you gettin more?”
“Ahhhummm . . .” I scratched my head, unsure what to say. “Soon?” I suggested.
“Uh-huh, good. How soon?”
“Liiike in the next day or two maybe?”
He nodded. “Ok,” he said. “In the meantime, I’ll keep this.” He tucked what was left of the sac into the back pocket of his jeans.
“I’m not sure I understand,” I said. “Did you want me to get some more so you could buy some off me . . . ?”
“Ahhumm,” he said. “Do you want your water turned back on?”
Again I stared at him. “Yeah,” I said. “I mean, what – what?“
He snorted amused, disgusted. “C’mere,” he said. I followed him into the bathroom. He pointed at the hole he’d cut in the wall. “See those pipes?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Thats where the leak is,” he said. “To stop the leak, I turned the water off. You wanna take a bath or a shower you gotta reach inside that wall and turn the water back on. You can do that, right?”
I shrugged. “I . . . Sure.”
Again he snorted. “Look,” he explained with exaggerated patience, “theres knobs on the pipes. You just turn them. Here, stick your hand inside the wall.”
I stuck my hand in.
“Feel the knob?”
I felt around a little. “Yeah,” I said.
“Alright, you just twist it to the left when you want to turn the water on, and then you twist it all the way right again when your done. Think you can handle that?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, “sometime or maybe in the next day or two. In fact, maybe I’ll just wait until I hear from you.” He looked at me without smiling. “Soon.”
“Soon,” I said. “Yes. Soon.”
“And then you’ll get your leak fixed.” He bent to pick up his toolbox. He grabbed the handle palm up. Lifted it slow curling the metal box up, slow, slow, so’s his bicep was bulging handsomely. Did he know? Or did I just see it slow? I dont know if he knew. But I think maybe he did. See I think maybe he did cuz –
“I’ll let myself out,” he grumbled. Why was he grumbling? I followed him quickly to the stairs. He was thudding but not loudly I forgot – his bare feet! I peeked over the railings edge. Nice toes. Big.
“Buy plenty,” he called out right before opening the door. “I got a big appetite.” I moved fast but not fast enough. I didnt see his ass go. I only heard the door slam.
Then I sat I sat and I sat at the top of the stairs a good ten minutes before finally creeping down and easing the lock back into place. But before I could I heard him moving around in his apt, right across the hall. So I decided not to. I was afraid he’d hear.
I didnt want him to offend him.
19
“Hey, how are you bro? I haven’t heard from you in well, I guess it’s been . . . quite awhile anyhow . . .”
Sadness leaks from the walls. Light drips from a bare bulb. Shadows lean wearily in the corners and everywhere.
“So, are you alright? Give me a call . . . I miss you.”
The summer I was fifteen my dad took me camping twice. It was sposed to be sweet time, just get away from it all and hang, right? The first time I didnt even know we was going, he just picked me up at the house and sorta surprised me with it. Sure, I’d be into that I said, cooolio cool. The woods we was going to was a couple hours drive it was a long twilight getting there it stretched the whole sky. It was like we was driving straight into it then it passed overhead and everything opened up in its wake we saw stars. After awhile we turned into a woods down stony dirt roads marked off into lots bump bump bump down pitted roads made of gravel and mud until we found ours. Pitched the tent that took some time, made up a fire it was dark by then, cooked some hot dogs stuck on sticks and heated some beans on a flat metal plate. Told fart jokes while we ate. Washed our dishes off at the water spigot sticking up from the end of a pipe near the road. There was a big ditch there too, lots of little flying bugs buzzed around there. We sat at the edge of the fire in some beach chairs he’d brought until it burned down to embers and the fireflies looked like sparks. I took out my E-tah and showed him some games I was playing. I even got him to try one – he wasnt any good but he said it was fun. He asked me about school, wondered if I’d decided yet what sort of a job career I might be thinking of. I said I wasn’t sure yet. He told me not to worry, there was plenty of time. I asked him to tell me more about what he did. He said he was a suit at an advertising agency, something-something something like that. I know charts and graphs and graphics was part of what he did, but I couldnt really make much sense of it. I liked hearing him talk tho and he seemed to be enjoying himself so – cooolio cool.
Later we stripped down to undershorts and t-shirts and crawled into our sleeping bags. We lay at angles to each other inside the tent it was dark our heads close together like the tops of our skulls almost touching. Whenever we looked at each other we had to turn our heads slightly and lift our eyes. We talked until we was yawning. Then I paused, breathing lightly. After awhile I heard him snoring.
The next morning we kinda cheated, instead of cooking we drove into a nearby town and had breakfast at a diner. Then we came back to camp and went hiking, there was all kinda trails around there. We wore backpacks but without much in them, just a little lunch and some emergency stuff (just in case), some flares and wi-fivers and medecine shit and water. We wore shorts risking mosquito bites and ticks but it was worth it much cooler and with bug spray of course. And the old man had good legs for hiking, I had to admit. Not bad arms either, we walked I don’t know how many miles, alot alot. He kept track of where we was on a little map he kept tucked in his back pocket. We ended up climbing to the top of a pretty steep hill on top of that was this big pile of giant rocks lying on huge flat jagged stone slabs. We sat up on the highest part we could and surveyed the world everything we saw alot of it was treetops and sky blue and white. We ate our lunch and rested awhile, side by side. And then just some more looked.
After awhile the sun was starting to slide we decided we’d better head back. We talked all kinda shit as we went stopped and looked at alot of shit weird looking plants and weird kinda bugs doing weird things, he spotted a deer once and all three of us stood very still until we moved and then the deer bolted flashing its white badge thru the trees . . . Soon as we got back to camp we headed for the showers. These were pretty close we could walk there that was pretty cool it had four stalls inside partitioned with chest-high cinderblock walls. We took our showers side by side, we was standing no more than five feet apart and we was both of us completely naked, I couldnt believe it I was watching him from the corner of my eye and when he turned his back to me I took a quick step closer and tried to steal a fast shameless look. He turned round soon then tho but I also I liked it alot when he raised his arms to wash his hair. I liked the way he looked then. After he was done I did the same thing, I turned my face to the water and closed my eyes twisted and turned let him take a look at me if he wanted to, I didnt care. When we got done we toweled off, dressed and when we opened our stall doors and stepped out it was like you could tell we felt brand new. We grinned at each other we headed back to camp, built a new fire, cooked some soup and grilled some sandwiches. He told me I’d done a good job on the hike, hadn’t had hardly any trouble at all keeping up with the old man. ‘Old man’ I mocked and pushed him with my shoulder. He laughed. I told him I’d started running track at school. He said he could tell, it showed.
We was both of us ready for bed pretty early that night. I felt good tho. “Tired out?” he asked after we was settled into our sleeping bags. I tilted my head and looked up at him. He had his hands tucked behind his head. His arms was up. “Well . . . I’m not tired in” I said and was surprised to hear him chuckle my joke was so lame. I didnt know what to do what to say next I couldnt figure him out so I got quiet awhile. “Hey dad” I said finally, “I just thought of something.” He glanced over at me. I had my hands up behind my head too. I waited and waited. “Well give boy – what was you thinking?” he said at last. “Ohh its nothing” I said, “its just that I remembered you didnt give me a hug tonite.” He propped himself up on one elbow. I lifted my eyes and saw him looking down at me his mouth slightly open, he had a scruffy beard it made his mouth look small and pink in the nighttime glow and his teeth shone very white when he grinned. Then I grinned and he suddenly laughed and grabbed me tickled me rough scrunched my hair up in his fist and was rubbing it, then he hugged me hugged me hard and I could hear the grin still in his voice when he said “There ya go bud, hows that feel, huh? Huh? Huh?” “Yeah” I said laughing, “thats ok, thats ok old man.” Then while we was still close and his mouth was next to my ear he whispered “So . . . dya have a good day?” “Yeah I did” I whispered back. He pulled away, looked down at me a moment bent forward I felt just the slightest pressure of his lips on my forehead then my cheek. “Me too” he said and lay back down again. Had I felt him trembling? Could it be I’d felt him trembling? I was. I held my breath. He rolled over so his back was to me. “You’ll be sixteen in what, about four months now, right?” he asked. “October 3rd” I said. “Hmm” he said, “I’ll have to plan something special.” That sunk in. I let it sink in some more. “Awesome” I said. “Night bud” he murmured. I wondered what he’d plan. My head buzzed and buzzed with ideas until I was dreaming.
We got up early. I had a sticky mess in my underwear, which I couldnt hardly believe I’d done that. I wondered if I’d made any noise when it happened. He was acting like he hadnt noticed nothing so maybe not, and I managed to get my shorts off when he wasnt looking. We was packed up and gone by noon. There wasnt nothing left but burned out ashes in the firepit and crushed down bits of grass where the tent had been. “Fun huh?” he said as we was pulling out. Thats all I needed to hear. “Yee-ees!” I shouted. He grinned big at that, his dark whiskers flashing in the sun. Then he looked thoughtful a moment. “You might want to mention that to your mom” he said. “Just casual like, you know – if she asks. It’d be good for her to know we’re getting along so well.” “Yeah” I said, nodding. “Thats a good idea I will. I will.”
“How much did you get?”
20
“How much did you get?”
“A q,” I tell him.
“Ok. Fetch it.”
Fetch it I think, Fetch it opening up my dresser drawer and pulling out the sac. I bring it to him. He takes it, unrolls it, opens it, sticks his nose in it, inhales it, pinches a chunk of it between his fingers, smells that, breaks the chunk open, smells that – smells his fingers – licks his fingers . . .
“Mm-hmm,” he says. “Medium grade, but it’ll do. Got a bowl?”
Of course he’d have the knowledge, being x. I fetch him a small glass pipe. He sits at my desk, the same desk I’m sitting at now, pulling small chunks from the sac and breaking them up. “Thought maybe you just rolled,” he mutters. Guys like him never roll. There fingers was too fat, lol. When the pipes ready, he walks himself over to the couch and motions for me to join him. “Light it,” he says.
I take the pipe from him. Dig out a lighter, hold flame to herb and inhale . . . trying not to take in too much. Make to pass the pipe over to him but
“Huh-uh,” he says. “Try again. Only maybe really inhale some this time.”
I hold flame to herb and inhale – deeply.
“Blow the smoke my way,” he says. and as the cloud billows and curls round his face he sniffs, closes his eyes, breathes in more deeply, opens his mouth slightly, his tonguengue . . . His tonguengue . . . Its like he’s tasting . . . the smoke the air . . .
“Ok,” he says, holding out his hand, “give it here.” I hand the pipe over. Putting flame to herb he inhales deeply . . .
He was wearing a black t-shirt. His biceps was swollen under the short sleeves. His jeans was faded, they looked soft to touch. A tangle of short black hairs stuck out between the edges of a tear in the cloth, lower thigh. The skin on the back of his neck was bristly, also creased, corded, sunburnt. He was so close I could smell him. A mixture of something like autumn leaves when theyre wet and spicy oil and some masculion iron perfume rising from his burnished skin. I glanced down at his feet, bare as usual, broad, flat and frankly hairy. His toenails was squalid but of course. Leaning back on the couch he took another deep hit from the pipe. Stared at me through the growing daze while he held the smoke in, then blew it out at me in big gusts at my face. I felt it slipping across my cheek – turned my head towards him and breathed in.
“Here,” he said, giving me the pipe. “You might get another blast out of that.” But the blast I’d had I’d had already was already . . .
“That’s alright,” I mumbled. “You go ahead –”
“Hit it,” he ordered.
I held flame to herb and inhaled. Deeply, but all I got mostly was ashy drag. Frank leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes. I set the pipe down and leaned back too, carefully and waited.
“Not bad,” he murmured. One eye squinted open. “I’ve had better, but this . . .” He smiled. “This’ll do.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I said. “So ummm did you ummmm . . .”
He cocked an eyebrow and scowled at me drowsily, he looked like a bear just waking up from his sleep. “Did I . . . what?” he said.
My head was gently spinning, under the delicious spell of the cannico my head was gently swimming, and there was a deep, porous energy seeping from my bones. “Well,” I said dreamily, my voice sounding like it was coming from somewhere else behind me, or above me maybe “did you wanna . . . buy some from me . . . or through me . . . ?” I stopped though suddenly at the sight of his eyes growing hard. “Or, I dunno” I added hastily “maybe you had somethin else youd rather . . .” My voice trailed off into silence.
Slowly he rolled himself into a more upright position. Slowly he was raising his head. Both his eyes was wide open now, and they was looking kinda mean. “You sure do like pushin this buy some shit. You tellin me you sell?” he asked. His lips was starting to twitch. I saw it happening. I saw it happening as I was watching it his scowl was turning into a snarl his voice was harshing his eyes was daggering.
“No” I said hastily, “I just thought you – Look I’d be glad to give you some if –”
“I’m askin you,” he said, “do. you. sell. this. shit? Am I now findin out that I been livin all this time with a dealer in this house?” All at once he lunged forward he grabbed my left nipple right through my shirt with his fingers, and squeezed it hard. His thumb was broad and flat, the nail squared off crookedly. He dug it in. I was so surprised my first reaction was to give a kind of grunt and jump my chest towards him – then when I felt the pain I tried to yank away. In response he reached out and grabbed the other nipple, now pulling them both so that I was forced to lean in towards him, edging my body degree by degree closer until finally we was starin at each other face to face, noses just inches apart.
“It’s a simple question,” he said calmly. I was thinking I shouldnt have worn a white shirt it made my nipples way too easy to find. “It requires nothing more than a yes or no answer. Do, you, deal, drugs? To anyone – friends, co-workers, family members, people on the street – kids? Simple question, bud. Now I want a simple answer. Do you deal drugs? Yes or no!”
“No!” I yelled. My tits was really starting to burn now. “No, I don’t sell drugs! Not to you, not to anyone!”
“Not to me?” he snarled.
“Well –” I stammered, trying to think fast – “you didn’t buy any!”
He pushed me away. “Shit!” I said, rubbing at my chest. He watched me close. He kept on watching me close until I’d settled down enough to look back at him. “Umm if your askin me for money, bud – and you did – your dealin.”
Slowly he pushed himself off the couch, went over to the desk, picked the sac up and stuffed it into his pocket. “Well I think I’m gonna assume you just meant to give this to me free of charge . . . Like any good friend would.”
“S-sure” I said. “Like any g-good . . . g-good friend.”
He gave me a look he gave me another one of his amused/disgusted grunts, crossed the room towards the kitchen, headed for the stairs. “You know,” he called back to me, “you could get in real trouble for this.” He dug the rolled-up sac out of his pocket again and waved it at me. “Like, I could get you into real trouble for this.”
“Well but” I said “I mean ok but – what do you want me to do?”
He stopped in his tracks. “Do?” he repeated. “Do? Well now what dyou spose I’d want you to do?”
“I don’t know, whatever. I mean . . . anything – f-f-friend. Whatever . . .” I gestured towards him, towards his body, vaguely with my hands – then raised them innocently. “You know – whatever you say . . .”
He turned round on the stairs. He began walking towards me slowly. I took a step or two towards him, then stopped. From several feet apart we stared at each other, and then I felt a kind of shockwave warping the air between us. Frank looked left then right noticing the windows at either end of my apt. He shoved me towards the bathroom. “Get in there,” he ordered. I fell back into the shadows. He leaned in towards me from the doorway, arms lifted, one elbow resting on either side of the frame. We looked at each other through the daze, our eyes red and heavy from code. I saw he had tiny pricks of persperation glittering on his forehead. My mouth was hanging open. I remembered and shut it – in slo-mo . . .
“Is what I think just happened here what really happened?” he asked, his voice so low and needlely I almost couldnt hear it.
“I – I dont know . . .” I whispered.
He shook his head. “Was you just makin some kinda pass at me?” His eyes was looking very close into mine. He twisted his face so they was closer still. “Is that what you meant by all that ‘whatever – anything’ shit? Was you makin . . . was you makin me some kinda offer?“
“Well I uh well I uh . . .” Where was he at with this? I couldn’t tell. His eyes kept looking they didnt say anything but they didn’t waver right at me. His lips was parted, he was breathing through his mouth and I could see his tongue in there, moving restlessly about. His teeth opened a little opened more – they looked ready to snap.
“Look,” I said, licking my own lips which were dry, “I just thought we might come to some sort of . . . agreement.” I paused to see if the word would have any effect but those eyes of his kept up their hard blank stare. Only the mouth opened slightly wider, the lips pulled back slightly farther.
“An agreement,” he repeated.
“Or a favor even,” I said. “I mean if I could do –” I searched but I had no other word – “whatever – I mean, whatever –”
He held a hand up. “I know what you mean,” he said. And before I could say what? he was making a moistly sucking noise with his lips. “We both know what you mean,” he said.
He moved away from me then and headed back towards the stairs again. “I aint gonna forget you said that neither,” he called back over the railing. It sounded like a threat and a promise. Thud thud th-thud thud thud his feet pounded down the steps. Then, from the door – “I’ll let you know when you can smoke again,” he hollered. “You hear me? And I better not be smelling anything burnin up here! No more buys for you boy til you get my say-so. Hell, who knows, maybe next time you buy I’ll be turnin you into a bug. Howd you like that, friend?” he shouted, barking with laughter.
Mustve been the code.
“Alright,” I mumbled. Of course I could buy more if I wanted. I could buy more for myself and smoke it . . . where? Where? I shrugged. Somewhere.
After he’d been gone awhile I slipped down the stairs to turn the lock, then stood for a moment quietly listening. If I listened close enough I could hear him moving around in his apt across the hall, from the kitchen or living room maybe. I could almost hear his bare feet softly padding across the floor. I closed my eyes. There! Didnt I just hear him belch? Then I’m sure I heard him – yeah I did he farted! A short fat one. Jesus.
I waited to see if I’d hear anything else. Silence. And only more silence. I opened my eyes again. He mustve gone into another room, his bedroom maybe. I listened hard for awhile. Then I hurried back upstairs. Maybe I could hear something through the floor.
21
‘Caged/Uncaged.’ Its a show I watch sometimes at nite on my E-tah. Its about criminals imprisoned for violent crimes who when released commit crimes even more violent than before. The crimes are shown in graphic detail, tho done on the cheap. You can tell theyre just actors. They never show any of the real people involved, either criminal or victim – tho its been rumored that sometimes crimes were recorded by their perpertrators and sent into the show and then the show used that footage and just pretended it was actors maybe sometimes with blurred out faces to give a sense of realism. Apparently it was something of a fad for awhile. Episode titles are like ‘Murder With Malice,’ ‘Mother of Death’ and ‘Fucked-up Fucker.’
These are my bedtime stories. They curiously comfort me. As I watch them and think This is how it could have gets. Bad.
The night wind tears the leaves off the trees – I can hear them blowing away. Their roughness their sharp edges shred the wind. That ripped noise it makes is how I know I’m alive.
A spray of rain clings to the windowpane. It looks very cold flung there, spattered there by the wind. Slowly it gathers, it runs.
The first time he knew he could have me was after we’d been rolling around on the floor a good twenty minutes maybe. I’d given up pleading for him to stop or even shouting “I giiive!” anymore. Because that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. I knew it. I’d started to figure it out a little bit by then. I realized that if I fought back, but not too hard, the wrestling would just go on and on, neither of us winning, neither of us losing. Maybe I thought he’d get tired – usually he just grew more intense. He was all over me, he was bigger and stronger. But I was slippery, he kept losing his grip, we rolled over and over, back and forth on the floor, him on top of me, me on top of him, him under me, me under him. At one point I’m on my knees trying to push him off me and he’s straddling me, then he moves off to one side and reaches down between my legs to grab my inner thigh but aims too high. When he feels me hard he laughs and snaps his hand away, surprised – then he grabs at it. I mean grabs at it, just fuckin grabs it like, I don’t know, like he meant to really find out what would happen if he did. Then he reaches for my thigh again and this time manages to flip me over, gets between my flailing arms and pushes down on me with his chest, once, twice, grunting hard each time, eyes blazing, hot, fierce, full of not quite anguish, some strange pleading and anger too and determination his lips pulled back tite. And inside all that as if he liked it. He did like it. I saw him liking it, and then I saw him understand that he liked it. When he did that he let go scrabbled back on his elbows and heels until he came to rest a few yards away. Raising his head he glared at me thru upright knees. He took in my face. He registered my alarm, my curiosity, my fear.
First he snarled at me. Then, graduly, his snarl turned into a smile.
22
He came for me in my room that very nite. At the moment I was more dead than alive, too deep into sleep for dreams. Suddenly a jumbling, a shock, in my spine, in my body, in my brain, an earthquake. Steve was stamping his ffoot on the mattress. Hard mean little sttomps.
“Whaa?” I mumbled blearily, twisting my head around.
“Shhh,” he whispered closing my lips with a finger. I looked up at him, I rubbed my eyes. He was pulling down his underwear – the only thing he had on – and now stood with shoulders slightly hunched, long arms dangling, his thing his dick hanging out right there in front me. Lankily thighed, sharply hipped, he was only a boy-man but his legs was hairy, his belly was covered with dark down there was hairs sprouting in the center of his chest, quite a few of them and the head of his thing at the end of its long curved shaft rising slow like the moon
I rolled onto my back. “What are you –”
“Shh-hhh!” The sound came out long and harsh. His body moved a pale blur in the darkness. Climbing up onto the bed he held me down he sat on me straddled me with his legs. His thing was maybe six inches from my face. Then his fist was too. “You say anything & I’ll fuck you up” he hissed.
I didnt say anything. His thing looked very big, and so did the stuff hanging under it it was almost like it was all too big for his body or something he was muscly but kinda scrawny.
“I mean it!” he said.
“I know” I said. To me it was simple and obvious. He could and he would. So I’d be too scared to say anything.
I was.
He pulled my head up he told me to open my mouth. I did he stuck his thing in. It felt very large against my lips and tongue. Soft, yet hard too. It was strange, his dick in my mouth. Like knowing somebody really well and then finding out you dont know them at all.
“Move your head up and down on it,” he told me.
I had no idea what I was doing. I pushed my mouth down on him as far as I could, far enough until I started gagging. After I done that a couple of times he just held my head in place and started sliding himself in and out of me. He made sounds as he did it, grunting and groaning noises. I made a few noises like that too, it sounded like something you were sposed to do. Then he pulled out of me and began jerking off furiously, pumping up and down on his thing with his fist. “Like that, like that,” he panted. Cum came spurting out of him, he squirted like a hose. Alot of it he caught in his hand, but some of it got on me anyway. Drops of it clung to my face and began to run. I wiped them away with my fingers.
“Quiet!” he whispered to me as he looked down at my face. He studied me a looong moment. Lightly he slapped my cheek. “Ok,” he said. He clambered off me, picked up his underwear and used it to clean his hands and his thing and his whole crotch area. He looked at me again, made a sudden disgusted noise flung the damp pair of underwear in the general direction of my head and stalked out of the room. I had a feeling he wanted to slam the door his back was hard but it was late at the last second he knew it and stopped himself. Instead the door closed like a sigh.
I threw his underwear onto the floor and used the bedsheet to clean myself off with. There was stuff dripping down my chest and a little on my shoulders too. Seemed like all nite I could smell it. Like all nite I kept getting whiffs of his cum even in my sleep.