xxx Coy’s POV xxx

Two days later at lunch, I’m sitting on the basketball courts against a chain link fence with Keith, talking about nothing special. The ground’s damp underneath us and even though the snow has long since melted, everything is grey and wet. It’s spitting rain so we’ve got our hoods up and our legs crossed, knees and thighs touching each others. As of lately we’ve been cutting down on the PDA, so we’re just discreetly holding hands behind our legs.

We pause in talking when a figure in a white sweatshirt starts walking towards us from the corner of the courts, head bowed low.

“Is that … Laur?” Keith asks, squeezing my fingers ever so gently. I nod in response and watch her near, prepared to say hello, but a blonde boy runs up behind her. I can’t see who he is and I don’t recognize him. I’m about to ask Keith who he is, but he beats me to it, putting his hand on my shoulder before whispering ‘Jason’ in my ear.

I nod, remembering the very few times that Lauren’s mentioned her elusive boyfriend. He grabs her arm and makes her face him; she seems reluctant. I blush as I stare at him, cornflower-blonde hair sticking to his back as the rain falls harder, soaking his shirt, clinging to his body. His twiggy legs stick out from beneath green cargo shorts; and he’s good looking but I can’t figure out why. He’s not classically gorgeous.

“He’s cute, huh?” Keith laughs, and at first I’m worried about answering but I know he won’t care, Jason’s straight anyways.

“Very.” I reply, and he pats my leg with a chuckle.

We silently watch them talk, unable to hear them, but they both look decidedly upset. Lauren keeps shaking her head and Jason doesn’t release her arm. The rain steadily beats down on us and Keith and I huddle closer for warmth, I slide one of my arms behind his back and under his arm, pressing softly against his chest, deciding not to care about anyone that sees.

After around five full minutes, Jason grabs both her wrists and pulls them against her chest, immobilizing her. I think of how Lauren can deck even me and how scrawny Jason looks, so I assume she’s letting him keep her there. She starts to struggle and I raise my eyebrows as she can’t get away. He leans down and kisses her, Keith and I gasp and giggle as she kisses him back for a moment, and we gasp again when she yanks her arms free and shoves him back, hard.

“That can’t be good …” I murmur to Keith, he gives a mumble of agreement. She starts stomping up to us, pausing no more than a foot away, caramel-colored eyes blazing with sadness and anger. We expect her to kick us or say something mean about Jason but we go into shock when she drops down to sit in front of us. She starts to cry, and Keith and I reach our hands own to rest on her knee, rubbing reassuringly. ‘Jason must have broken up with her’ is the mutual conclusion we’ve reached.

“I … I …” she tries to talk but she’s crying hard, tears mixing with the rain running down her face and tangling in her braid. “… I’m moving next week.”


xxx Keith’s POV xxx

It turns out to be true. The bell rang just after she spoke to us, but we usher her over to Coy’s after school where she explains everything.

Her dad, as we know, teaches at the university downtown but he used to work in Chicago, where Lauren used to live before she moved here. They moved here in the first place because of her mother’s work (getting accepted to a law firm) and now they’re moving back because of her father’s. Lauren’s always said how much her parents working annoyed her, and said it was getting worse as of late. The university called them yesterday and said that the person that had filled in for her dad was a complete idiot, so they needed him back. He turned them down, but then they offered him an even higher salary, higher than what Mrs. Fath earned, so now they’re moving back next Thursday, and Lauren’s devastated.

“I mean, we’re always moving! We’ve only been here for three years!” she wails as I give her a box of Kleenex while Coy towels her hair off from the rain still lashing outside. “A-and Jason and I have been doing so good lately …” she pauses to blow her nose. “… he’s so sweet … and now I have to leave!!”

“But you can still talk on instant messaging, right? And I’m sure he’ll visit you, don’t worry.” Coy smiles and starts unbraiding her damp hair, cascading in frizzy waves over her shoulders. We’re all sitting Coy’s bed, me in front of Lauren, Coy behind her, bed littered with tissues and our wet clothes; all three of us are currently adorning various articles of Coy‘s clothing; Laur’s in a tank top that fits her perfectly and I‘m drowning in a polo with a neckline that goes halfway down my chest.

“Yeah …” she agrees moodily, fingering a Kleenex in her hand. “But what about you guys …? I’ll miss you so fucking much!”

I smile at her, trying to cheer her up. “We’ll visit every month and stay for weeks at a time … you can introduce us to all your old friends and stuff!”

She nods, cracking a small smile. “I guess that’s alright …” she admits, and Coy reaches behind himself and grabs his ever-so-manly sparkly purple hairbrush, getting to work on the tangles.

“See? It won’t be so bad. You’ll still see us all the time, and Jason too, he’s not going to leave you. And neither will we!” he assures her, grabbing detangler as well.

“I guess … AAGGH, this SUCKS!” she moans again, shaking her head. I hear Coy make a thoughtful noise, and he crawls beside her and past so he’s next to me.

“Would it cheer you up if I kissed Keith again?”

She finally grins. “It always does.”

I fidget, but it’s a special occasion or something, so I tilt to look up at Coy, who’s smiling happily. He holds my jaw and pulls up until my neck is arches and he kisses me for Lauren, brushing his tongue against my lips, sucking and licking, making a show of it. I run my hands over his chest and kiss fiercely back, probably a little more whorey than I would have done if we were in private. We break apart with a loud ‘mwah’ noise and stay holding eachother, looking at Lauren.

She’s still grinning, but a little less so. “You guys are so lucky.”

“Uh …” I pause, confused. “What?”

“You’re perfect for each other. You know that, right?” she says gently.

We both blush and I tighten my grip on Coy, looking down at my hands momentarily before looking up at him, smiling shyly. “Yeah, I know.”

xxxxxx

A little over a week later, it happens. Coy and I watch with her outside her house, all crying a little as movers carry her boxed possessions out onto a huge truck. Cam’s sitting petulantly on the front step, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands, tripping the movers as they walk by. The intriguing little boy from what seems like an eternity ago is sitting next to him, but I can’t remember his name. After short contemplation, I decide that he looks rather sad. Well, that’s expected, he’s friends with Cam for reasons I don’t understand.

“Lauren!” Mr. Fath steps outside onto the porch without his usual business suit, just jeans and a t-shirt. “We’re leaving, honey, the movers are done.” he says, not sounding too happy and I imagine that none of them really wanted to move. Lauren turns to us with a sad smile.

“I’ll tell you when we’re all moved in so you can come visit, okay? And you’d better come.” she threatens and gives us each a huge hug. We agree to visit her just as soon as we can and Coy agrees to be extra horny just for her. She seems to think it’s sweet. With one last cling, not wanting to let go of our bony shoulders, she climbs into the back seat of her family’s dark blue SUV.

Cam and that little boy walk down the driveway, stumbling as the wind starts to pick up. They stand in front of the car for a moment, talking inaudible to us, but they both look pretty upset. I might just be seeing things, but I think he leans in towards Cam … my hair obscures my vision as a particularly heavy gust of wind blows by us, and I quickly brush them away, too late to see what happened, but I guess he was whispering or something. The little boy looks happy but Cam looks pissed, flips him off and climbs into the van behind Lauren.


xxx Coy’s POV xxx

Time slowly passes, but it seems like it crawls by without Lauren. I guess it’s true that we haven’t been spending too much time with her lately, but it’s just … empty without her. We talk on msn all the time, but it’s still not the same. No one begging us to kiss, no one being cheeky and loud, no one to mother us when we’re sad.

Two weeks later, Keith and I are just outside my house, lips locked fiercely as I desperately grope for the door handle as I’ve done a thousand times. His teeth bite at my bottom lip, leaving a mark as I lean my weight on the latch and the door swings open behind us.

“SASHA!!” Keith yells out against my mouth and I pull back, raising an eyebrow and looking him over.

“You know, it’d really help if you don’t shout my sister’s name while I’m kissing you.”

He giggles and punches my arm. “I’m just checking.”

After calling out ‘mom’ and ‘Sasha’ a lot and checking all of the main floor, we meet again at the base of the stairs and I smirk.

“We’re alone …” I say lowly, and he nods.

“All alone …” he murmurs and steps closer until he’s at arms length, looking up at me with heavy eyes. “Hmm … convenient.” I lace our fingers and we slowly ascend the stairs, his free hand brushes across the cream colored banisters, marred with dirt and fingerprints after sixteen years. I keep my eyes on him, still smiling as we reach my room, shutting the door with an audible thump and click.

“What now?” he asks quietly, as has our has our habit become. I only have to think for a second before my hands find his chest, gently moving him backwards until his knees hit my bed and he sits down abruptly.

“Lie back.” I whisper, and he holds up my hands and does so. I go to lean over him, but he yelps loudly and sits up, rolling sideways.

“What the FUCK?!!” he screeches, clutching the back of his thigh. I look at the rumpled quilt that still bears his imprint and my eyes widen as a long, single rose is where his leg was. With careful fingers avoiding thorns I pick it up, shocked when my fingertips come away red.

“Are you bleeding?!” I ask in concern and he shakes his head, staring unblinkingly. “You didn’t leave this?”

“Yeah Coy, I sat on my own flower.” he rolls his eyes and snorts, rubbing his leg.

“Don’t kid …” I say nervously, staring relentlessly at the red substance that horror movies has convinced me to believe is blood. “… This isn’t funny.”

“Maybe it was Sasha? Or your mom?” he tries, chuckling at an attempt at lightening the mood.

I shake my head. “This isn’t like them … oh my god. Whoever left this was in my room …” I shiver and throw it to the ground, wiping my fingers on the back of my knee. I lie on the bed, curling into Keith with thousands of horrible scenarios boiling in my head. I knew that note wasn’t for Sasha, I knew it, it was for me, and it was a heart. It wasn’t from Keith. And now someone was in my fucking room, and this is their fucking blood on my jeans.

“Calm down, babe.” he reassures me, threading small fingers through my hair, combing it softly. “It’s not as bad as you think, they probably just threw it in. You know, because you left your window open.”

I bury my face in the crook of his neck, just lying with him in silence, too many thoughts running through my brain at once, and it makes me dizzy. I really hope no one else loves me; if I had one wish, it’d be for Keith to say that to me, and mean it.

We stay like that until the sun dips behind the houses and covers the street in darkness, and Keith’s called home.

xxxxxx

For the next few days I’m jumpy and nervous, desperately trying to find anyone that’s staring at me, but I don’t catch anyone in the act and I’ve got no leads.

When you’re agitated, everyone has their own way of taking their mind off it and calming themselves down, like cleaning, writing or listening to music. I, as I’ve recently discovered, cook incessantly. For the last three days I’ve made huge breakfasts and dinners for mom and Sasha. Mom thinks it’s wonderful but Sasha’s telling me to stop or she says she’ll get fat. I can’t help it though, because it’s calming and it takes my mind off everything, especially since I got another message; a heart drawn above my doorbell.

Right now, I’ve got a pink hello kitty apron tied around my waist, watching a pot and a pan on the stove when the phone rings. I slide across the linoleum and pick it up, answering with a polite hello.

“Hey.” a small voice sounds on the other end and I recognize it, doused in relief.

“Hi darling. What’s up?” I say back, the darling part being part joke, part sincere.

“Can I come over? Now that I’ve met Jeff, Brandon seems to think it’s okay to bring him over, and they’re busy doing things I’d rather not explain.” he pauses and hesitates. “Mom took off again.”

My breath catches in my throat, unsure of what to say to that. “S-sorry.” is the best I can come up with.

“Don’t be.” he says simply. “So can I come over?”

“Of course, I’m just making dinner, so I -”

“*click*”

I chuckle and hang up, unable to forget his immense love of all things edible. Walking back over to the stove, I poke at the sautéed mushrooms with a wooden spoon before checking the fettuccini and chicken. I tuck my hair back into a low ponytail once I’m done, more useless than ever because it’s layered and wisps fall around my face. Self conscious now, I check my reflection in the microwave, whipping the apron off and wiping away smudged eyeliner. I set the table and as I’m getting utensils, the doorbell rings, followed by three knocks.

I skid across the hardwood and open the door, instantly seized around the waist by Keith. He fists his hands in my shirt and buries his face in my chest, inhaling deeply.

“Fettuccini? What is it with your family and making that?” he looks up and me, eyes shining with childish delight.

I laugh and shrug, locking my hands together at his lower back. “It’s just awesome. Is that okay?”

He pulls my shoulders down until I’m his height and kisses me long and hard, I’m surprised (and a little disturbed) by his affinity for food, and it’s a shock that he isn’t fatter, he‘d better thank his metabolism. He lets me go and walks by me into my house, unlacing his shoes.

“It’s wonderful. The only thing I’ve eaten all day is half a bucket of chow mien.” he smiles.

That’s a frightening thought, and I find myself thinking back to the mother that’s left again. I wonder if they have enough money … I’m pretty sure the chow mien came from that place by the gas station, the one with the cockroaches, and if they’re buying food from there … that’s seriously not cool. Brandon works, sure, but Keith doesn’t and Brandon’s just a cashier, which doesn’t pay a helluva lot.

“You coming?” he alerts me of his presence, standing with a hand on the door jamb to the kitchen, smirking. “You’re gonna burn everything.”

I spaz and hurry past him to the stove, checking then turning off the heat. He takes a delicate seat on a stool at the island, placing his hands on his knees. “We’ve only got two years of high school left … do you know what you want to do?” he asks, and it catches me off guard, though I know my answer.

“A chef or a cook of some kind, I guess.” I reply, taking the mushrooms off the ring and salting them before I dump them into a decorative bowl. Keith and I talk quietly about our careers and other things like that, he says he might want to make clothes, which I think is fantastic, because he’s really good at it. I don’t take sewing, but apparently he’s first in the class, which is impressive.

Soon everything’s done, we sit down to eat. I start, but Keith hesitates.

“Aren’t your mom and Sasha coming?” he asks, looking around.

“Nope.” I smile. “Sasha’s in a play for school, so she’s been away a lot, and mom’s at work, so it’s just us.”

“Really? Your mom’s never home!” he seems surprised.

“She is sometimes, but it’s when we’re at school.” I tell him, poking mushrooms with the tip of my fork, noticing that Keith’s started wolfing it down like there’s no tomorrow. I eat slower than him and by the time he’s done twice as much as me, I’m finished my first helping and I’m full. I watch as he has thirds as well, realizing how human he looks when he eats … not that he looks like a robot at other times, but it’s just that he tends to look surreal, but when he’s licking alfredo off his plate, he seems less perfect, and I like that.

He’s finally done and he rests his head back against the chair and makes his happy little noise and smiles at me. “You should totally be a chef.”

I grin. “You’ll like any kind of food. You’re like a bottomless pit.”

He doesn’t even fight back, but he suddenly sits up a little straighter and shifts in his seat. “What now?”

My brain reels back and forth of those words and their possible implications, and his expected answer could range anywhere from going for a walk to homicide. I think I might know what he’s thinking in this case, if history serves me right. “We just ate though.” I point out.

“So? It’s not swimming, I doubt we’ll have to wait.” he grins and his chair legs squeak against the floor when he pushes away from the table. “So that’s a yes?” he asks, walking his plate to the sink.

I nod and stand before doing the same, then we walk wordlessly to my room, making sure the door’s securely shut (and barricaded with my office chair) before talking about anything.

“I have an idea …” he murmurs, blushing and fidgeting with my quilt after we’ve kissed for an eternity. He sits against the wall next to my bed, legs splayed in front of him. I lie next to him, head under my pillow, legs under his. My eyebrows raise.

“What kind of idea …?” I say, skeptic but intrigued. He doesn’t answer, just fidgets and blushes an adorable red, so I sit up and crawl next to him, brushing hair out of the way before showering his neck and shoulder in butterfly kisses.

“C’mon, tell me,” I say quietly. “I’ll do it, I promise.” though I might have to go against that if it’s overly gross, but that line is faaar away. I think I’m calming him a bit, his hands come up to carefully play with my necklaces under my curtain of hair. I kiss lower across his collarbone, nosing gently.

“Um … it’s a little embarrassing …” he mumbles, and I find it very cute. I say quiet encouragements into his chest and soon he puts his hand on the top of my head and signals for me to look up, I do so and he leans down to whisper in my ear.

“I … I read this somewhere …” he hesitates but begins quietly telling me what he was thinking. Some things I’d never heard him say before, and though I can’t see him clearly, he must be blushing like mad. It doesn’t take long (it’s not a long idea) before he sits back, hands clasped on his chest, staring at me thoughtfully. My suspicions were correct, he’s blushing a lot, probably more than what‘s healthy. It’s a slap in the face, a sort of reminder about how much things have changed … if this were a few months ago, I would never have thought that he knew about that stuff, let alone he’d say them out loud and talk about doing them. I think I’m getting kind of hard just thinking about it.

“What did you read that in?” I giggle. Of course I’ve heard of what he wants, but I’m curious as to where he did.

“Um, today when you were making dinner, one of Sasha’s Cosmo was lying on the counter …” he keeps blushing. “It was just on the cover … I-I didn’t go through it … too much. Well, a little … just half …” he pauses and scowls at me. “Oh fine, I read the whole damn article. But it’s your damn fault, you took too long with the fucking pasta!” he cries and buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorrrryyy ….”

I put my arms around him with a chuckle. “Don’t be embarrassed …”

“But I am.” he says into his hands with a pitiful tone. “I’m a perv.” he looks up at me suddenly curious. “Is it normal … to want to do that kind of thing?”

I raise my eyebrows and shift a bit. “Uh, being gay itself isn’t exactly normal.”

He frowns.

I quickly try to say something more supportive. “Well, I just mean … yeah, it’s normal to want to do things like that to the person you l-” I hesitate. “- care about.”

He blinks several times, not looking too pleased. “Why’d you pause?”

“Hm?” I try to feign innocence, but I know I’ve done that before, and he might be catching on.

“You hesitated, you said ‘the person you lll-’ then you said care about … but you weren’t going to.” he narrows his eyes a little bit, and I almost want to shut mine because I think he’s staring into my soul.

“S-sorry … I was just going to say …” my heart thumps painfully and my throat feels a little dry. I don’t know why this is so hard to say, but I’d better get it out now.

I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. He must know what I’m about to say.

“ThatIloveyou.” I blurt and wait with baited breath for his answer.

He blinks once, twice, face frighteningly impassive. The lump in my throat won’t go away, it’s lodged as long as he keeps staring at me, I hope I don’t look desperate … but I’m pretty sure I do. He doesn’t smile, but he sits up and leans towards me, frail fingers brush my jaw and tighten when he kisses me. His lips move in an unusually slow glide, and I’m scared to kiss back. He didn’t answer … that means … oh.

I can’t swallow and I can’t move, I feel absolutely sick. He doesn’t love me back. I kiss him slowly and sigh against his perfect lips. If he doesn’t love me, then is this over? I savor this kiss in case it doesn’t happen again. Even his spit tastes sweet and his tongue feels like wet velvet against mine. My chest twists when he pulls away and I stare at him sadly.

“That was nice.” I whisper, feeling on the verge of tears.

He looks surprised in that owlish way he has. He doesn’t look sad, which is even more frightening. My nerves almost get the better of me and I want to run outside but my feet are like lead. “I love you.” I repeat, feeling like I need to say more like my mouth’s falling down the stairs. “I’m sorry if you don’t love me, but I love you so much and I can’t change it. I just do.”

He moves so quickly I can’t even see the moment when he does, but he’s suddenly on me and I’m on my back. The perfect lips I was kissing only moments earlier drop down again and plant wet kisses on my throat and down my clothed chest; his delicate hands lift my shirt.

“I do too …” he murmurs, raising his head to line our noses up, a sincere smile on his glossed lips. “I love you.”

A freezing cold wave of relief douses me over and I rub my hands over his back and suck his lips gently, so careful and afraid that he’ll disappear and I’ll wake up alone on my bed in the dark.

“Ow!” he squeals when I pinch him, then breaks away and glares. “What was that for?”

“You’re still here …” I whisper, breathless with amazement, sliding my hands along his hips. “You’re here … I’m not dreaming, you … you love me …”

“Of course I do,” he giggles like a little girl and straddles me, hands pushing my shirt up to my collarbone, smiling at my exposed chest. “I just hesitated to get you back for calling me a bottomless pit.” he says, I groan unpleasantly but can’t help but laugh. His fingertips touch my nipples, and I draw in a breath. “You’re not dreaming, I love you.”

I shiver, so completely happy excited loved and horny. He dips his head and bites at one of my nipples, I moan and squirm as he sucks hard, toying with the other one. My breath hitches as tremors shoot through me, and I slowly let my eyes fall shut, stroking his thighs with my hands. He sits back and eases my shirt off once and for all, dropping it on the floor next to my bed. After staring at me longer than needed, he takes his own off, letting it fall on mine, almost symbolic.

It’s nearing the end of winter, the sky outside is quickly darkening, our only source of light is the small green oriental lamp on my nightstand, casting an orange glow over us, making the curtains shine as they dance in the breeze. Keith pauses, taking everything in before easing off my hips and sliding my black jeans down along with dark blue boxer briefs. I divert my eyes once I’m naked in front of him and though he’s seen me naked (only once) before, it’s frightening to know that he’s judging me, whether he admits it or not.

“You know you’re beautiful, don’t you?” he smiles gently, bracing a hand on my chest as he pulls his own jeans off, which makes me feel a bit better. He just stares at me, apparently waiting for an answer.

After a second, I find the words. “You seem to think so.” is all I can say. He squirms a little, and I think we’re hypnotized in each other, and I’m only brought back when the bedsprings creak.


xxx Keith’s POV xxx

I smile down at him, settling into his lap, every ounce of shame and nervousness drained out the soles of my feet the moment he told me he loved me in such a cute rushed voice accompanied by flushed cheeks and twisting fingers. “So, you ready?”

“Yup.” is his simple reply but it feels so eloquent, and I can’t imagine how nice he’d be to me if we were actually having sex. He’ll never let anything get too heavy and awkward, it’ll always have that fun behind the lust, and I love him for it.

“Who’s … pinned?” I ask, fiddling my hands against his chest, giving a nervous laugh.

“You, obviously.” he says as if there was no contest. I wrinkle my nose.

“Obviously?”

“Well, yeah … I outweigh you by at least twenty pounds and I’m eight inches taller.” he giggles. “Of course you’re pinned.”

I shift agitatedly, not sure if I’m okay with that. Sure, I like being … dominated or something, but I’d like to think that I don’t have to be, I’d like the option to be top anyways. I decide to let it go, not wanting to ruin a moment as romantic as this. He fucking LOVES me.

“Damn.” I joke, not really wanting to have it any other way. He smiles and kneels, pushing me onto by back with a never ceasing smile on his lips, but instead of climbing over me, he crawls up and puts his knees on either side of my head. Fear rises in me like a tidal wave, but he stops it when he licks me. My lips tremble the minute his close carefully around the head of my dick, and I groan as I lick at his, hands rubbing the back of his thighs.

He mumbles something I can’t hear and I realize that I start thinking of the weirdest things when we’re doing stuff like this. I’m practically sucking his balls and I’m not even thinking about that, just about what might happen if I called him a cocksucker in front of his mom. She might just brush it off as a childish insult, or she might realize I’m serious …

I pause in my thoughts to moan when Coy’s hand ceases stroking me and creeps up my thigh, starting to grab at my ass. It’s not like he never does that, but not at times like this and it’s not like it’s creeping me out but it’s weird and new and he hasn’t done this before when we’re doing this kind of thing and --

I swallow hard and make a long keening groan against his cock, because before I can bite him or even object, his finger’s inside me.

Not at all sure what to think, I squirm a little, slowing down in my ministrations. I feel his lips move off my dick and I can feel and hear his heavy breathing on my skin. “Y-you don’t mind?” he says nervously, not moving an inch from where he is. I try desperately not to tense, but I can’t help but do just that.

“I - I… I don’t … I mean, I …” I stutter helplessly, talking against his thigh. I think this is such foreign territory, and I don’t know what I should be feeling or thinking or doing right now. Is this such a big deal as I think it is? Does he think of it as a big deal? My mind’s going at a million miles a minute.

“Keep going, I’m close …” he says a little breathlessly, a short hitch in his voice. “… and just relax.”

I close my eyes and try to do as he tells me, but I think I’m too scared for my own good. I take his cock as deep into my mouth as I can, trying to take my mind off everything above all, not sure if I want him to stop what he’s doing or encourage him, but whatever I decide, I don’t think it’ll be in time because the longer he’s touching me, the tighter my stomach coils and the more responsive my body becomes.

I suck nearly crudishly at his dick and feel the beginnings of disgustingness drip against my tongue, knowing he wasn’t lying, and his hips jerk down hard. No different than before, I choke when he comes moaning and because I’m on my back, that evil stuff drips out of my mouth and down my chin as I hear him scream somewhere in the back of my mind. I don’t think about getting his come out of my mouth as I did last time, I let it stay there and even swallow some, but the weird thing is that I’m not disgusted by it.

All because he starts moving again. He presses his finger deeper, then back out, curled ever so slightly and I scream, half because that hurt a bit, and half because that felt so good. I’m panting loudly against his thigh through my teeth, eyes shut tight, and I squirm and move back on him, wanting him to do that again. His other fingers splay out and he does as I’d hoped by sliding his index finger farther in and out even faster and more times than before, and I don’t know whether to feel sick or so horny I can’t even think.

Obviously, I settle with the second one. I thrust back on him a little, pathetically shaking after such small movements, and I come so hard that for a moment I can’t remember my own name. He goes harder as I ride out my orgasm, groaning and bucking against him in complete ecstasy. My come hits his chest and I might stick to him when I arch my back, and we’re both covered in each other.

He pulls out and rolls off me, turning around and falling back against his quilt bunched behind my head, curling over the foot of the mattress. He’s close enough that his hair brushes against my cheek, I can just see it out of the corner of my eye, a red smudge marring my view. About five inches of our bare hips are touching along with our shoulders, and we’re both sticky. His breathing is a little heavy and I can still hear it even now, mingling in the silence of his room. A car goes by on the street outside, we stay silent for at least three full minutes before he swallows hard and speaks.

“That was pretty cool.” he mumbles, and I break out in laughter. Not caring about his sheets getting dirtied, I flip onto him, burying my face into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle my giggles. Coy is such a retard, we were just doing something that seemed so intense and part of him was just up my fucking ass, and all he has to say is ‘cool’. He’s such a moron, but he’s so fucking loveable that I don’t even mind.

I tuck my arms against his sides as my laughing slowly dims down. Our bodies are wet with sweat and come but nothing matters anymore, the world doesn’t matter. I breath in his skin and part my lips ever so slightly, licking my tongue against him almost by accident. We stay silent for a while longer before I decide to say something.

“You are such a dork.” I say quietly, shifting on his bed to let my bare legs lay against his, mine only reaching halfway down his calves. I’m smiling and I hope he can feel it.

“It takes a dork to love a dork.” he says before placing a long kiss in my hair, brushing his fingers against the naked skin over my jutting pelvic bone. “But I still love you.”

I squirm happily against him, reaching behind me to haul a corner of the quilt around the two of us, only succeeding in covering our waists. “Love you too …” I mutter a little sleepily, ignoring a throb of pain from somewhere south of the border. “… you sappy romantic pussy.”

He tries to give me a light punch in the arm, but just pinches me half-heartedly. “Are you tired?” he asks, not perusing farther with my insult.

“Mmhhmmm …” I hum into his chest contentedly.

He tries to protest, but he turns off his lamp as he does it, bathing us in a dark sort of orange light coming from the street lamp outside, casting bars over the floor from the window panes. “It’s only eight …”

“So …? We’ll be early for school, for once.” I decide and snuggle further into him with a huge smile.


xxx Coy’s POV xxx

When I wake up the next morning, we’re still facing the wrong end of the bed, cuddled together, cocooned in my quilt. Keith’s still asleep, face pressed snugly into my chest, deep even breaths warming my cold skin. I crane my neck to turn around and realize it’s freezing because the window’s open, curtains fluttering in the breeze. I rub my cheek over the top of his head and whisper a quite declaration of love, the only one who hears it is the yellow headed black bird sitting on the gutter outside my window.

Keith’s so comfortable and soft and this is so perfect, I want to stay like this until I die from starvation. His hair smells faintly of mango shampoo, but more of that blatantly human smell since it’s unwashed. He’s so tiny and frail … as usual, I’m afraid of breaking him. He’s like a china doll, I have to be so careful … he’s so beautiful … I close my eyes and try to sleep so we can stay here forever, but Keith begins to stir. He raises his head and rubs at his eye with his fist, looking up at me with a little frown.

“G’morning …” he whispers and I’m forced to open my eyes and I smile at him.

“Morning.” I say back and tighten my arm around him, pulling him into a long gentle kiss. “Let’s keep sleeping, this is so comfy …” I bury my face in his neck, trying to convince him with kisses.

“Well … we should, um …” he tries to get his train of thought back on the tracks, but my fingertips start tracing his hipbone. He blushes pink and starts fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. I shush him and kiss from his jaw to his lips.

“Coy, wait …” he mumbled and tilts his head back to half-heartedly get away from me. He looks back to the clock above my closet, but looks back to me quickly. “We’ll be late for school.” he decides.

“Fuck school …” I kiss down his throat and across his tiny bare shoulder, holding his upper arms in my hands to keep him from moving away. He whimpers softly.

“Nooo c’mon, I’ve got a test to -” I cut him off when I wedge my thigh tightly between his legs.

“Coy, c’mon! We can’t just skip out because you’re hornyyy-” but he swallows a cry when I dip my hand under the quilt and wrap my fingers around his dick.

“S-stop it! We’re gonna be laaaate …” and his words die down when I run a finger over his slit. He groans and heaves his chest, reaching down under the quilt to brush his nervous fingers against my dick. I close my eyes and cover his body with mine, breathing into his hair as we touch each other with soft strokes, quickly having decided to forget about school for the moment. He pushes his hips into my hand as a silent beg, lips parting as he takes a sharp breath between his teeth.

His fingers squeeze me tighter for a second, making my body jerk unexpectedly into his. I think I hear him laugh breathlessly before he moans something into my ear. “C-can you, um … do that thing again …?”

“Oh …” I say playfully, nipping his jaw. “… you mean this?” and I reach my right hand underneath him, slipping a finger inside him with just a little resistance. He gasps out loud and clings to me and with my lips on his neck he already tastes of sweat. He squirms like mad, alternately digging back into the quilt behind him or pushing up into me like he can’t make up his mind on which is better. I pull out, then back in, having to get used to this myself because it’s seriously weird but so hot, and he likes it more than I thought he would.

He’s rambling some absolute nonsense into my shoulder, pausing in clenching his fist in my quilt to pull me down further. A lot of his nonsense is sounding like curses and ‘oh god’s tangled into moans and words, none of which I recognize. Through all this he keeps his fingers sliding and tugging at my cock, maybe not as whole-heartedly as I’d have liked, but it doesn’t matter to me; he’s proven that he’s not selfish.

He’s started to make a bit more sense in his rambling, still trying to pull me closer with his free hand. I hear more swear words followed by something about dick, then with a dig of nails into my ribcage, he hisses something I can understand. “A-another one … right … NOW …”

A shiver sparks down my spine and I nod feverishly, unable to keep from smiling. I rest my cheek against the top of his head and shift a little. Trying to calm my breathing, I pull my finger all the way out of him, eliciting a whimper, and push back in with my middle finger as well. It’s predictably tighter and it sort of makes me stop breathing for a second.

I didn’t think he’d take it the way he does. His spine curls as he tries to draw his knees higher, heels slipping on the sheets. He bites his bottom lip until it’s raw and chapped, and I don’t move until he’s stopped fidgeting. I look down at him, murmuring into his ear. “Are you alright …?” I ask out of genuine concern; his body pulses hard and hot around me.

His voice doesn’t sound as painful as his body looks. “… Really … close …” is all he gets out before he starts pumping me even harder and pressing back on my hand. I moan despite myself and move faster, after only a few strokes far inside him he starts to tremble and bite at my shoulder, body getting rigid and tense. His come drenches my arm and stomach even before he screams a few seconds later, almost as if his actions are delayed. He tries to dig his heels into the bed and arch his back, but he fails and grinds against me with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, desperately seeking any kind of friction to ride it out.

He looks so gorgeous when he comes, so pure and unbelievably erotic and sometimes he doesn’t even know it. He’s beautiful without even trying, and I start thinking about him and his body and the fact that he’s coming all over me and I can’t stand it any longer and I do the same, hunching my back and groaning, nowhere near as delicate or sexy as he is when he does this.

I brace myself over him and swallow hard, a short break in the sound of my heavy breathing, and I carefully pull my fingers out of his body; it makes him whimper again. I contemplate licking my arm clean but as much as I want to, I don’t wanna gross Keith out, so I wipe it on my sheets (that I have to wash myself now, because there’s no way one person could have done this much … damage, so to speak.) Neither of us speak for the longest while, I lie face down next to him with my face in a clean section of blanket, trying to get my heart to stop beating so fast.

“I …” he finally croaks out, still panting quite hard. “… love you … so hard.” and flips over to kiss me. I giggle into his mouth and cheerily trace my tainted fingers over the sharp bumps of his spine as he’s bent over me.

Without warning, the office chair skitters towards us as someone opens the door, and we’re too dumbstruck to move or cover our blatant nakedness.

Fortunately, it’s Sasha and she’s got a hand over her eyes with a very displeased frown on her lips. “Get the fuck up, it’s eight fifteen!” she barks at us and steps out of the room as quickly as she came in, almost slamming the door behind her. We giggle like mad and head for the bathroom.

xxxxxxxxxx

Though Keith’s very good at taking my mind off things, at school it’s a different story. I’m jumpy and worried and when I literally run into someone near the end of the day, I scream.

“Holy shit, calm down.” the boy says, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder in the midst of the people bustling around us. I fiddle with my own hands and eventually look up at him; it turns out to be James (I don’t know his last name), standing in front of me with a bright blue polo and spiked blonde hair. He’s pretty well known for being gay in our school, not in the same way Keith and I are, but in a more promiscuous stereo-typed kind of way, more for being GAY than dating. But … if I remember correctly, Damian said that the two of them are going out again.

“So, how’s Damian?” I ask a bit, curious as to how he’s doing lately because he’s been quiet in cooking. He said how wonderful James was, so I figured I’d ask while he’s here.

“How the hell should I know? That little bitch hasn’t called me in months.” he says coldly, looking at me accusingly since I assume he heard the rumours floating around before the whole Keith thing.

“What?!“ I say, confused. “But … he told me you guys got back together!”

“Um, think again, he broke up with me months ago, we don’t even talk anymore.” he huffs, this is obviously a touchy subject for him, but I don’t fucking get it.

“No no no, Damian just told me a few weeks ago!” I protest and when James tries to turn away, I grab his upper arm, thin enough for me to be able to close my whole hand around it. “So you really haven’t talked to him in months?”

“Yeah. Really. Even if we did, I wouldn’t take him back.” and with that, he wrenches his arm out of my grip and struts back down the hallway, leaving me there to spaz. He hasn’t even talked to him?! What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! Why would he lie, this doesn’t make any sense! Damian told me that they were back together, he even made a point of saying how wonderful he was!

Maybe I’m thinking too much into this, but something horrible spikes me for a moment. The rose … the notes … I swallow hard. The blood. Was it Damian? I start walking to my locker, clutching a book in my arms, barely thinking about my path. I’d never considered him as someone who would do that, he doesn’t like me anymore. He hasn’t tried to hit on me, he hasn’t asked to come over or anything. I barely ever see him in the hallways anymore, it doesn’t seem right that he’d do that.

I feel sick and a pounding headache slices through my head. Keith bounds up to me when I’m near our locker and grins like a little girl. “Hi!” he says cheerfully, rolling back on the balls of his feet, looking so cute I can’t stand it. “Guess what?”

“What …?” I reply, twisting in my combination before pulling the locker open and grabbing my backpack.

“I got a ninety on my science test!” he smiles proudly, because I know how much his grades mean to him, despite how they’ve been slipping lately because of me. Mine have been doing the same on some level, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, which doesn’t leave a lot of time for other things like homework.

“Congrats …” I try to smile back but I feel like shit all of a sudden and I massage my temples.

“Hrm? Are you alright?” he blinks up at me with the most adorable doe eyes I’ve ever seen and puts the back of his head against my forehead. “… No fever …”

“Yeah, it’s just a headache …” I tell him, trying to smile again and I succeed this time. He frowns which make me feel better in an odd way because it means he’s worrying about me. And that’s really nice.

“D’you want me to come over? I’ll take care of you.” he grins, but I just hold a door open for him as he steps outside.

“No thanks, I’m probably just gonna sleep, sorry …” I run a hand through my hair. “Besides, I must look like hell.”

His hand slides down my arm to my hand and gently laces our fingers, silver rings clinking together. “You always look gorgeous … but if you don’t want me to come over, that’s alright, I understand.”

I’m a little nervous about holding hands in public; even though everyone already knows about us, it’s still unsettling, and part of me expects to get egged at any second. Still … his hand is so soft and tiny, I’ll deal with some glares to be able to hold it. We walk across the fields and down our little forest path, quietly talking about unimportant school things, and I refrain from telling him about Damian, he’ll only worry. When we get to the junction of our streets, the very same spot where we shared our first kiss at, I hold both his hands in both of mine and kiss him again, just as soft and innocent as the first time but longer, warmer and not for science by any means.

He pulls away with heavy lidded eyes and an appreciative smile. “I love you …” he whispers so quietly that I can barely hear him, but I’m glad he’s so quiet because it’s so eloquent too. I kiss him again because I’ve decided that I have to kiss him every single time he says that. “I love you too …” I say against his lips, and they brush mine as I do so. He nods and sucks his lips a little, looking up at me with beautiful green bedroom eyes that I can just barely resist.

He tells me to feel better when we part our separate ways down the street. I don’t say anything in return because he knows I mean well and there’s no need to shout. I reach my house just as the wind picks up, my hair tangled as I step inside.

“Hey Coy!” my mom’s voice sounds from the kitchen. “Is Keith here too?”

“No.” I yawn and kick my boots off, opting to keep my hoodie on because it’s a little bit cold in here. I slowly walk into the kitchen, running a hand through my now unruly hair to dissolve tangles. Mom’s at the kitchen table with the newspaper, whizzing through the crossword as easy as a child’s puzzle.

“How was your day?” he asks after a moment, looking up from the paper. I sigh and skid to the fridge to root through it for an afternoon snack of some kind.

“Puzzling.” I reply truthfully, grabbing a cheese string, too tired and lazy to cook. “I’m just gonna go to my room, I’m pretty tired.” I say with a small smile, turning to her.

“Okay honey, be a hermit if you want.” she teases cheerily, turning back down to the crossword as I slouch out of the kitchen and up the stairs, increasingly sluggish the longer I’m standing. I reach my room and shut the door behind me, flopping onto my bed so quickly that I nearly miss. My feet scuff against the hardwood floor as I bury my face in the thick plaid quilt, breathing in the linen scent of fresh laundry since I put them in the washing machine before I left for school this morning.

I get the strength to pull my legs up and I shift into a lying position, tilting my head so I can comfortably stare out the window. Rain patters against the glass, just a light mist, barely audible. The wind is roaring loudly and if the window wasn’t shut, the curtains would be whipping about. The sky is an odd layered sort of grey, almost black in some places, light slate in others.

I sigh quietly, time alone giving me time to think, which isn’t always a good thing. My thoughts touch on the blood and notes to Keith and to Damian. They cross over and twirl inside my brain, connecting with images and the memories of the feel of both their lips on mine, one bold, one faded. I start wondering what I should do about this ‘admirer’, if anything. The now-wilted rose still sits, probably, under my bed collecting dust and slowly dying, just the way I want it. No way am I looking at something this person gave me, I’m not accepting it.

The only person I want to give me roses is Keith, because he’s the only one I’m interested in. I’m really not trying to convince myself, I know I love him. But … then what? If I were your average straight teenage boy, I might say marriage. But I’m not straight, and I never will be. Besides, we’re only sixteen … there’s no way I’m thinking about that yet …

Then, I think, he’s going to break up with me some day. The very thought of that makes me absolutely sick to my stomach, but it’s going to happen nonetheless. First love’s never work out, it’s stupid to think that this one would … I still don’t like the idea of Keith not loving me, it might be my weak stomach, or just the pure thought of it, but it’s terrible. I don’t even want that to be an option.

In trying not to think about Keith, I end up not thinking about anything and I fall asleep.

xxxxxxxxxx

Keith isn’t going to break up with me, I realize, when he climbs into my bed later that night. I’m sleepy and groggy, so I simply scootch to make room and shush him when he tries to speak. I mumble his name with a sleepy smile, eyes still closed as he lies next to me where my body was, and I hope he’s relishing in the warmth.

I shouldn’t have assumed it was Keith.


xxx Keith’s POV xxx

Sasha smiles serenely and lets me inside, backed by two giggling girls, neither of which I recognize. “You guys had better not …” she hesitates, speaking in a quiet tone. It’s after ten, so I figure Mrs. Russel is asleep. “… do anything.” she remarks, a hint of disgust evident.

“We miiight,” I grin and unlace my shoes, leaving them near the front door as I slowly climb the stairs. It’s dark, but I know this house better than I know my own and I make my way to his room with no trouble. He’s been so sweet and loving lately so I figured I’d repay the favor. He said he felt a bit sick, so I figured I’d cheer him up by trekking through the wind and rain to cuddle him in his bed. He loves stuff like that.

I reach his door, bracing a hand on the jamb before turning softly with the other one, making sure to be quiet; if I wake him, all my fun is ruined. His room’s nearly pitch black, curtains drawn to block the streetlamp. I slowly approach his bed, careful of creaking floorboards. I’m about to crawl into his bed, but I freeze.

He isn’t alone.

I choke on my tongue and stare at the half naked person in Coy’s bed that isn’t Coy. I can’t breathe. I can’t think, I can’t even cry. Lying next to the only person I’ve ever really loved, the boy I gave my innocence and very nearly my goddamn virginity to, is Damian Beech. Coy’s lying on his back, deep even breaths signalling sleep and Damian’s on his side, facing away from me, but I know it’s him. Sheets are thrown just below the bastards waist, exposing a bare finely muscled back to my view, and it makes me fucking sick.

I don’t wake them. I don’t get angry or sad, I don’t scream or hit them. I slowly turn around and pad out of his room, shutting the door behind me as I step back out into the hallway and down the stairs. Sasha doesn’t notice me leave, her and her friends are back in the living room. I tie my shoes and I open the door. Only when I’m outside do I start to cry. It isn’t raining anymore, it’s just windy and damp as I walk away from his house and down the opposite side of the street, away from my house too. I sob loud and brokenly, my chest heaves and it hurts more the longer I think about it.

He might have been lying this whole time. This might be a new thing. He might have never broken up with that bastard in the first place. He might have been thinking of Damian when he did those things to me. He might love him more than he loves me. He might not love me at all. We might not even be friends anymore. I know he's had sex with Damian before, he's made that clear, but I didn't really think that he was serious ... The thought that he isn't a virgin makes me sick.

My throat constricts as I walk along an unfamiliar street, raising a hand to slick my hair away from my eyes. My chest physically hurts and my vision’s so blurred from tears that I can’t even see my own feet, I don’t try to brush them away, it’s not worth it. The sidewalk ends where I’m walking and dips into a gully, so I cross to the other side of the street where it starts again. Still crying hard, I close my eyes in an attempt to calm down.

Now in later years I might blame this on being blinded by rage or weighed down with suicidal tendencies, but maybe it was just that one-in-a-hundredth time. I don’t see the headlights coming until it’s too late.



WHAT HAVE I DONE LOLOLOL?!!?





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