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Just One of Those Things Ch. 02

By: cforester44



Jack

It was early Friday evening and I was going out to a little blues club near campus. I usually avoid crowds but I had it on good authority that Julian Monaco would be there. I gave myself a final once over in the mirror and headed out the door to my fifth story walk up. I was on the last flight of stairs when my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

There was a long silence and I was about to hang up. "Hi, Jack. It's Vince."

I came to a stop in my building's lobby. "Hey. What's going on?"

Another pause. "Well, you remember when you told me to call you? And I thought..." he drifted off. Even over the phone I could tell he was pacing. "You know, it's Friday night, this probably isn't a good time. I'm sorry. Maybe another..."

"No, no." I cut him off. "I was just going to stay in and watch T.V. anyway. Do you want to meet somewhere to talk?"

"Um...yeah, I'd like that. Why don't you give me your address and I'll come over?"

I knew Vince was trying to be polite by not making me go out of my way. But he wasn't going to be comfortable opening up in someone else's space. Or a public space for that matter, given the subject material.

"You know, why don't I come to you?"

"No, you don't need to do that..." He was wavering.

"I'll tell you what. I haven't eaten yet, so if you feed me we'll call it even."

"Well, okay." he sounded relieved. "So long as it's not an inconvenience."

"Not at all." He gave me his address and I hung up with a final reassurance. Well, it looked like Project Julian was taking the back burner once again.

************

That first night Vince ended up talking for five hours straight. Even then he only stopped because he got hoarse. He had a lifetime's worth of internal conflict that he had never been able to voice before, and even I was surprised how much he really needed to get it out.

His father, not surprisingly, took up the bulk of our conversation. Vince's mother had died in a car accident when he was four, so his father was the only parent he had ever really known. After his mother's death his father could have taken the easy route and left his sons to the care of nannies and boarding schools, but instead he devoted himself to them completely - their education, their health, their emotional development, their moral values. Vince and his brothers became his primary concern, above all others.

From a very young age Vince's father was the central figure in his life, his hero, his role model, his estimation of what a man should be, and Vince's resulting dedication was nothing short of astounding. His single greatest goal in life was to make his father proud, but in his mind he had already failed. He was a liar and a cheat, and a liability to everything he believed in. That poor guy was going to crash and burn someday, and the more I thought about it the more it got to me. All the more so because there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.

Vince was reluctant at first, but became comfortable with me quickly. I could tell he was surprised that I was such a good listener. Granted, I know that I don't exactly come off as the nurturing type. When he asked me about it I told him about the LGBT group where I volunteered. It was a campus organization but also took members from the neighboring state and community colleges, helping kids adjust to their new environment and providing a sympathetic ear to those coming from difficult backgrounds. A similar group of people had really helped me out when I started college (I didn't tell Vince that part), so I understood its value.

Recently an unorganized assortment of hecklers (I didn't call them protestors because that implies that they had values) had started showing up outside of the building where the group met. The school administration said they couldn't do anything about it, and, even though we were well aware it would make things worse, it was damned hard at times to keep things from coming to blows. In a reversal of roles, Vince spent the better part of a week letting me vent my frustration and anger to him. The hecklers still showed up on a fairly regular basis, but, surprisingly, having Vince actually made it a lot more manageable.

Before long I was spending several evenings a week at Vince's apartment, and not just as a counselor and tutor. Over the course of just a few weeks I was surprised to realize we had actually become really good friends.

It had started one Sunday afternoon when Vince was still floundering through the assigned cases for the next day, but I was getting fidgety to get home and watch the Pats game. Vince noticed and suggested that I stay and watch it at his place. We had ended up in front of the T.V. with a bowl of popcorn and a couple of Cokes. Vince cheered for the Jets, not because he actually liked them (I had seen him more than once in a Giants jersey), but just to irk me. To my embarrassment and Vince's amusement I didn't realize it until the third quarter. Being the mature adult I was I poured the leftover popcorn down the back of his shirt.

************

It was Friday night and I was at Vince's apartment for the third time that week. Vince needed all the study time he could get, so I was filling out internship applications for him while he poured over the day's notes. Several of the forms asked for his full name.

"Vince?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"What's your middle name?"

"Archibald."

"No, seriously."

"Archibald."

When I looked up at his face I saw that he was serious. I burst out laughing. "Vincent Archibald Tomlison. Oh my God, you poor bastard."

I already teased him mercilessly about being named after Vincent Price. A couple weeks ago I had even tricked him into watching The Masque of the Red Death. Ever since he has insisted on screening every movie I picked out. This was just too good.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "What's your middle name then?"

"I don't have one."

Vince shot me an incredulous look. "What do you mean you don't have one?"

"My full legal name is Jack Ulman. That's what it says on my birth certificate. You would not believe what it took to explain that to the bar examiners."

My birth had been a difficult one, and my mother had been too stoned on painkillers to remind my over-stressed father that my name was supposed to be John Anthony. "Jack" went on the birth certificate, and they never bothered to correct it.

"How can you not have a middle name?"

"How can your middle name be Archibald?"

"It's a family name."

"Well, that's boring. Not the name of some fifties science fiction movie star?"

Vince groaned. "Don't start with the Vincent Price thing again." He tried to change the subject. "So, your actual name is Jack? Not a nickname for John?"

"Certainly," I retorted in an eerie Vincent Price imitation. Over the last few weeks I had gotten pretty good, if I said so myself. "But a name is nothing more than a mask, and what mask will hide you from the cold grasp of the grave? Bwah-ha-ha-ha!" I curled my fingers and laughed demonically.

"That never gets old, does it?" He asked with a forced straight face.

"Nope."

I finished the applications at the same time he finished cleaning up his notes. Today's lesson had been pretty straightforward stuff, and we had finished with the other classes earlier. A few weeks ago this would have been my cue to head home, but now it didn't even enter my mind. It was only 6:30 and I wasn't going anywhere. Vince already had the take-out menus.

"We got pizza, Thai, Greek, Chinese..."

"For the love of God, not Chinese." Vince had only been to my apartment a couple of times, but once would be enough to know that the grease from the Chinese restaurant on the ground floor saturated the entire building. If I never smelled another fried duck it would be too soon.

Vince grinned at me and I realized he had been teasing. I had to give it to him, he could turn the tables when he wanted to.

"Don't you ever cook?" I scolded him.

"Hell no. I'm not spending what free time I have standing over a stove."

"Greek then. I had pizza for lunch. And breakfast." I didn't feel too guilty letting Vince buy me dinner almost every night. I could charge a lot more for tutoring than he spent on a pizza or order of falafels, so I figured he was still coming out ahead.

I scanned through Vince's sizable DVD collection, which consisted almost entirely of action, horror, and sci-fi, heavy on the gratuitous violence. Our taste in movies was practically identical.

It had been a long week, and I was still stressed out about those assholes harassing my kids at the support group, so I figured I deserved a little entertainment. I picked out the most ridiculous movie I could find, The Core, a natural disaster movie that makes Armageddon look like the model of plausibility.

"Wait, let's see it," Vince hollered from the kitchen when he heard the DVD player open.

I rolled my eyes and held up the DVD. "You're never going to trust me again, are you?"

"Absolutely not. What do you want to eat?"

"The least greasy thing on the menu."

Vince ordered and then plopped next to me on the couch. When I first started coming over he would take a chair rather than share the couch, but seemed to have grown comfortable with my close proximity. Maybe a little too much so.

The entertaining thing about watching movies with Vince wasn't the movies, but Vince himself. He would keep up this goofy Mystery Science Theatre-esqe commentary that was infinitely more entertaining than the movie itself. It should have been annoying, but instead I found it hilarious.

By the time Aaron Eckhart was demonstrating how the Earth's magnetic field works by blowtorching a piece of fruit Vince was well and truly worked up, and I was lying on my side, laughing so hard I could barely breathe.

"You know," Vince said, "my brothers would usually have gagged me by now."

I was still out of breath so I just shook my head. It had been a very long time since I had so much fun with someone.

When the movie finished neither of us were ready to call it a night, so Vince put on The Terminator.

I gave a disappointed sigh that he had actually put on a good movie. But now that he wasn't constantly pointing out plot holes it was much easier to see how fidgety he was getting.

I had started noticing Vince's odd behavior a couple weeks ago. The restlessness, subconscious invasion of my personal space, the heated looks out of the corner of his eye when he thought I wasn't looking. He was getting the itch again, and in record time from what I understood. I knew it was my fault, that I had pushed things too far with the flirting, revving him up with nowhere to go. At this rate it wouldn't be long before he broke. And then what?

I was starting to get anxious about the idea of Vince going out and fucking some complete stranger. He might be a good judge of character, but he wasn't a mind reader. Some of the worst ones, the real psychos, are the hardest to see through. Vince had been very, very lucky so far to not have any negative experiences, but I wouldn't count on it lasting forever.

Which inevitably got an idea going in my head.

Vince was desperate for sexual contact. But it didn't have to be with some potentially dangerous stranger who could hurt him, out him, or worse. I was safe and available. I knew what he needed and could give it to him no strings attached. And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

I tried to keep my own feelings out of the equation, but there was no denying I was seriously lusting after Vince, and had been since the first time I jacked off about him. It had definitely not been the last. To tell the truth he had become something of a distraction in that department, but try as I might he had completely usurped the spot that Julian had once held in my fantasies.

I knew that he might very well turn me down. Some guys get weirded out by the idea of casual sex with a friend. Not to mention that physically he was way out of my league. But I wanted him to know he had the option if he needed it.

I figured this was as good a time as any to make my offer. At the rate he was working himself up I was afraid to keep putting it off.

"Vince?"

"Mmm."

"I've noticed that you've been acting kind of...odd...lately."

It took him a moment to realize what I was referring to. He blushed. "Sorry."

"No. I understand. It's got to be hard, only having sex once or twice a year. I can't imagine the kind of strain that must put on you."

He nodded slowly.

"And me teasing and flirting with you like that, it must have made it a lot harder."

He nodded again.

"Yeah, sorry about that again. But I was thinking, if you want, I could...you know...help you out."

There was a long pause. "What do you mean?"

"If you want me to...and you can say no, I won't be offended...I'll give you a blow job."

He started absently tapping his foot, and I thought I was making him uncomfortable. Until I noticed the bulge in his pants. I had really put one over on him. But I would make it up to him right now if he would let me.

"You don't have to do that."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Trust me, it wouldn't be a chore."

He was silent for a long time. Well, I had promised not to flirt with him, I certainly wasn't going to push this without a signed and sealed invitation...

"Okay." He said it so softly I barely caught it.

"What?"

"I said okay." Mmm. That was more like it.

"Now all right?"

He actually shivered. Then nodded his head. "Yeah."

I stopped the movie - machine gun fire messes with my rhythm - and kneeled down in front of him, pulling him to the edge of the couch and spreading his legs.

"Condom?" he asked.

I looked up at him.

"If you'd be more comfortable," he added.

"I'd rather not, if that's okay?" I didn't give unprotected blow jobs to just anyone, but with Vince I wasn't worried.

He gave a little smile and nodded.

I felt him through his jeans, and felt my own cock respond when I realized that he was already very hard. I undid his fly and yanked down his jeans and underwear together, making his cock slap up against his belly. I pushed his shirt up out of the way, then just sat back for a moment admiring him, half naked and exposed. He really was a work of art. And for the next half hour he was mine.

I got right down to business. I licked a slow line from the base of his cock up to the head, tasting a drop of pre-cum from his slit. I actually moaned at the same time he did. I will admit that cock sucking was not my best or favorite event. But Vince...he was on a different level. As soon as I looked at him, tasted him, I wanted to blow him more than I ever had anyone in my life.

In the back of my mind I was already forming the idea of doing this on a regular basis, to save Vince from the stress and risk of nameless one night stands. And for less altruistic reasons, of course. A fuck buddy in addition to a confidante, that could work, right?

I wrapped my lips around him and took him in to the entrance of my throat, a little too far in my enthusiasm, making me gag. I squashed my knee jerk reaction to push away, then moved back up to suck and lick the sensitive underside of the head. Vince was trying so hard not to squirm. He needed this, and I was pleased I could be the one to give it to him.

His hand twisted gently into my hair, the other stroked the side of my neck. Anyone else and that would have been a problem, but I actually found the gesture to be kind of nice coming from Vince. He wasn't forcing or holding me, just touching.

For half an hour I brought him close and then backed off again and again, knowing the payoff would be better for him the longer he lasted. My jaw was starting to cramp up, and even though I wasn't ready for it to end I couldn't go on much longer. Maybe I needed more practice. Mmm. That was an idea.

I was holding the base of his cock with one hand, and with the other I began to rub his thigh next to his balls. He whimpered and spread his legs, giving me whatever access I wanted. The trust and wantonness of the gesture sent a flash of heat through my body. Even though I hadn't touched myself I was rock hard and aching in my jeans. I cupped his balls with my fingers and used my thumb to massage his perineum. His reaction was immediate. He thrust against my hand, his cock grew in my mouth and started to gush pre-cum.

I sucked him a little harder, a little faster. He didn't need much to get him over the edge. He cried out and couldn't help thrusting his hips up to my mouth, making me choke slightly and lose the first spurt down my throat. I threw my weight into his hips to make sure that didn't happen again and sucked him through his orgasm, swallowing his load as he gave it to me. Not part of my usual bag of tricks, but I could definitely make an exception for him.

Once his body relaxed I found myself licking him clean. I think he had addictive qualities, because I was usually neutral at best to the taste of cum. I didn't want to move yet, so even after I was finished I leaned my head against his thigh under the guise of taking a rest.

When I finally looked up with a self-satisfied grin I saw that he wasn't smiling back at me.

I froze as my eyes met his. Why was he looking at me like that? That look pinned me to the floor. It was then that I realized he had never taken his hand from the side of my face. I found myself unable to move and my heart was pounding in my ears.

Slowly he slid off of the couch and dropped to his knees in front of me so we were face to face, only inches apart. He never took his eyes from mine, and he was breathing as fast as I was. And instead of pulling away I found I was nuzzling into his hand, and he responded by stroking his thumb along the corner of my mouth.

He brought his other hand up, cupping my face and neck in his hands. He closed the short distance between us, and kissed me on the cheek, the forehead, the bridge of my nose. Nobody had ever kissed me like that. Ever. My good judgment dissipated like fog in the sun. I knew I should push him away but I couldn't find the will to do it. When his lips finally touched mine I was a goner.

Against my will I opened my mouth to him, allowing his warm, soft tongue to trace mine. I've got to stop this. He wrapped a hand into my hair, and this time he did hold me, pulling me in, taking my mouth with his while I let him do it.

Without any conscious decision I was suddenly kissing him back. My hands found their way around his waist, pulling him flush to my body. He groaned and kissed me harder.

He broke the kiss, but before I could recover coherent thought he had his mouth on the side of my neck. He immediately found a sweet spot, making me gasp and hold him tighter.

He obviously took this as a go ahead. One hand left my face and traced down my side to my waist, where he slid under my shirt and made contact with the skin of my stomach. The touch made me shiver.

Then he traced his fingers down my abdomen to the top button of my jeans. When his palm brushed the straining bulge in my pants it was almost enough to make me shoot off.

And it was just enough of a dose of reality to break out of the brain fog.

I scrambled to my feet and stepped back. When Vince tried to follow me I put up a hand to stop him.

"Whoa!" I shouted. We weren't playing around anymore, and now that I had my head clear it was stopping right here. "This is getting way out of hand, Vince. I'm sorry I teased you. This was an apology. That's all. Understand?"

Vince swallowed hard, still on the ground, on his knees, color quickly rising in his face. He didn't look me in the eye. He tried to say something, but it caught in his throat and he could only nod.


Just One of Those Things Ch. 02



I ran out of there so fast I forgot my coat, but I didn't go back for it.



Just One of Those Things Ch. 03



First off I sincerely apologize for the delay in submitting Chapter 3. But don't worry, I'm still here, and I will finish the story. Thank you to everyone who decides to stick with me, I hope it was worth the wait. As always feedback is appreciated.

Jack

It was Sunday, two days after I ran out on Vince. I was at home cooking, fixing up some bean soup to get me through the week and trying not to dwell on what a complete and total bastard I was. I hadn't been out of the apartment since Friday night when I had come straight home from Vince's apartment and jerked off the second I was inside, coming so hard I had slid to the ground, pinpoints of light flashing in my eyes. Then the shame set in, and I couldn't bring myself to face him.

I had realized almost immediately how badly I had reacted. Of course Vince hadn't meant it the way that it seemed. He was just horny and too inexperienced to know that you just don't kiss someone like that unless you meant it. At first I had tried to convince myself that it had been a stupid, meaningless mistake and that all I had screwed up was potentially really hot fuck. We would laugh it off and things would go back to normal. But I had never been good at self-delusion. After all, I had screwed around with friends no-strings-attached before. This was definitely not the same.

I had Die Hard playing on my laptop as a distraction. In spite of myself I couldn't help but replay the last time Vince and I had watched it together. When I laughed out loud at the memory of some stupid joke he had made about Alan Rickman's German accent the sound came out hollow. I suddenly felt very lonely. 

So I got out my phone. What I really wanted to do was call Vince to apologize. From the look on his face when I bolted I might as well have punched him, and I hated myself for hurting him. I was supposed to be someone he could rely on, not someone who fucked with his head. Again. But just like the hundred times before I couldn't bring myself to go through with it. 

So instead I called the same person I always did when I needed to talk, my brother Alan. It rang a couple times before he picked up.

"Hey Jack." My brother's voice had that redneck twang that I had mostly lost since entering civilization. In the background I could hear metallic grinding and the burst of an air compressor. 

"You're still at work." I commented.

"Yeah, so? What's up?" 

"Nah, forget about it. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Alan made a dismissive noise. "I own the place, I can take a break whenever I want."

I snorted a laugh. "You own twenty-five percent Mr. Big Shot."

"Thirty five in another couple weeks."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Baker lost his shirt in the divorce, so he's selling me his share." 

"Not a surprise. You're the one who saved that dump after all. Why're you working this late anyway?"

Alan started laughing. "Oh, you'll love this. This morning that jackass Frank O'Hara tried to take a loaded logging truck over the Allagash River bridge." 

"Ha!" I barked. Well, that cheered me right up. "How many bones did he break?"

"None, unfortunately. But we found a dozen empty beer cans in his cab, so the Sheriff's got him locked up for DWI. It took us half the day to haul his rig out of the river. Broken axel, shocks, some front end and water damage. The Company's giving us a twenty percent bonus if we get it up and running by day after tomorrow." 

"Sweet."

"No shit. They really want to take advantage while the weather holds. Too bad you're not here, we could've used the extra set of hands." 

"You know," I contemplated, "I don't know why I ever left in the first place."

Alan laughed. "Yeah right. So, what's up?"

"I don't know, just a little lonely I guess."

"Well, of course you are, little country mouse in the big city."

"Shut up. I'll call back later. You get back to work." 

"Nuh-uh. Hold on a minute." There was a long pause and the sound of a door closing, and the shop noises disappeared. 

"So," Alan continued, "you gonna tell me what this is about?"

I didn't bother to dress up this train wreck. Not from him.

"I fucked up something pretty important, with someone who should have been able to trust me. Who did trust me."

"Uh oh." His voice was serious. "Not one of those kids from your group?"

"God no. Give me some credit. A friend." I paced up and down my tiny apartment. "I was the only person he had he could really talk to, and I may have completely messed it up." 

I had always been careful to avoid talking about Vince to Alan. Not that I didn't trust him, but, just like with the underclassmen I counseled, they weren't my secrets to tell. Now I was especially glad I hadn't because if I had he would have figured out what this was all about (and more importantly who it was about) in two seconds flat. 

"Alright, what'd you do?"

I rubbed my head. "I had sex with him - my brilliant idea by the way - and then freaked out and ran off. After I essentially told him he was a pity fuck."

"Wow." Alan made a falling bomb whistle. "And I take it that this isn't the same guy you've had your eye on?"

"Julian Monaco? God, I wish."

"Is this other guy the reason you've been in such a good mood lately?"

"I'm always in a good mood."

"He is, isn't he? So, how'd he take it? He pissed?"

"Probably." I considered. "He should be. But I don't know. I haven't talked to him yet."

"Haven't talked to him? How long's it been?"

"Two days."

There was an even longer pause. "So," Alan cleared his throat, "you...um...really like this guy, huh?" 

"I don't need to be in...I don't have to like someone to do dumbass things. You know that."

Alan ignored my pointless rationalizations. "Does he know how you feel?"

I groaned. "He's got to, doesn't he? I mean, why else would I have freaked out like that?"

"Maybe he feels the same way."

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see it. "Yeah, somehow I doubt that, after the number of times I've screwed with his head. But it's a moot point anyway."

"In the closet, huh?"

"And engaged."

"Ouch. Want to talk about it?"

"Yeah, but I can't."

"Fucker-fuckee confidentiality?"

I gave a weak laugh. "Something like that. I don't even know why I called."

"Because you're a soft touch whether you like it or not. Right now you're thinking maybe you can still be friends with this guy. You want to help him, and now you feel like you owe him. But you're too smart to think that is actually a good idea, so you need someone to tell you what you already know, which is that you need to stay the fuck away from him." 

I didn't want to hear it, but I knew it was true. "Yeah, I know." 

"You know, you know that there is no way this can end good. His life is going to suck no matter what you do. You can't let yourself get caught up in it."

"You're right," I sighed.

"You also need someone to tell you you're not a complete bastard, and..." Alan was cut off by the door opening and someone called him back to the floor. "Can't you deal with it for five fucking minutes?" he barked at the intruder.

"Go on," I cut in. "I'll call you back tomorrow and tell you how it goes."

"You sure?"

"It's fine."

He gave an incredulous noise. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not a complete bastard. Do what you gotta to do for this guy, then let it go. You know how ugly this can get."

"Thanks. Get back to work."

"I'm not kidding. Bye."

Talking to Alan had helped. It always did. He had always known how to tell me what I needed to hear. God help me, I was this close to feeling homesick. But tomorrow was the real test. I was going to have to face Vince.

Vince

It was Sunday night and I was staring at the same page in my Evidence text that I had failed to absorb the first five times I read it. I was in a rotten mood because I hadn't gotten a single thing accomplished all weekend. No reading. No outlining. Even the little ABC Hornbooks I had bought as study aids flew right over my head. I had even called my father's chief of staff to bitch at him over some essentially irrelevant talking points he had botched. Not surprisingly all that accomplished was to piss him off and make him hang up on me. 

I had tried giving myself the usual pep talk. Remember, you're here to do a job. You have an opportunity that you don't deserve and you'd damned well better earn it. But for the first time in my life it didn't help. The only thing I had managed to do with any success was to run myself to exhaustion doing laps around the park. But no amount of exercise seemed able to ease my restlessness.

I had done my best to put it out of my mind, but of course I knew the reason.

I had sat on my couch for an hour after Jack had run out my door, a deep sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had screwed up, I wasn't sure exactly how, but I had. That's why I had no right to see it as a betrayal, but for all the world that's what it felt like. I didn't know what it meant, except that the only real friend I ever had, would likely ever have, had just run out on me and I didn't understand why. 

I had waited up until midnight in case he came back or called, but he did neither. I lay awake in bed, unable to quiet the confusion and arousal racing through my mind. 

I might be inexperienced, but I knew the difference between fucking and intimacy. I had definitely crossed that line, though I had no idea how far. Thinking back on it rationally it shouldn't have been anything. So, I wanted more than a one-sided blow job, so the fuck what? At least that's what I convinced myself had happened. The truth was that I had been so caught up in the heat of the moment I had no idea what I was doing. But obviously it meant something to Jack. I couldn't decide if what had happened had been nothing at all or potentially catastrophic. 

But, even if I had screwed up I should have heard from him. I mean, we were friends after all. Right?

But when I really thought about it, I had probably said twenty words to Jack for every one he spoke to me. I had spent countless hours pouring my soul out to him - my family, my upcoming marriage, my constant, oppressive fear of disappointing my father. But I knew next to nothing about him. On the few occasions I had tried to ask him about himself he had always turned the conversation back to me. I knew he felt bad about fucking with me back at the beginning of the semester, maybe this was just his way of making us even. Maybe Jack hadn't been my friend at all. 

He was my goddamned therapist. 

That possibility scared me more than anything else. Friends didn't grow on trees. Not for me. Over the last few weeks I had grown to rely on Jack more than I could have imagined, not just as someone I could vent to but as someone who cared about and accepted me for who I really was. Probably the only person who would ever even know who I really was.

Or so I thought. It hadn't occurred to me how precarious our relationship was. I wouldn't say that I was a pity case exactly, but it was obvious now that I needed him a hell of a lot more than he needed me. God knows what nerve I hit to make him freak out like that, but the reason he didn't come back with a smile and an apology might simply be because he had no reason to. He could blow me off if I pushed too far because the friendship I thought we shared was largely in my head.

Tomorrow was Monday, and I was going to get some answers.

**************

I expected Jack to continue avoiding me, so I was surprised when after our first class he walked straight up to me and asked if we could talk.

We found an empty conference room and closed the door. Now that we were alone I didn't know how to start. My initial plan had been to try to laugh the whole thing off, like it was just some silly misunderstanding. It was worth a shot anyway. But now I couldn't seem to find the words.

Jack was the first to break the silence, though he still didn't make eye contact. "Look Vince, I'm really, really fucking sorry for running out on you. That was a real dick thing to do."

I felt an immediate rush of relief. So, he didn't blame me for what had happened. That was good sign. But then, what was the problem? I wanted to ask him but figured it would be best not to launch into an interrogation just yet. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me. But it's not just your fault. I knew the ground rules. I just got...a little..." I shrugged, "carried away, I guess." Boy was that an understatement. 

Jack must have been thinking the same thing. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "A little? You could knock someone right off their feet with that shit."

I couldn't help but crack a smile. "I don't know whether to say thanks or sorry to that."

"Why would you be sorry?"

I shrugged. "I obviously crossed some sort of line."

"You didn't do anything wrong." Jack shook his head. "You only kissed me. It was a hell of a kiss, I'll give you that. But it's not like you bent me over the couch and fucked me."

"If you hadn't left I might have." I chuckled, but I was only half kidding. If that. 

Jack didn't smile. If anything he looked even more uncomfortable. What the hell? The whole fuck buddy thing was his idea after all, now he was the squeamish one? "It was a bad idea," he repeated. "I should never have brought it up. It's just, I worry about you, you know? It's more dangerous out there than you seem to think. I know you're a good judge of character, but you can't always see them. Especially the real monsters. I really don't want to see you get hurt."

For the time being his concern for my welfare flew right over my head. So, I thought, I was a pity case after all. Without thinking I put up a hand to stop him. "Okay," I retorted, "one, you didn't make me do anything. I'm an adult, I'm capable of making my own fucking decisions. Two, you're my friend, no my goddamned therapist, you don't have some responsibility to protect me from myself."

Jack gave me a wide eyed look and put his hands up. "Oooo...kay."

I stopped myself. Remember, you're here to make friends. I knew he was only trying to help. The fact that he worried so much about me should make me happy, not defensive.

I guess he recognized the blow to my ego, because after an introspective pause he added, "I didn't do it out of charity Vince. I'll admit I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think it would help you. But I also wouldn't have done it unless...I wanted to." He looked at the ground, and I swear to God that he blushed. "Don't you remember how it affected me?"

Oh, yes I did remember - the feel of him hard as a stone grinding against my hip, his rough, calloused hands in my hair, his soft tongue, tasting myself on his mouth...I had to sit down to hide my instant hard on. We both laughed a little at my late-coming modesty, but the tension didn't leave the air.

"So," I drew a breath, "are we good?"

Jack frowned. "Um, define 'good'."

Uh oh. "I mean, can't we just pretend Friday never happened?"

He shuffled his feet and my heart sank again. "Fuck Vince, I'm really sorry..." he drifted off. But then he seemed to struggle with something, and finally he shook his head and sighed. "Let's just give it some time, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," I found myself saying. So, what, he cared about me enough to worry about my safety and to feel like crap for hurting me, but not enough that he was willing to keep spending time with me? That was a hard blow. I wanted an explanation. But what I wanted more was to be friends again. So I took what he offered and didn't push it.

He took that as his cue to exit, giving me an apologetic half-smile on his way out. If I hadn't been so confused I might have found his uncharacteristic lack of confidence endearing.

Time. Yeah. I could handle that. If the last few weeks had taught me anything it was that I wasn't sure I could do this alone. Not in the long run. I needed him. And damned if I was going to lose him over a kiss.



Jack

After that conversation Vince and I hardly said a word to each other for a month and a half. I knew I should have just followed my brother's advice and cut my losses. I even called him several times a week just to remind me. Again, I knew in my head it was a bad idea. I kept telling myself that, as bad as I felt, it would be even worse if I was around him now that I understood my feelings toward him. 

Though, increasingly, I wasn't really sure how.

I had honestly had every intention of breaking it off with Vince when I talked to him, but in the end I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. Aside from the fact that it would make me a titanic asshole, it felt too wrong to give him the brush off and mean it, and no amount of logic to the contrary could change that. Part of me hoped, even expected, that he would just forget the whole thing and decide he was better off without a flake for a friend. But it didn't happen.

For several weeks we had been nearly inseparable. And sure, I lusted after him (though in retrospect there was definitely more to it even then), but he had also been the best friend I had made since leaving home. 

So I thought if I could just get back to that place then we could be friends again and put this whole giant mess behind us.

By now cracks were starting to show in Vince's patience. He did his best to respect my request for time, but whenever our paths crossed at school or in the study group he would give me this puppy dog look and I couldn't help but feel guilty. 

The only positive that had come out of all this was that Julian and I had become friends. I guess he realized I was feeling low so, being the ridiculously sweet guy he was, one day he invited me to stay after the study group. I didn't have to think before accepting. Since leaving home I hadn't managed to make any lasting friendships, but until Vince it hadn't bothered me.

We didn't do anything in particular, just read in companionable silence, watched T.V. I appreciated that he didn't try to make small talk, or ask me how I was doing, just kept me company. I ended up leaving late, and he surprised me by asking me back the next day. From his casual tone I had expected there to be other people there, but it was just us again, which suited me fine. Soon I was over at his place a couple days a week. He definitely wasn't a substitute for Vince, but it was nice.

But there was one thing that bothered me. For the first time, I felt no attraction to Julian. I would stare at him out of the corner of my eye for long minutes, trying to recall even the tiniest spark of what he once did to me. But I might as well have been looking at my brother from the complete lack of warm tingly feelings. 

It wasn't that I didn't think he was good looking. I had always thought that. Not in an all-American Adonis way like Vince, but more in a sweet, approachable boy-next-door way. Okay, got to stop comparing him to Vince. But much more than that he was smart, down to earth, and almost as unaffected as Vince (Again?) despite the fact he had enough money in his trust fund to buy and sell the town I grew up in. Most importantly, he had a good heart. That was all I wanted, the rest was just gravy.

After a couple weeks of trying to conjure some interest from my heart (or even my dick) I decided that the only reasonable thing to do was put my romantic ambitions on hold and just enjoyed Julian's friendship for what it was. I still had a year and a half before we graduated, and he didn't seem to be going anywhere.

********************

I was running late for the study group. I didn't see Vince's midnight blue BMW on the street and couldn't decide if I was relieved or disappointed. Being in such close proximity was...uncomfortable...but he needed the group, and I had insinuated myself to the point I would be a real dick if I left. 




Just One of Those Things Ch. 03



But when I walked in I was met immediately by Vince's gaze when he looked up from his seat to see who had arrived. When his eyes met mine he got that look again. I gave him a quick nod then took my seat at the other end of the table. I sighed. No reprieve then. 

Julian's coffee machine had broken the last time we met and someone had brought coffee from the café on the corner. There was a cup at my spot, so I offered it to Lisa, my recent study-mate. She acted like a total valley girl, but was a wolf in sheep's clothing to anyone that underestimated her. She refused the cup, turning it so I saw my name printed on it. 

She pointed to Vince by way of explanation. He gave me a little smile, and I tried to return it.

I took a sip and found that it was hot chocolate. He knew that caffeine affected me like cocaine. It was a small, thoughtful gesture, and it made me feel like absolute crap for ignoring him.

At the end of the meeting everyone but Vince - who always stayed a little later to organize his notes - filed out in a group. I tried to sneak out with them to avoid being alone with Vince, but Julian cornered me to talk about this indie band concert he had convinced me to go to this weekend. Frankly it sounded awful, but he was always a good sport about staying in when I wanted to, so I agreed and tried to be enthusiastic about it. I kept hoping Vince would leave, but he seemed oddly interested in our conversation.

Julian ended up showing us out at the same time so there was nothing to do but share an elevator ride to the ground floor. I swear it took twice as long as usual, and not just because of the awkwardness. It was a small compartment and we were standing close enough I could smell him. Which made me think of the last time we had been this close. Great, now I had a hard on. I bit my lip and tried not to think of it, of the man just inches away, that I had almost gotten so much closer to...But finally we arrived at the ground floor.

I took a deep breath of cold air as soon as I was outside and walked quickly toward my car, not daring to say goodbye, but Vince was right behind me. I had gotten into the habit of parking in the opposite direction from his Beamer to avoid this sort of incidental contact. 

But then he stopped at a shining new Mercedes CLS with the temporary license in the window, right behind my beat up Chevette.

His eyes met mine, then darted away again. This was getting ridiculous. Better say something.

"So." I said. "New car."

"Yeah. For my birthday."

"Oh. Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"Twenty six, right?"

"Yeah."

I couldn't seem to get my keys out of my pocket. I pulled off my glove and ended up dropping my books. I cursed and knelt down to pick them up. One slid under the car. Vince seemed to be having similar problems finding his keys, so he was still standing there, not sure whether to ignore me or help.

"You need a hand?" His voice was shaking slightly, trying to suppress a laugh. This was so painfully awkward about all you could do was laugh.

"No, I'm good." I muttered from half way under my car.

I finally gathered everything up. Vince was still standing there. Should I talk to him? All I wanted to do was get as far away as possible. That or push him up against that shiny new car and work out five weeks of sexual frustration on him. 

The uncomfortable silence was broken by the sound of an engine revving and then quickly dying. I looked around and saw Lisa from the study group at the wheel of her car. I walked over, Vince following behind me.

Lisa saw us and rolled down her window and smiled. "Hi Jack. Hi Vince."

"Hey Lisa." I replied. "Car trouble?"

"Yeah. It's been acting weird all week. Guess I'm going to have to call a mechanic." 

"Let me take a look." I offered.

Lesson number one when you're dirt poor is know how to fix your own shit. I had bought my piece-of-crap Chevette for a song when I was fifteen from a neighbor who had given up half way through a half-assed attempt to convert it for dirt track racing. It was a total redneck bastard that I had kept staggering along since then by a combination of creativity, force of will, and reckless disregard for vehicle inspection laws.

"Oh," Lisa implored, "I don't want to be a bother..." 

But when I made a 'pop the hood' gesture she was quick enough to comply.

I told her to start the engine, and when she did I heard a definite hiss right before the car sputtered roughly and stalled out again.

I came back to the window. "I think it's the intake manifold."

A worried crease formed between her eye brows. 

"I can find out right now. I've got some tools in my car." Since my car was almost always in some desperate state of disrepair I kept enough equipment in it to outfit a small garage. Vince didn't seem to be going anywhere, so I sent him to get one of the tool boxes and flashlights. Only too late did I think of a couple old porno magazines I had back there. I flinched. I had been going through a man-in-uniform phase when I got them. Apparently Vince didn't mind because when he came back he was suppressing a smartass smirk.

I told her to turn the engine again, and I sprayed a small amount of starter fluid on the seals. Sure enough the engine sped up briefly before stalling out again.

"Definitely the intake manifold," I told her. "You'll need a new hose."

"How much?" she asked. Like me Lisa was a full ride scholarship. Unlike me she was comfortably middle class, but she couldn't afford to throw money away.

"Including the tow, six hundred, maybe eight. Assuming you find an honest mechanic. Some of those assholes bend you over and fuck you good."

"Oh." She murmured, eyes wide. Vince jabbed me in the back with a disgusted grunt.

"Ow. What, this isn't fucking high tea...Ow!" That time when he jabbed me it hurt.

"Jeez, sorry," I scowled at him before turning back to Lisa. "You know any good mechanics?"

She just shook her head with a blank-eyed stare. "Not here. At home I'd take it to the dealership but..." she drifted off with a helpless gesture.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. City people. "Look," I said, "all that's a real a pain in the ass. The hose only costs forty dollars. I could replace it right here."

After some token resistance, and an uncalled for offer to pay me something for the labor, she agreed. She didn't have any cash on hand, so she jogged off down the block to an ATM machine, leaving Vince and me once more alone in silence. I called up to Julian to get him up to speed, then we were back to staring at our feet.

"So," Vince said after a couple minutes.

"So." 

A shit eating smile crept across his face. "Got a thing for military men, huh?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"No, really, I feel the whole manly man thing. So, I'm curious, Marines or Army? I'm partial to Air Force, actually, I saw Top Gun for the first time when I was twelve and..."

"Shut up."

"Although, technically, I don't think actual soldiers would wear uniforms quite so revealing..."

I punched him in the arm, but not with much conviction. By the time Lisa came back we were both laughing. 

Vince offered to take her home and we made arrangements to meet bright and early the next day. 

I guess I was going to get my first test of whether I could handle being around Vince, whether I liked it or not. 



Vince

At six the next morning I picked up Lisa and arrived to find Jack already waiting with the new hose and a couple rusty boxes of tools. It was bitter cold so we chivalrously convinced Lisa to go up to Julian's apartment. Jack only needed one other set of hands, and Lisa being a SoCal girl I was pretty sure they weren't going to be hers. Of course only once she was gone did I realize that I now had a couple hours alone with Jack. 

But if he minded much he didn't let on.

I didn't have much to do at first besides hold the flashlight, hand him tools, and take parts from him, so I was left with nothing to occupy my mind except for Jack bent over the engine, jerking and grunting as he loosened fittings between the engine and grill and giving me some extremely impure thoughts. 

"Vince. Vince."

"Huh, what?" I stuttered.

"Watch the flashlight."

"Oh, sorry." I pointed the light back to where he was working. I cleared my throat. This seemed like as good a chance as ever to try to make friends. "So, how'd you learn about cars?"

"Back home I worked in a shop summers and evenings. Dirty work, but the pay can be pretty good if you know your shit."

"Yeah. Can't really say cars were included in my education." I admitted.

"You don't say?" he laughed. "But you had bigger fish to fry helping your dad save the world. No time for this piddley practical crap, huh?" He was teasing, but not in a mean spirited way. I started to relax a little. We fell back into silence, but this time it was more comfortable. Once more I was left with nothing to do but try to look anywhere but at his ass.

Aside from his smile, I couldn't pin down what it was that made him so sexy to me. (Though right now his blue collar thing was doing it for me big time. I had always had a thing for working men.) He was five seven and couldn't weigh more than a hundred and thirty pounds, but it wouldn't be appropriate to call him small. Small implies soft, weak. But while I shivered in my expensive fleece lined coat the cold didn't seem to touch him through his ratty sweatshirt or ungloved hands. 

After ten more minutes dancing foot to foot, I made another attempt at conversation. "How can you stand this?"

"Stand what?"

"What do you mean 'what'? The cold. I'm dying out here."

"I thought you were from New England." Jack laughed in triumph. My home state of Connecticut's status as a New England state had once been a subject of heated debate between us. "This is New England in winter. So suck it up Yankee boy." 

"Southern New England." I qualified. "Where are you from then, the Yukon?"

"Northern Maine."

"Northern Maine?" Finally we were getting somewhere. Still, I waved dismissively. "That's French Canada monsieur, not New England."

Jack gave me a scathing look that said my comments were not appreciated. "Let's not get into who the real New Englander is here, because you're not going to win." He retorted in a perfect (if exaggerated) Massachusetts/Maine Coast accent.

"Seriously?" I laughed. "That's good, better than your Vincent Price. But nobody under sixty still talks like that." For some reason it didn't stop me from getting an instant hard on.

He grinned in response, and just like that I was fully hard.

"Honestly," I followed up, "I didn't know there was anything up there."

"Not much," Jack agreed. "A few little logging towns."

It actually made sense. It would explain his manners anyway. The opening strain to Dueling Banjos flitted through my head. 

"Hey!" Jack barked. I realized I had been humming out loud and smirked at him. 

"You better watch yourself there city boy or you're liable to get your ass whooped," he threatened, waving a wrench at me.

I was pleased that he seemed willing to talk about himself, so I decided to push forward. 

"So, any family still there?"

"My brother Alan."

"Parents?"

He shrugged. "Kind of."

"Kind of?" I urged.

He gave a short pause before explaining. "Our mom died when we were kids. Dad couldn't handle it. He fell apart. Started drinking. He wasn't the sharpest tool to begin with, and then he pickled half of what brain he had." He handed me a couple bolts before continuing. "But the worst was when he got 'born again.' And I mean the real fundamentalist, bible thumping, Army of Christ kind."

"Shit."

He gave a derisive laugh. "Pretty much. He's not a bad guy, really. But he's got the wherewithal of a fucking houseplant."

"How'd your mom die?" I'd say it was an overly blunt question if Jack hadn't once asked me exact same thing.

"Breast cancer."

"Oh. How old were you?" 

"Twelve."

"That must have been rough."

He shrugged. "It was. But I could hardly remember a time when she wasn't sick, so it was kind of a relief. But it could have been worse. You never even got to know your mother."

You're not turning this back on me I thought. I had spent countless hours telling him about me and my family, now I wanted to know about him. 

And he was relatively forthcoming. The first and most obvious thing I learned was that he thought his brother Alan walked on water. Alan was three years older, and, though he didn't exactly say so, I got the impression he really stepped up when their mother died. He also had a couple of childhood friends he was still very close to and talked about like family. His father, on the other hand, seemed to be a non-entity in his life. After their mother died, the word "us" applied strictly to him, his brother, and their friends.

We talked like that for half an hour. Eventually Jack broached a topic that had obviously been on his mind. "So," he said, "I guess it's back to the pick-up bars now, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." I didn't tell him that I had been so horned up during the last few weeks that I had actually tried a couple places. But, despite being in constant danger of busting my zipper, nobody had piqued my interest even a little bit. It was not a problem I had ever encountered before, and it was maddening.

Jack let out a long breath and shook his head. "Fuck, Vince, I don't want to beat a dead hose, but promise me you'll be careful. Really, really careful."

"I will," I responded, a little miffed that he was still on about this. I'm not a slouch after all.

Jack read my mind. He turned and caught my gaze. "Don't you dare think it can't happen to you, because it can. And with that attitude it probably will. You hear me?"

"Yeah," I responded. "I promise."

He frowned, and I think he was going to say more, but it was at this point that Julian came down to check on our progress and bring us hot chocolate.

"Sorry, the coffee machine's still on the fritz," he apologized to us.

Jack took his cup with relish. "How about I come by tonight and see if I can fix it?"

Jack obviously didn't notice the way Julian stood a little closer to him than necessary, or the way brightened up when he replied, "Yeah, that'd be great. I want to try out a new chicken recipe and I need someone without any tact to tell me how it turns out."

Jack sputtered laughing. "You got my number. I'll come by around six." 

I was struck by a sudden, intense desire for Julian to go away. 

This was my chance to patch things up with Jack, I didn't need him butting in with his hot chocolate and dinner invitations and innocent, wholesome good looks...I'm not really sure why, but I couldn't help but feel a certain satisfaction when Jack remained inexplicably blind to Julian's interest. 

Julian lingered a few minutes more, feigning interest in the proceedings, until the cold got to be too much and he returned to his apartment. I had to stop myself from pointing out Julian's wussiness to Jack. I shook my head. I liked Julian. I didn't know what had gotten into me.

I had been leaving it up to Jack to make a move to renew our friendship. I still didn't know what his issue was, so I didn't know how to approach the situation other than wait for him. But now I realized my time might be running out. If/when he started dating Julian he wouldn't have time for me like he used to. I needed to re-insinuate myself, and now.

"So," I asked once we were alone again, "you had enough time yet?" It took Jack a moment to figure out what I was talking about. He was silent for so long that I spoke up. "What's the problem? I thought we were friends..."

"Of course we were friends," Jack shot back with an irritated expression, like I had been fishing for an obvious compliment. He shook his head and went back to work under the hood, so he didn't see me break into the biggest smile of my life. I had never really known until now what people meant when they said they were so happy they could burst.

I was too damned jazzed at the moment to really wonder why the hell he had ignored me for a month and a half if he considered us friends, but I would get my answer eventually.

"So..." I tried again, attempting to keep the smile out of my voice.

I was beyond relieved when he finally nodded. "How about I give you a call." He paused. "Next week. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." I didn't bother to suppress a laugh this time. "That would be fine."

Fortunately Jack's head was back under the hood so he didn't notice my reaction. Not so fortunately for me his ass was once more on display, now covered with grease and grime, and I was left fighting a vivid fantasy of dragging him out from under the hood, shoving him up against the car, ripping that raggedy sweatshirt over his head and...

"Vince, flashlight."

"Oh, right." 



Jack 

I hadn't realized until now just how important our friendship had been to Vince. It explained why he was pushing things in spite of my feelings for him. It also busted down the last of my resolution to stay away from him. I cared about him too much to hurt him like this. 

But I couldn't pretend that this was just for his sake. The truth was that I knew it was right, almost the moment I gave in. The real giveaway was the complete absence of warning bells from my heart or mind. Every bit of logic I possessed told me that it was a bad idea, that it could only end badly. But no matter what I tried I just couldn't convince myself of it deep down. Being around Vince just felt right. 

In fact, the only thing about it that seemed wrong was the inevitable call I would have to make to my brother. For the first time I was actually glad there were three hundred miles between us.

So I gave myself a week to get used to the idea. I wasn't a wishful thinker, so I knew that as long as I fully understood the situation, and my own feelings, I would be okay.

************

That night when I went over to Julian's apartment to fix his coffee machine he was acting weird. He was restless, couldn't sit still. And he seemed more uncomfortable around me than he had since we first started hanging out. Maybe he had a date? 

So I gave him an opening to get rid of me. "You know, it's getting kind of late."

Which apparently was the wrong thing to say. "Nah," he replied quickly, jumping off the couch to stand between me and the door. He recognized his own odd behavior and smiled sheepishly.

"What's up with you tonight?" I asked. "You didn't get one of those iced espresso things from down the block, did you?"

He shook his head. "It's only seven. Come on, I'll show you how to play Call of Duty."

A half hour later I had just blown us up with a hand grenade for the third time in a row, and Julian finally broke down laughing. 

One look at him and I couldn't help it and cracked a smile. "Shut up, it's not funny."

"You're doing that on purpose," he accused as he got up to get fresh drinks. "Nobody's this bad."

"Hey, look," I pointed at the screen while the game reloaded," we can play online."

Julian gave me a dubious look.

"Embarrassed?" I laughed. "Can't take me anywhere, can you?"

"Oh yes I could."

He set the drinks on the coffee table and sat back down. Much closer than before. So close our thighs were touching. His expression was now serious, and his gaze was turned inward, like he was hyping himself up for something. I meanwhile was getting a sinking feeling in my stomach, only partially tempered by disbelief. 

He glanced down at my mouth and there was no doubt what was going to happen.

Oh hell.

As he leaned in close I frantically raked my brain for any of the hot achy feelings I used to get around him, to conjure up any one of the dozens of fantasized he had once starred in. 




Just One of Those Things Ch. 03



Then Julian's lips touched mine. And I felt...nothing. I wanted to scream. 

After a few seconds of non-response, Julian pulled away with a frown. "What am I missing here? I could have sworn..." he stood up and looked away so I couldn't see his hurt expression. "Wow. I must have really misread things. I'm sorry, I..."

"No," I grabbed his wrist to keep him from escaping into another room. "You didn't misread anything."

He threw up his arms. "Then what's the problem?" 

I was about to say that it wasn't him, but realized how that sounded. "It's just... Really, really bad timing."

"Is there someone else?" 

"No. Yes. Kind of." Julian gave me a quizzical look. "There's someone that I'm sort of... caught up on. Nothing's going to happen there, but I can't really do anything but ride it out. Sorry." I rubbed my forehead and groaned. "You cannot fucking believe how sorry I am."

"So," he said at length. "I was right then? You were interested?"

"Honestly, I joined the study group just to get closer to you. Trust me, I didn't ask for this."

He sat thoughtfully for a long moment. "Good to know." 

I was about to ask him what he meant, but then he clapped his hands and smiled. 

"So, you hungry yet? Smells like dinner's ready."

"Yeah, sure," I replied, still not quite sure what to make of the whole thing.

I watched Julian put the final touches to dinner with a pang of regret. God, I wanted to want him. I couldn't guess the number of Julian-induced erections I had had over the last year. I had once even had the idea in my head that he was the kind of guy I could see myself settling down with. But now I had blown it. And I had no one to blame but myself.



Just One of Those Things Ch. 04



Jack

I was lying on my futon/couch, every inch of my body aching after one of the more notable days in my recent history. Today had been an LGBT support group meeting. We had moved across campus a few weeks ago to lose the hecklers, but when we let out today we were greeted by something worse - some wanna-be paparazzo, no doubt thinking he could make a few bucks outing the children of the rich and famous. I had blindly chased him into the street, where, not surprisingly, I had been flattened by the front bumper of a Chevy S10 pickup. I was banged up pretty good, but nothing broken. Still, not exactly my finest hour. Sadly enough, it was a distant second on the list of stupid situations I had gotten myself into in the last few weeks.

It had only been a couple days since I had started talking to Vince again, thus escalating situation number one to an entirely new level of stupid. Whatever my heart told me, Vince was simply not an option. I should have walked away, but the truth was I couldn't stand seeing his silent suffering. I might have been pissed at Vince for expecting me to be able to just forget how I felt and be friends again, but then again the poor guy was so fucked up in the personal relationships department that I was positive he didn't really understand what he was asking of me. Besides, I was the only person who knew his secret, the only person he could talk to. My brother was right - I was a soft touch. 

But what really worried me, the reason I needed some more time to sort myself out, the reason I wasn't sure any amount of time would be enough, was that I wasn't at all sure I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him if given half a chance. 

But, unlucky for me, I wasn't going to get the chance to sort it out before things came to a head. 

That's where I was when I was jolted out of a semi-lucid haze by someone pounding on my door. I didn't notice it right away because it had blended in with the sound of sleet now pelting the window as the first winter storm of the year rolled in. Reflexively I tried to get up, and immediately regretted it. 

"It's open," I called, easing back with my eyes squeezed closed. 

I heard someone enter. I was expecting my landlord. When I was low on cash he would give me leftovers from his restaurant in exchange for doing some maintenance work. Of course the food would have gone in the trash anyway, but I didn't push it because this was the only building I could afford within five miles of campus that wasn't full of drug dealers and hookers.

"I guess it's true then." I was startled by Vince's voice.

I stared blearily at him for a moment, half-thinking this was some perverse trick of my mind. This was not a temptation I was in any state to handle right now. That's when I realized what was wrong with this picture. 

"How'd you get here?" Duh. I corrected, "It's a blizzard out there, what are you doing driving?"

"Checking on you, obviously. I heard you got hit by a car."

Fantastic. Apparently the fact that I was dumb enough to step into moving traffic had become common knowledge. "Yeah. Not to sound ungrateful, but why didn't you just call? It was dangerous coming over here." 

"I tried, it went straight to voicemail." 

I pointed to my coat, which I had left lying in a dirty torn up heap on the floor by the door. Vince retrieved my cell phone from the pocket. Or, rather, the pieces of my cell phone. This day just kept getting better and better.

Vince handed it to me. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'll survive."

"That's not what I asked." He looked me up and down with a frown.

I slowly hauled myself into a sitting position to survey the damage to my phone. "I don't need a doctor, if that's what you mean. How'd you find out anyway?" 

"Jamie called me." Jamie was a mutual acquaintance of ours (probably the only mutual acquaintance given our vastly different circles), a Log Cabin Republican active in campus politics and also one of the other mentors in the LGBT group. 

Turning my attention to my phone I found that the screen was badly cracked and the back panel was in two pieces, but body damage seemed to be the extent of it. "It actually isn't as bad as it looks." I thought aloud.

"Well, that's good, because you look like shit."

"Not me, the phone. Thanks though." I hadn't looked in the mirror yet, but took his word for it. 

"How did you get hit by a car anyway?"

I told Vince what had happened while I fixed my phone. 

"So," he asked when I had finished, "did the guy get away?"

"Nah. He freaked out and dropped his camera in the road. It got pulverized." It had been an expensive one too, I thought with some satisfaction.

"That's lucky."

"Yeah, well, some of the damage was already done. A few of the kids got scared off, probably for good. It's a real shame too because those were the ones who needed the group."

After some tinkering I managed to fit the battery back into place. I pressed the power button and the screen flickered to life, distorted but readable. The first thing I noticed was that there were eleven missed calls and five voicemail messages, all from Vince. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he shrugged. "I told you I tried to call you."

"Yes you did." 

"I was worried."

"Obviously." 

He indicated my phone. "You can probably delete those."

This could be interesting. I pretended to delete them.

"As long as I'm here, you could probably use some help." 

As long as he's here. Which, judging by the weather, is going to be a while. I wasn't sure I was up to this, but then again it's not like I had a choice.

I let Vince pull me to the bathroom and then help me wrestle my shirt over my head. He looked me up and down and gave a low whistle. 

"It's just scrapes and bruises," I pointed out. "Weren't you ever a kid?" 

"Your childhood must have been a little more intense than mine."

"Are you kidding?" I joked. "You were the one living on the edge. Polo horses, yachting, skiing in Aspen..." Driving around in a blizzard because I didn't pick up the phone. "It's a wonder you made it out in one piece."

"Born to be wild, that's me," he snorted. "Do you have any first aid stuff?"

"There's peroxide and some washcloths under the sink."

The worst of it was on my left side, where I had hit the concrete after being thrown from the truck's hood when the driver slammed on the breaks. Vince started at my shoulder, the sting of the peroxide doing very little to distract me from the fact that his other hand was resting unnecessarily on my chest. I shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the pain. I wiggled away, trying to disguise it as a flinch. "Sorry," he murmured, but didn't move his hand. 

"Would you believe this isn't the first time I was hit by a car?" 

He shook his head. "No kidding. And I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius."

"Yeah right."

"Who were you chasing that time?"

"Well, when I was about fourteen two of our neighbor's sons, Larry and Darryl..." 

Vince spurted out laughing and waved me away. 

"I shit you not. Larry and Darryl. Real good ol' boy types, too. Always had it in for us. So they sneak onto our wood lot at three in the morning, tear down a wall of the henhouse and steal one of the best laying hens and the rooster. Now this isn't fucking around, not to us, we depended on those birds. So me and Alan take off after them, middle of November, fifteen degrees out in nothing but long johns. We catch them just as they get back to their truck. Alan goes for the door and I get in front of the hood to stop them." 

"It didn't stop them."

I shook my head. "Didn't get far though. With the chickens flapping around in the cab of the truck, the dumb sonsabitches drive off the road and hit a tree." I couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "When they tried to make a run for it Alan caught them and kicked the holy shit out of them." I was rambling and I knew it, but I desperately needed the distraction because Vince was so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my cheek.

"Were you hurt bad?"

"No bones were sticking out. But Alan kept me up all night in case I had a concussion."

"Did you?" He had moved to a cut on my scalp above my left temple, I think from where I hit the windshield. He couldn't have been more than six inches from my face, clearly too absorbed with what he was doing to realize how he was affecting me.

"Did I what?" I asked dumbly.

"Have a concussion."

"Probably."

"Do you have one now?" he asked, misinterpreting my mental slowness.

I had to think for a few seconds before I said no. Although it would explain the dulling throb in my head. And also why I told him that dumbass chicken story. That's when I noticed he was smiling. Was he making fun of me?

"What? Think I'm a redneck now?"

"No." He pulled back a little with a mischevious grin. "I already thought that. I like your accent though. I thought you were joking the other day with that overdone Bar Harbor thing. But you do have it a little. When you were arguing with Professor Frank a couple weeks ago about the health care law you kept calling Boston 'Ba-stin'."

"So, Yankee redneck."

He grinned. "That's good. Much better than the people I'm used to. I swear to God our next door neighbor growing up sounded like Thurston Howell III." He then launched into possibly the worst voice impression I had ever heard in my life.

"Ow," I grabbed my side, "Stop making me laugh."

He put his hand on my arm to steady me, and in the space of one disarmed moment his proximity went from uncomfortable to intolerable. I only prayed he thought the choppy breathing was from the pain. When I felt his warm breath on my exposed skin I squeezed my eyes shut and tightened my grip on the edge of the tub, taking a couple deep breaths. But when I opened my eyes Vince was watching in concern. 

"Jack, are you..."

But just then my phone trilled, and I took the opportunity to jump up and put some space between me and Vince. I checked caller ID then hit answer.

"Hey Julian."

"Hey! Jeez, am I glad to hear you."

"What's up?"

"Okay this may sound crazy, but I heard that you got hit by a car." I mouthed a curse. Was everyone going to find out about this?

"Um...yeah, it was technically a truck."

"Oh my God!" he shrieked.

"I'll be fine." I loved Julian, I really did, but the boy was sheltered and overprotective to say the least. I had to spend the next five minutes convincing him that yes, I was really okay, and no, he should absolutely not come over. 

I don't know why I was reluctant to tell him that Vince was already there, but in the end I didn't have a choice.

"Really?" Julian sounded skeptical. 

"Yeah, why not? Do you think I'd lie just to keep you from coming over?"

"In this weather? Yes."

"So I'm a liar, but a considerate one?" I handed the phone to Vince, who was interrogated for another five minutes while moving his attention from my shoulder to my skinned elbow. I could tell Julian was asking specific questions which Vince tried to answer as reassuringly as possible. Finally when it became clear Julian was getting more worked up I had to take the phone away, make a quick goodbye, and hang up.

"Sounds like he was really worried," commented Vince as he switched out a dirty cloth.

"I think that's his natural state," I grumbled, "God help that guy's future kids."

Vince wasn't buying it. "Look, I know it's none of my business, but are you two, you know..."

"No." I replied way too quickly.

"Oh." He didn't make eye contact. "Why not? Julian's obviously interested."

Why not? Seriously? "Jealous?"

"Honestly? Yeah, I am. I miss being friends. I miss you." Well, Vince was nothing if not forthright. 

Vince had been cleaning the skinned heel of my palm, which still had little bits of gravel in it. The pain had been a good distraction but now he had stopped, still holding my hand, rubbing his thumb nervously in the undamaged center of my palm, making my head light in a way that had nothing to do with the accident. There's no way he could have known how crazy that would make me. I yanked my hand away, not bothering to disguise it this time as pain. This was starting to get out of hand.

Vince sat back on his heels with a frown. 

There was no doubt that I was being a jerk to him at this point, which was really crappy considering he had come all this way just to check on me, but right now it was a thousand times better than what I really wanted to do to him.

"You said you wanted to start talking again," Vince continued. "I thought we were doing good." God damned that puppy dog look.

"So, we fixed a car together."

"You told me about yourself. Your parents, your brother..."

"You asked. It's not like the basic biographical information about my life is reserved for close friends." I flinched knowing I had gone too far.

"So, what, now we're not friends? What's your problem?" He made a frustrated sound and stood up. "You know what? I recognize this is weird for you, and I tried to respect that, I really did, but I gave you six weeks to get over it. Fucking suck it up already."

"Suck it up?" It took a couple seconds for his words to really register. "Jesus Christ Vince, I know you have a severely fucked up personal life, and you don't understand what it's like to have these sorts of feelings for someone, but I've got to tell you it is NOT something that goes away in a few weeks, however convenient that would be for you." 

The entire time I was talking Vince just looked at me like I was speaking Greek. "What the hell are you talking about? What..." Then he froze in mid-sentence, his eyes growing wide in a way that made my stomach plummet. "Oh."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "You didn't know, did you?" 

Vince started to say something, balked, and then shook his head, eyes still wide as saucers.

"Great, just fucking great." I breathed. "Looks like we're in for an awkward night, so let's get this over with." But before I could reach for the peroxide I stopped and rounded on him. "How did you not know? Why the fuck did you think I was avoiding you?" I was as angry with myself as I was with him. I should have noticed that he wasn't getting it, but my brain just wasn't firing on all cylinders right now.

"I don't know," he responded, raising his voice slightly. "I don't know. What the hell do I know about... about that sort of thing? So that's why you were acting so weird about me touching you...Shit, shit shit..." he ran his hand through his hair and started pacing.

I was silent as Vince had his minor freak out. I could see in his face that I had just changed the game, and I was sure that, whatever bond of trust we had forged over the last few months, I had just broken it. 

"I should probably go," Vince murmured. 

"You can't." He followed my gaze out the window. I couldn't see the opposite building through the snow anymore, and it was still an hour before sunset.

"I got here all right..."

"Jesus Vince," I snapped. "It's not like I'm going to rape you. I have some self-control." I shut my eyes and evened out my tone. "It's not safe to leave. Trust me, right now I'm not thrilled about it either." Even under the circumstances, it wasn't exactly an ego boost to have someone react to your (unintentional) admission of love by looking like he's thinking of jumping out the window.

Vince started at my blunt comment and seemed to snap out of it. "Um, yeah. It's just kind of hard to process. I never thought anyone would..."

"Couldn't help it," I shrugged. He looked at me like I was nuts.

"You must have thought I was a real asshole for not leaving you alone. Which really explains a lot."

"I figured you didn't know what you were asking for."

I could usually tell exactly what Vince was thinking, but the look he was giving me now was unreadable. He took the washcloth from my hand and dutifully continued to disinfect my scrapes and cuts, maintaining a healthy distance from me this time.

After fifteen minutes of awkward silence he had my upper body and face cleaned up. "Anywhere else?" he asked.

The truck's bumper had hit me about mid thigh, and a deep throbbing pain told me it was something that would have to be dealt with. But taking my pants off in front of Vince was not an appealing prospect. 

"Nothing I can't handle myself."

"I'm already stuck here."

Stuck here. Fine, I thought. It's not like this could get any more uncomfortable.

I kicked off my pants, cursing the obscene bulge in my underwear. Seriously, still? I tried to shrug, like, what're you going to do. Vince was staring and I had to fight not to cover myself with my hands. But then I noticed the sizable bulge in his own pants. 

He noticed my smirk and followed my gaze. Blushing he started to turn away, but then thought better of it, leaving him awkwardly facing the sink.

I giggled in perverse triumph, reverting as I seemed to do too often in his presence to a twelve year old mentality. "You know, it's even worse in profile." I was being a dick because I was hurt and embarrassed, and because I was angry at him for a dozen childish reasons, none of which were actually his fault. Usually I would expect Vince to see right through me, but he seemed genuinely confused himself. For the first time since I had known him he full out blushed. 

"Yeah, so... I'll get some ice." He muttered on his way out the bathroom door.

While he was gone I sat down on the edge of the tub and took a few deep breaths. From the next room I could hear him wrestle with the ice cube trays.

For a distraction I decided to check my voicemail messages from Vince. They started out calmly enough, followed by a reasonable level of alarm, but by the last one... By the time Vince returned with a dish towel full of ice cubes I think my mouth was hanging open.

Vince saw me and snatched the phone from my hand. "You told me you deleted them."

Not technically, but that wasn't the point. "You were worried." I pointed out.

"Yeah, I was."

"Really worried." That was an understatement.

He knelt next to me and pressed the ice pack a little too roughly to my thigh. I gasped at the shock of cold and pain. "Yeah, well, I guess I thought a lot more of our friendship than you did," he replied curtly.

Ouch. I sighed, the last bit of fight leaving me. "That's not true. You're the best friend I've had in a very long time. But I haven't been a very good friend to you. Kissing you. Teasing you. Coming up with that dumbass fuck buddy idea. And now this. I would promise to quit fucking with you, but each time I say that I just end up doing something even worse. And now I'm just being a bastard because you're fucking killing me here and you don't seem to realize it..."

I drifted off because Vince had stopped listening to me, instead staring at the cell phone in his hand with an unreadable frown. 

"Vince?" I waved my hand in front of his face. 

He blinked and then looked at me. He had clearly just figured something out because, for the first time since my inadvertent admission, there was absolutely no confusion in his expression. In fact, I'm not sure I had ever seen him look more certain.

I gulped.

To this day I can't say which one of use started it, but in a moment the space between us vanished and our lips met. It wasn't passionate or frantic like the first two times we kissed. The kiss was soft and brief, but it was what I needed. My heart still pounded but my mind was clear. I had known for weeks that I couldn't get more involved with Vince than necessary. And I had just realized that this was necessary.

We pulled apart. 

"You too, huh?" I asked.

Vince gave a shaky laugh. "Apparently. So," he added, "what do we do now?"




Just One of Those Things Ch. 04



I could only think of one thing. It was about the worst thing I could have done, and maybe under other circumstances it wouldn't have happened. All along it had been my sense of reason keeping me away from Vince. Now, with my bruised head making my logic skip like a broken record all I had to go on was my heart. 

"Well," I replied with a teasing smile. "You could leave, right now. I can get my landlord to give you a bed somewhere for the night. After that we just ignore each other completely." I knew if I asked him to he would do it, which somehow made the decision easier. I leaned in, my smile growing wider. "Or, second option..."

I leaned forward and kissed him again. Fuck it brain, you had your chance and look where you got us. When I pulled away Vince followed, making this desperate little sound deep in his throat that just about undid me, and suddenly the kiss wasn't so soft anymore.

He ran his hand through my hair above my ear, sending a couple pieces of safety glass pinging to the bathroom tile. Neither of us noticed. 

I stood up, pulling Vince with me. The ice clattered forgotten to the tile floor. I pressed him against the wall with my entire body and kissed him deeply, practically attacking his mouth. I inhaled his taste and smell.  

He put his arms around me, pulling me to him so that every part of our bodies that could touch was touching. In the process he hit several bruises and I gasped, breaking the kiss. He loosened his hold, but didn't let go. We were both breathing so hard. 

"I don't suppose I need to say that this is a bad idea?" Vince panted.

I simply laughed in reply, kissing and licking the dip at the base of his throat, making him moan and buck his hips into me. God, the taste of him made me crazy. He slid his hands into my underpants, cupping and rubbing my ass. I gasped and bit his smooth, tanned shoulder. Fumbling, I undid the rest of his buttons in a rush and yanked his shirt off. He was perfect, broad shouldered, with well-defined but not overdone muscles, and sparse patches of light hair on his chest and trailing down from his belly button. People say you can't judge a book by its cover, but Vince was definitely an exception. He was beautiful, inside and out. 

I licked one of his perfect nipples, and he nearly went through the roof. I smiled and latched onto it, sucking and flicking it with my tongue while he writhed and ground into me, moaning things that weren't quite words. When I finally stopped he leaned weakly against the wall, gasping in a combination of relief and want. I was about to assault the other one when he stopped me. "Too close," he explained.

I led him to my bed. I sat on the edge and pulled him to me, trailing kisses on his stomach. I licked him on the side just under the ribs, and he jerked and let out a stifled laugh. He was ticklish. I undid the button and zipper of his pants, and let them slide to his ankles. He stepped out of them along with his shoes. I pulled him against me, burying my face next to the hard bulge in his underwear and inhaling deeply. 

"I want to blow you." 

I was surprised because it was Vince's voice, not mine. Like you have to ask. I nodded. 

He dropped to his knees, pausing to kiss me while he pulled my underwear off in one quick motion. His hand traced up my inner thigh, and, at the same time he was sucking on my tongue, his hand wrapped around my cock. I made a sound that I'm pretty sure could be called a whimper. He rubbed the foreskin up and down a few times. I could feel him grin against my lips as he played with his new toy. "Awesome," he murmured. His thumb moved around the head, smearing around a bead of pre-cum. He brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it, then closed his eyes and shuddered. "You taste so good."

"Fuck, Vince," I whimpered. I took a deep, calming breath as he continued his explorations. "You ever done this before?" I asked. I knew his sexual experience was limited, and had no idea if it included giving blow jobs.

That grin was back. He leaned forward and engulfed my cock in his hot mouth. He bobbed up and down a couple times, lubing me with spit, then took me all the way to the back of his throat. Then past it. He swallowed, frowning in concentration, then in a slightly jerky move slid me in all the way until his nose was buried in my pubic hair. His throat was constricting around my head, massaging it in the most indescribably pleasurable way, while his tongue lapped the underside of my shaft. Oh my God, my boy was a master. How I didn't shoot right then was beyond me. He pulled up with a slight gagging noise, then began to lick and suck the head while jerking me, and I had to pull away or I was going to come. 

Vince looked up at me, smiling in smug satisfaction. "Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," I gasped. "I guess you've had more experience than I figured."

"I doubt it."

"Well then, you're a fucking natural." 

He flashed that wholesome all American smile at me, starkly at odds with the subject matter. "Thanks. Will you suck me too?"

"God, yes."

He stood up so his groin was level with my face again, peeling off his underwear as he went. I wrapped my lips around his cock as soon as it was in range, lapping around the head to collect his pre-cum. I savored the taste, letting it ride on my tongue as I started to move up and down, letting him slide along my tongue and giving the underside of his head a little flick on each upstroke. I might not have been the master he was, but I had him moaning soon enough. He grabbed my shoulder. "Lay down on your side." 

"I don't think I'll last very long."

"Me either. But I'm not going anywhere."

Soon we were laying side by side, all rational thought gone as we brought each other closer and closer to the edge. I tried to hold out, but it was all too much.

I pulled Vince's cock out of my mouth, afraid of biting him when I came.

"I'm gonna come," I gasped out. Vince pulled me out of his throat, but not out of his mouth. He wanted to taste it. The realization had my orgasm crashing over me in waves, electricity jolting through my body as Vince sucked and lapped my cock, making a truly valiant effort to swallow everything I was giving him. I had never felt this overwhelming sense of release before, and it filled my vision with bright lights. When I came down what felt like an hour later I realized that my fingers were dug into Vince's ass, leaving angry red scratch marks. I let go and rubbed them in apology. Vince didn't seem to notice. 

He was shaking, his body begging me to take it over the edge. I wrapped my lips around him, licking his head, then gave him a couple of good, slurping strokes before he cried out, his body jerking as his semen started filling my mouth. And there was a lot of it. I had to swallow three times, and even then it was leaking out the corner of my mouth. Once he finally stopped spurting I took all I had collected in my mouth and held it there, savoring. I had been dreaming about this from the first time I had given him a blow job. I was pretty sure he was addictive. 

Vince turned around shakily so that we were lying facing each other, still collecting the cum that had dripped out of his mouth with his finger. "Never had a guy cum in my mouth before."

"Oh yeah?" I replied lazily. "How'd you like it?"

He licked his finger clean and grinned at me. "You have to ask?"

"Shit, you are something else Vince." He leaned in and gave me a brief kiss, mingling our flavors, then plopped down next to me so we were touching shoulder to foot. Surprisingly, what followed wasn't an uncomfortable silence. In fact, I hadn't been this comfortable in Vince's presence in a long time.

We had reached the 'what's next' stage, and it was Vince who acted first. I saw in his eyes his mind running through all of the enticing possibilities, just like mine was. But he settled on one first. "Fuck me."

God, those words went straight to my balls. "Don't believe in taking it slow, do you?"

"Never had time for slow before. Besides, we're not going fast, more like catching up. But," he teased, "if you want, we can wait..."

"Pfft. Yeah right. You've been fucked before?"

He nodded. I cringed at the thought that he had given so much control to total strangers. "How many times?"

He paused, counting silently on his fingers. "Eleven."

"Eleven guys or eleven times?

"I never saw the same guy twice."

I flinched but didn't say anything. Now didn't seem like the time for safety lectures. So, Vince wasn't a virgin but he was close.

"So, what do you like? You prefer to bottom?" I asked.

He considered, then shook his head. "Depends on the mood. I think I like it both ways about the same." 

"That's what I like to hear."

He looked a little surprised, and I can't say I could blame him. I liked getting fucked, but didn't get to very often. Mainly because I had to absolutely trust the person I was with (unlike Vince apparently), and most of the people I trusted that much were 600 miles away. It had been over a year and I was aching for it like never before. Almost as much as I was aching to be inside of Vince.

"I've thought about fucking you, too," Vince continued, seeming to read my mind, "how good you would feel. How I hope I could make it so good for you. I've never really had to for anybody until now." I smiled to myself. If I had anything to say we would be finding out very shortly. "But this time I want to feel you in me."

This time. Meaning there would be others. The words rang true. In the heat of the moment I didn't know what to think about that, so I didn't. I nodded, and his face split into a grin that was for all the world just like a kid on Christmas day. He rolled on top of me and I yelped as my bruised ribs were compressed. 

"Sorry, sorry," he gently rolled off onto his side so we were facing each other and kissed me, the taste of both our juices mingling on our tongues. He was already hard again, and so was I. I put my leg over him and we ground gently against each other, the edge gone but the need still burning strong. 

Vince kissed my neck, running his fingers through my thick chest hair, which he seemed to find fascinating. He found a nipple and played with it gently. It felt nice, but didn't send me to the moon like it did him. He looked at me.

"Not your spot?"

I shook my head.

"Where then?"

I grinned. "Find it."

He grinned back. "I like a challenge."

He spent the next fifteen minutes searching over every inch of my body, at least the parts that weren't black and blue. At twenty six years old this was his first time really exploring another man's body and he was taking full advantage. I kind of wished I could have provided a better sample for him, but he didn't complain.

My neck and the small of my back were erogenous zones, but not the big one. I told him to keep looking. He tried all over my torso, my navel, the crease where my leg joined my body, skimming his hands over my ass for much longer than necessary. He found one at my inner thigh that I wasn't even aware of. When I jumped he thought for sure he had it, but I patted his face and told him not to give up. 

He grunted in mock frustration, taking my palm and kissing it, carefully avoiding the scrapes. I stopped breathing, my body went stock still. He looked at my hand in his, then up at me, grinning victoriously. 

He held my hand in his, tracing his lips lightly over my palm and each finger. I had to clench me teeth to keep from squirming. When he licked across my palm I screamed and arched my back. He watched me in amazement. It was an odd turn on, I know. The second guy I had really been with had been the one to discover it. He had been one of the good ones. My brother's best friend, actually, but that's another story. He had once gotten me to within a dozen strokes of orgasm just by licking, sucking, and playing with my hands. Vince seemed bent on beating that record. He lightly nibbled the inside of my wrist, then sucked each finger with the same eagerness he did my cock. He traced the lines on my palm with the tip of his tongue. I had never been so turned on in my entire life as I was watching the most beautiful man in the world sucking on my fingers. As the heat zapped through my body I realized with amazement that I was precariously close to the edge.

"I love what you're doing," I gasped. "but you're getting me so close." He let my fingers pop out of his mouth.

"Damn," he laughed.

"What?"

"Your hands? That's a little weird. Hot as hell, but weird. But I definitely wouldn't want you to lose it so soon." he said, pulling me into a rough kiss that told me he was as worked up as I was. "Because I am so ready for you to fuck me." 

I responded by shoving him down onto his stomach on the bed. He was surprised but gave no resistance. I traced my hand down the warm, smooth skin of his back, setting off shudders and goose bumps, but Vince was too amped up for such foreplay to be anything but teasing. 

I moved down to his round, muscular ass, pausing for only a moment to admire what a masterpiece he was. I lubed up two fingers and slid them up and down his crack, finding his tight entrance. He hissed with excitement and urgency as I worked first one and then both into him. His body accepted them quickly but he was still so tight. I twisted them inside of him, knowing he wasn't very experienced, all the time kissing the back of his neck and shoulders. He wiggled and grunted, but I didn't let him rush me as I added a third. Finally he grabbed my wrist and forcibly removed my fingers from him. 

He looked at me over his shoulder. "Ready. Now." 

I got a condom out of my dresser drawer and got covered and slicked up. After some contemplation I lay down behind Vince in a spooning position on my right side, which had the fewest bruises. He swung a leg over me, and after some adjustment to avoid a scrape on my hip our bodies were fit together. Once I found the spot he didn't wait, but drove himself back onto me in one long, smooth movement until I was completely imbedded. I guess he was through with me taking it slow. The moment I was fully inside him was so perfect it was almost surreal. I closed my eyes and reminded myself to breathe. 

"Oh, shit," he groaned.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to pull out?" Dear God, please say no.

"No way," Vince grunted. "It's just weird. It doesn't hurt. It always hurt before." I felt a flash of anger at the eleven guys who apparently hadn't bothered to prep him. His back arched and he gave a long, tingly stretch, softly grinding my cock inside of him. "Oh my God, it feels so good." 

I reveled in the feeling his body adjusting to me, and soon I was rocking gently into him. As soon as I started moving Vince gave a sigh of relief and twisted his torso around and kissed me, not deep, just a long lingering brush of his soft lips, again, and again. He looked right in my eyes, his hand on the side of my face, as we moved together. I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding out of my chest. 

I changed angles, and could tell by the way he cursed that I had his prostate. His hand sped up on his cock, but I held his wrist.

"No rush."

He gave a shaky smile and nodded. 

I sped up a little, until he started breathing harder, but still slow and gentle. I was grateful that we had sucked each other off first or I would have blasted off in the first couple minutes, no matter how slow I took it. 

Vince started shaking, his kisses became more erratic, groaning and gasping into my mouth with each thrust. I pushed into him a little harder, testing him, and he cried out. I did it again, making our bodies slap together. He was practically babbling, urging me on in a near indecipherable combination of encouragement and blasphemies, all while still managing to find my lips from time to time. I wrapped my arm around his chest and held him close as I gave in and truly started to pound him. His hand abandoned his cock to reach back and tug on my hip, guiding me, silently demanding that I fuck him harder, faster. I gave him everything I had. 

He was unknowingly grasping a bruise on my hip, but I was too far along to care about anything other than the fact that the faintly registering pain would buy me another minute. I grabbed his face with my free hand and pulled him into a deep, searing kiss. His response was frantic as he tried to swallow my tongue. I remembered how sensitive his mouth was, so when he finally pulled away for air I sucked on his lower lip, then bit it, while scratching my fingernails over his nipple with the other. 

His whole body tensed, and he cried out into my mouth as he came spectacularly, with my cock buried deep inside him and my arms wrapped around his violently twisting body. I pulled back to watch him in shock. I had never made anyone come hands free before. His perfect cock jumped against his belly, sending streams of cum everywhere: across his torso, onto my hand grasping his heaving chest, and onto the bed. The muscles all over his body tensed and released rhythmically, standing out in stark relief against smooth skin that was flushed and sheened with sweat. His breathing was erratic, his eyes wild. But they caught and held mine, boring into me, in an expression so intense that I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. 

I was immediately on edge. While Vince was still in mid-orgasm I gave one final hard drive into him and exploded. 

Ho. Ly. Fuck.

I slid out of him and turned his body to face me. I couldn't tell which one of us was shaking the worst. 

I was well aware that this should probably be where the regret started to kick in, but strangely enough it wasn't. If anything I felt more and more okay with it as we came down off the sexual high.

"Well." I said at length.

"Well." Vince repeated.

"That was something."

Vince snorted, his arm draped over his eyes. "No shit."

I propped myself up on my elbows. "This is some motherfucker of a mess we're in now Vince."

"Uh-huh," He agreed. After a few moments he followed up, "But, for the record, you're the one who started it."

"Pfftt," I waved him off. "Bullshit. I seduced you? With moves like that nobody would buy your helpless naïve virgin routine for a second. You are one hot piece of ass and you know it."

Vince couldn't help but laugh. "Flatterer."

"So," I said, patting his chest, "I'm afraid we're in this together buddy." 

He placed his hand over mine and nodded. We were going to have a very serious discussion in the near future, but for now we were both fine putting it off.

I had to pull him to his feet, and then catch him to keep him from falling. I smiled smugly to myself that I was able to bring him to this state. 

We took a quick shower together. The stall was barely big enough for two people, but we managed. As we stood together under the soothing spray Vince took one of my hands in his, running his thumb along my scarred knuckles. He seemed fascinated by all of my scars and imperfections, I guessed because he himself was so physically perfect. Coming from his sheltered background I don't think he actually understood how I got them, which was just as well. 

We returned to my bed. I didn't ask him to sleep with me, and he didn't ask permission. My bed was a single, but he just got in next to me and curled around me so tight that there was room to spare. I closed my eyes, but he nudged me. 

"You're not supposed to sleep with a concussion."

"I don't have a concussion."

"You don't know that for sure." 

I twisted to face him with an eyebrow raised. "So, you're saying you just fucked a guy with possible brain trauma?" 

"All part of my devious plan," he kidded. "I never would have gotten you if you were in your right mind. Now keep your eyes open."




Just One of Those Things Ch. 04



"Fine," I grumbled, figuring that I'd have to wait ten minutes tops before he drifted off. But he didn't. Every few minutes his body would go stiff as he gave a big full bodied yawn, then he would poke me in the side to make sure I was still awake. It was just starting to get light out when we both finally drifted off to sleep. 

*********************************

As always, comments/constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated. 



Just One of Those Things Ch. 05



Vince

I woke up to the unfamiliar sensation of being curled up against a warm body in a strange bed. Looking over at the man next to me I smiled with the memory of last night. Strangely enough I didn't feel any remorse at what we had done. Quite the contrary. Once I had time to think about it I was sure that would change, but right then, in that moment, I felt a weight lifted that I had carried my entire life. I felt free.

Next to me Jack shifted slightly and gave an unconscious grunt of pain. I very carefully slid out of bed, smiling as he grumbled in his sleep and tried to hold onto me, and found some aspirin and a glass of water. The noise of the faucet running must have woken him because his eyes were open when I returned.

He looked at me, frowning blearily. "Hi."

I tensed. Was he going to be angry? Would he regret it? After all, he was oh-for-one when it came to this sort of post-sex situation. Come to think of it, did he even remember? Maybe he had hit his head harder than I thought. 

Well, in any case, at least he couldn't run away this time.

"Hi." I replied. "How do you feel?"

He laughed, and then cringed at the pain. "Like I got hit by a truck. But other than that, pretty fucking fantastic. You?"

I smiled back in relief at the absence of any imminent freak out. "Like I got well fucked."

"Good." He pulled himself into a sitting position, moving much more stiffly than last night. "God, I'll trade you." I handed him the water and aspirin. 

"Maybe next time." I half expected him to get cagey at the suggestion of another encounter, but he showed no surprise. "So," I asked, both relieved and scared at the implications, "not a one night thing then?"

"Hell no. I don't know about you, but I don't think I could do that just once." 

I simply nodded. "So, we're in this together?" I mirrored his words from last night.

"Sure are." 

I didn't ask yet what 'this' was, though I knew we would be discussing it soon. But for the first time in my life I felt right in my own skin, and I wasn't ready to let the feeling go.

Any 'moment' was quickly over when Jack asked, "So, granted you aren't exactly a master chef, but can you manage some eggs? I'm starving, but I can barely fucking move right now."

Actually, so was I. We had never gotten around to dinner last night. "As long as you don't mind scrambled."

I went to the kitchen, which was about ten feet from the foot of the bed in his tiny studio apartment, and got to work on breakfast. Meanwhile Jack spent five minutes just getting out of bed, splitting the time between stretching out his bruised limbs and following my every movement with a sexy smirk. I realized that we were both still naked. I just grinned to myself and let him watch. 

Eventually Jack limped over to the window while I cooked the four eggs I had found in his tiny under-counter fridge. Which, I noted, was nearly empty. "Snow plow's been through," he commented. He sat down at his laptop and checked the university's home page and his email. "And no cancellations. Looks like we're going to school. Lucky we only have afternoon classes, but we need to hurry if we're going to get there on time."

He sat down as I served the eggs. Which, I realized as I took the first bite, I had somehow rendered the texture of rubber. "Gleh!" he spat. "God, you weren't kidding about always ordering out." He covered his eggs with pepper. "No more cooking for you."

"Well, so much for the honeymoon phase, huh?"

"Seriously? If you expect me suddenly to be all sweet and cuddly just because I'm tapping your ass, you've got another thing coming."

I laughed and shook my head. No pretenses. That's what I loved about him.

I wore the same pants from last night but Jack lent me some underwear and socks, and a shirt that was only a size too small. I looked at the shirt and then back to Jack, but before I could open my mouth he read my mind.

"Don't worry, I never wear it to school. Nobody'll know it's mine." It was the first verbal acknowledgment of the reality of what we were doing, but was quickly forgotten.

We were pretty much ready to go, except Jack didn't have anything on over his tee shirt. I picked his coat off the ground where he had left it last night and grimaced. Covered in tears and blood stains, it had definitely lost the fight with the pavement. 

"You know," I offered, "I have a couple old coats at home that might fit you."

He gave me an odd look, then shrugged and pulled a hooded sweatshirt off his cinder-block and plywood shelf and pulled it over his head. "Nah, I'm good. I'll patch it this weekend."

The coat didn't look salvageable, but something about his tone told me not to argue.

We didn't have time to dig out both cars, so we took mine, knowing without saying so that I would be back that evening.



Jack

I went through the first part of the day in a haze, only partially caused by the bump on my head. My brain was ready to chew my ass out over last night. That I had let it happen in the first place was bad enough. But the kicker was that I had every intention of doing it again. I was sick and tired of running away from this thing between Vince and me, and after last night it would be torture to continue trying. I just wasn't going to do it anymore, no matter what it would cost me down the road. If that made me an idiot, then I was an idiot.

When it came time for Constitutional Law Vince sat next to me in the front row, as he frequently did before our falling out. I smiled to myself when he sat gingerly on the hard seat, wincing almost imperceptibly. My eye caught Julian's a few seats down. He had seen it too. And he definitely wasn't smiling. Shit.

Julian was waiting for me in the hallway after class.

"Hey Jack. How're you doing? You look pretty beat up."

I shrugged. "I'm really fine." I had been a broken record with that all day. Not saying so in a macho way, but this was nothing. Even after having been away from home for close to seven years I was still surprised how squeamish people were, even though I realized that it was my perception that was off, not theirs. 

"You really scared me you know," he continued. He actually looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep last night, which made me guilty.

"It was stupid. I should have watched where I was going. I'm really sorry for freaking you out man."

"Yeah, well..." He stood silently examining his shoes. He was working up to something. He pulled me away to a quiet corner, but still didn't say anything.

"So," he said at length.

"So," I repeated.

Another long pause. "So. You and Vince, huh?"

I sighed. I wouldn't insult Julian by denying it. 

He shook his head with a quiet curse. "I didn't even know he was... You do know he's getting married, right?"

"Yeah."

"You don't think that's going to change because of you, do you?"

"No." 

"Shit," he cursed, frustrated with my monosyllabic answers. "I never imagined you were the kind of guy to fall into that trap. I thought you had more self-respect than that."

I gave him a warning look, but he ignored me. "When you told me there was someone else... I wondered... I even tried to figure out who it was... but I never thought for a second that you meant Vince. I noticed you two were weird lately...but this... I mean, Vince fucking Tomlison?"

I cringed. I don't think I'd ever heard him use the word 'fuck' before. "What do you want me to say?"

"How about that you made a huge mistake. That you're not going to see him anymore and get on with your life."

"Sorry." It was lame, but what else could I say?

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Life isn't a John Lennon song Jack. You do need more than love."

I bit back a laugh. "That's good."

He couldn't help but smile back. He was so fucking adorable. But his face immediately darkened again. "God damn it. It isn't a joke."

"A joke? Do I look like I think this is funny? Do I strike you as someone with his head in the clouds? I know what I'm getting into here." 

"But he's so bad for you." The fight was going out of his voice.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Of course not." He paused. "You know, unless you want me to. You must really be crazy about him, and you'd have a real shot at him if he were outed. And he couldn't blame you because I figured it out on my own." He was half joking, but I knew he would do it if I asked him. But it didn't matter because I would never betray Vince like that.

I shook my head.

He shuffled a little, and tried to smile. He was so damned sweet. Why couldn't I still want him instead of Vince? "It just... really sucks, losing out to a guy who's going to treat you like a dirty secret, you know? Neither of us deserve that."

"He wouldn't..." I realized that arguing was counterproductive, so I stopped myself. "I'm so sorry, Julian. I wish you weren't involved. You've been such a good friend. And you're right, you don't deserve this. I really wish things had been different. But I think I've got to play this out. I think he's worth it."

Julian frowned but nodded. "I hope so, I really do. But if he isn't..." He squeezed my hand, then walked away. I paused to once more reflect on the totally absurdity of me turning Julian down. That had to be a rough blow to the guy's ego. I wished him better luck next time, putting any thoughts of what could have been out of my head.



Vince

I watched Jack and Julian find a quiet place to talk with the uneasy feeling that someone else was in on my little secret. Jack returned a few minutes later, silent except to insist that nothing was wrong. On the car ride back to his place he related the conversation. I wasn't thrilled, but I knew Julian wouldn't say anything. We were friends (or had been - I doubt I was high up on his list of favorite people right now), and even though he had every reason to want to hurt me, it simply wasn't in his nature. 

On another topic, I was pleased that, in spite of this morning's teasing, I had managed to keep my mind on my work today. If anything, I was more focused than I had been in more than a month now that the restless tension that had been driving me up the wall was gone. Only now that Jack and I were alone together in my car did I allow any impure thoughts to take hold, but once I did they quickly gained the upper hand. I had gone months before without having sex with minimal effect, but right now, the fifteen hours since we had been together were weighing on me like I couldn't believe. 

The moment we got back to his apartment I attacked him, pushing him up against the wall, stifling his objection with my mouth, sliding my hands under his shirt, seeking that warm, electric contact of skin on skin. I pulled a stunned Jack the few feet to the bed, then pushed him into a sitting position. I was a little bit crazy with the knowledge that all the things I never let myself think about, all those half-formed fantasies that came unbidden in the moments before release, were all now at my fingertips. 

"Let me get you off," I murmured in his ear, grinding myself against him. "I want to get you off."

"Mfgh..." 

I paused. "What?"

He put a hand over his mouth and laughed. "Shit, you actually made me forget how to talk for a second."

"Thanks." I was already yanking off his pants and shorts. "I want to suck you off."

Not allowing him to recover from my onslaught I pulled off his shirt a little too roughly (I kept forgetting the bruises) and then mine. I just managed to get the slightly too tight tee shirt Jack had lent me untangled from my head before I grabbed his cock and swallowed it to the root, at the same time fishing my own out of my pants and beginning to stroke it. 

Deep throating him was easier this time. I honestly hadn't given very many blow jobs before, but from the beginning I seemed to be some sort of natural at it. A sort of cocksucking prodigy I guess. It was something that deep down I was proud of, despite the environment I was raised in telling me I should be ashamed of myself. But when I heard Jack's pleasured noises, the grunts and whimpers, the way his fingers wrapped in my hair and his body jerked under my touch, I knew that there was nothing in the world wrong with what I was doing to him. 

Still, there was no possible way he wanted this more than I did. Ever since he had freaked out at my apartment and rebuffed my attempt to return the blow job he had given me it had become sort of an obsession. And now I couldn't get enough. 

Very soon I felt his body stiffen, and any thought I may have had about drawing this out disappeared in my overwhelming desire to taste him again. I took him all the way in and gulped around the head lodged in my throat, and moments later he gave a muffled, inarticulate scream and started filling my mouth. God, I could get used to this. I was so turned on that I felt my own body on the precipice. Sensing this Jack yanked me onto the bed in a kneeling position, taking me into his mouth. I didn't last more than a couple bobs of his head. When I came I jerked my hips unintentionally, making him pull away and causing my spurting dick to slide out of his mouth and shoot a stream across his cheek. He grabbed the base and sucked me again, his hand keeping me from going too deep this time, drawing out my orgasm until I collapsed half way on top of him in a trembling pile. He jabbed me on the side, making me roll off of him, then lay next to me on the bed, gripping my hand in his. 

I looked at Jack, flat on his back, his chest heaving, eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling, streaks of my cum still painted across his face. He really was beautiful. I don't know how I didn't see it before. I crawled up his body to look at him better, etching the image into my memory before gently licking him clean.

I placed a gentle kiss on his lips, and Jack surprised me by grabbing my head and forcing his tongue into my mouth, stealing what I had just licked off. "Hey," I laughed poking him in the side. "That was mine."

"Oh yeah? Come here and get it then." And I tried my best. Long afterwards I was still half way on top of him, kissing him deeply and starting to get hard again. This time I was in no rush, just lost myself in the surprisingly intense pleasure of our lips pressed together, our tongues slowly stroking, penetrating to explore his mouth and then mine. Just this, right now, was more satisfying than any sex I had ever had before. He lightly bit my lip and I gasped, my cock suddenly jumping to full erection.

"Hmm," he said, "that's good to know." I was only just beginning to learn how sensitive my mouth was. 

"You know," he said, smiling and stretching his lean body, "for a guy who hasn't kissed much you're pretty damned good at it."

"I never kissed anyone before you."

His smile faded. "I was your first kiss?"

I nodded. "My first real one anyway."

"Oh. Sorry."

With the other guys I picked up it was always get in, get off, get out. I thought it would be better that way, to not know. I guess I was going to find out if I was right.

We showered together again, touching a lot but both still mellow and in no rush to take things further for the moment, then decided to hit the books before round two sapped our remaining energy.

While we got our materials spread out, or as spread out as we could get in the tiny space, a worrying thought occurred to me. "Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I should quit the Con Law study group?" 

"What, because of Julian?"

"Yeah." My classwork always took first priority, but I really didn't want to rub salt in the poor guy's wounds.

"Julian isn't exactly the spiteful type. Hell, if anyone should be avoiding him it's me. Besides, can you really afford to quit?"

I sighed. "No. Not really." 

"Just steer clear of him for a while. You can get help from Lisa, she owes us for fixing her car."

"If you say so." I didn't want to put more of a guilt trip on Jack, so I didn't point out the seemingly obvious fact that what Julian was feeling looked a lot more like heartbreak than spite. 

By seven o'clock I was, miracle of miracles, completely caught up on Evidence and Remedies. I closed my books with a rare sense of accomplishment. Jack noticed and gave me a pointed look across the flimsy card table that served as his dining room. 

"So what do you want to do now? We have time for a movie." Under the table his socked foot crept up my ankle to my inner thigh. "What're you in the mood for?" In answer I stripped naked in a matter of five seconds then jumped onto the bed, waiting for him with a raised eyebrow.

"So, no movie then?" he laughed.

"What do you think?"

He joined me on the bed and I commenced undressing him, more careful of his bruises this time.

He traced a rough hand down the center of my chest, making me shiver. "We didn't get into it much yesterday, but, what all have you done?"

"Blowjobs, fucking, getting fucked... But honestly, I don't know what all's out there. I didn't really talk to the guys I fucked, and I never did any research. I figured I didn't need to know." Well, that was clearly over with.

"Ever been rimmed?"

"What's that?"

Jack laughed. "Ever had your ass licked?"

"Wow, I've never even thought of that." But now that I did... "Sounds hot."

"You didn't even blush. Good for you."

"You'll have to do a lot better than that. I haven't met a part of a man's body I didn't like. I'm not embarrassed about it."

"Hot damn Vince. You are something else." 

I was eager to act on this new information, but strongly suspected that things would get pretty hot and heavy from there, and I was in an exploratory mood. So, like last night, Jack held still and let me have the run of his body. And like last night, I was drawn to all the little imperfections. It didn't take a close inspection to see that he had a lot of scars. Small ones on his face, one not so small one on his scalp above his right ear. A really ugly one partially obscured by the hair on his right forearm. Also, at least five of his ribs, one on the left, four on the right, had bumps in them like they had been broken. When he stretched his slender body out I could even see a couple of the uneven spots pressed up against his skin. 

It didn't surprise me that he had been a little wild. Still a little wild, I thought, examining the bruises and scrapes covering his body. Chasing someone into traffic wasn't exactly a normal reaction to the situation. I kind of wondered what he was planning to do if he caught the guy. Probably lucky it hadn't come to that. He was so much different from the buttoned up crowd I was used to. He was so far from perfect, but everything about him was genuine. He was better than perfect. He was real.

And right now he was mine.

But he wasn't going to wait forever. I gave a surprised yelp as he flipped me off of him then just as quickly pinned me on my stomach. I liked the fact he could manhandle me despite being considerably smaller. 

"Wacha doin'?" I said over my shoulder.

"Something I should have done yesterday." 

He licked behind my ear, making me shiver, then slid down my body. He traced his hands along the contours of my back as he went, along my obliques and down my spine. For a moment he was straddling my hips, his hands braced on my upper arms. Even though he was considerably smaller than me, right then he had me completely pinned. I had a sudden flash of how hot it would be for him to fuck me like this. I had never been with another man that I knew or trusted enough that I would even consider giving him that much control. I grinned over my shoulder and wiggled my ass. I felt his cock twitch from where it was nestled between my cheeks. 

"There's a thought," he said before he moved down farther, "Maybe later." I felt his hands on my ass, spreading it open, his face nuzzled into my crack. My heart rate picked up. His finger swiped over my hole and I screamed a curse into the pillow. "Damn, you are sensitive aren't you?"




Just One of Those Things Ch. 05



I nodded vigorously into the pillow. 

The first swipe of his tongue across my tender flesh forced all the air out of my lungs. My mind went blank, and I was barely aware of the whimpering noise I was emitting. If he hadn't taken an occasional break to nip and lap at my inner thighs and ass cheeks I might have passed out from oxygen deprivation. I found myself scrambling up onto my knees to give him better access, and he took immediate advantage by pressing his tongue past the first ring of muscle. My vision flashed white, and if he hadn't been holding my hips I would have ended up flat on my stomach again. How could anything possibly feel this good?

I'm sure I could have come from this alone, but he deliberately held off, never letting me get too far along. I had just enough awareness to make a complaining noise when he finally pulled away. I was planning on flipping him over and returning the favor once I gathered my wherewithal, but Jack was thinking a few steps ahead.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

My heart lurched in a combination of raw excitement and sudden nerves and I turned around to face him. I have to admit I was surprised. Knowing him like I did I didn't expect him to be willing to put himself in such a vulnerable position so soon, but I wasn't going to argue.

He misinterpreted my surprised pause. "You don't have to..."

"Hell yes I want to," I breathed. "It's just, I've only done it a few times before, and the goal was to get off as quick as possible, not to make the other guy feel good."

"Okay, last night you nearly got me off playing with my hands. I think you'll do fine." With a sexy smile he pulled me up flush to his body and kissed me. "And if you don't you'll just have to try again...and again..." I couldn't help but smile back at him. I might not have much experience, at least not doing this right, but I knew a pretty good place to start.

"Hands and knees," I commanded.

His nearly black eyes grew wide with misgiving. I laughed at him.

"Geez, give me some credit. I'm not that inexperienced."

He dropped down to all fours. As I moved behind him he realized what I was going to do and with a sigh he dropped his chest down to the bed and relaxed into a posture of surrender that sent a shiver through my body. 

I stroked his thighs and ass, reveling in the tight, wiry muscle underneath his warm skin, the coarse hair that reminded me so irresistibly that this was a man. I let my hands roam down between his cheeks, feeling the silky hair, lightly stroking from his tailbone down to his balls, making him jerk lightly and stifle a laugh. I parted them with my thumbs and leaned forward to taste him. I had never considered this act until tonight, but now I definitely saw the draw. Knowing how it felt from the other side spurred me on, but honestly, once I got started I didn't need any encouragement.

After an indeterminate amount of time I sucked a finger to wet it and slid it in to the knuckle with almost no resistance. After a moment of tension in his body he pushed back against me and asked for another. This one went in fairly easily too. The third took a little more work. He told me he was ready but I kept at it for another minute, twisting and prodding at that knot deep inside him that made him gasp and buck back into me. 

Until last night, every time I had been fucked it had hurt like hell, even though the pleasure always won out in the end. In my almost nonexistent knowledge of such things I thought that was how it was supposed to be. But I knew better now, and I wanted to make sure Jack was ready. I figured he would let me know when he was.

Sure enough, he finally had had enough and he turned around and shoved me back into a sitting position, straddling my lap. We began a fumbling laughing race to get the lube and condoms out of the bed stand without breaking our position. He tried to roll the condom onto me, but from his position in my lap was finding it difficult. I took over, but was having trouble because of the way he was sucking my bottom lip.

"You'd better stop that or this'll be over before it starts."

Finally I got it and after a heavy application of lube for both of us Jack was holding me in position against his entrance while my hands held his hips. 

The look on his face was suddenly very serious. 

When I first breached him he gasped and his body jerked under my hands, but after a moment of controlled breathing he slid down onto me very, very slowly, in little thrusts until he bottomed out in my lap. I don't think he breathed the whole way down because when he bottomed out he let out big whoosh.

I had never taken the time to really savor this moment, to just let myself feel and revel in the sensation of being inside of another human being. But, even if I had, I knew it wouldn't have felt anywhere near this good.

I became worried when I realized that Jack wasn't moving. Despite his previous confidence he was clutching me now, fingernails digging into my skin, trembling, his eyes squeezed shut. Whatever it was it wasn't physical pain, more like intense concentration. 

"Are you okay? Do you need me to..."

He opened his eyes a crack and let out a shuddering breath. "It's just really... intense. Give me a minute." 

I nodded.

But even after a minute he was still painfully tense and I was starting to get worried that something was wrong. He shook his head and gave a frustrated grunt. He opened his mouth to apologize but I cut him off.

"Do you still want to do this?"

"You have no fucking idea." His tone left no doubt. My misgivings vanished, but not my concern.

"Then take as long as you need." I reassured him. His expression remained incredulous, telling me this was the point where his partner usually started to get impatient. "You have no idea how amazing you feels. You are so fucking tight, so hot. I've never felt anything this good in my entire life." Indeed, Jack was tighter than anyone I had ever fucked by a wide margin. Even though he was motionless I felt the small movements around my cock as his body adjusted to my invasion, pulling me in, seating me, welcoming my presence, even if his mind wasn't quite there yet.

Jack's eyes were still closed, but I could see a smile twitch at the corner of his lips. "Yeah?" 

"Uh-huh. I bet you wouldn't even have to move to make me come." I took his hand and moved it suggestively to my sensitive nipple.

Taking the pressure off seemed to settle him down. He rubbed my chest, but purposely avoided my nipples. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna need you nice and hard real soon, so don't you get too excited."

That made me grin.

Eventually the tenseness left his body. He ran his hands through my hair, slowly kissing my forehead, my eyes, my nose, my chin, and finally my lips with a light brush of his. I moved slightly and that seemed to set him off, because he took my face in both of his hands, tilted it slightly to the side and kissed me deep. As his tongue entered my mouth he started moving in slow strokes, pausing each time as he bottomed out and grinding his ass into my hips. 

I wrapped my arms around him, running my hands up and down his back and sides, taking special pleasure in feeling the tight muscles flex in his ass and thighs and feeling the spot where I entered him. 

Jack had still been slightly shaking, moving his hands and lips erratically over me, and it seemed like whatever he had been keeping in check finally broke out. He suddenly untangled my arms from him and shoved me down flat on the bed, and began riding me hard, hands braced on my chest for leverage, raking his fingernails over my over sensitized skin, moving like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. I could only groan and struggle to repress the orgasm that was welling up in me far too quickly. He must have known because he reached behind and tugged my balls hard enough to make me yip but not go soft, staving off my imminent release.

"You could have just slowed down," I complained.

He replied with a slightly dazed but still wicked grin, never letting up his pace.

I wanted him to get there with me, so I took the hand on my chest and licked the index and middle fingers. We both groaned when he slid his fingers into my mouth. I was happy to suck them, which made him start to move in a slightly jerky reflexive manner. Remembering last night, I launched a full scale attack on his hand – licking and biting his fingers, palm, wrist. He gave a strangled cry and dug the fingernails of his other hand painfully into my pectoral, pushing himself onto me faster and harder. 

Jesus, for a slow starter he was something else once he got going. If I had any capacity for rational thought I would have feared for the integrity of his crappy little bed, which was creaking ominously and putting some serious dents in the wall. I took the middle three fingers into my mouth and started sucking them hard. His body shook and he ripped his hand away so he could lean down and plaster his mouth to mine. In the process he trapped his cock between our bodies, giving him the little extra stimulation he needed to trip. Two more rough drives onto my cock and he was coming, his hot semen flooding my stomach, crying out into my mouth even as he tried to eat me alive. 

Finally he lay on top of me, breathing hard, sweat and cum making our bodies slippery against each other. He tried to move against me, to help me to the release I desperately needed, but I don't think he was even fully conscious. 

I grabbed his hips to flip us over so that he would be under me, desperate from the need to come, but as soon as I did he jerked out of his dazed post-orgasmic state and dug his knees into the bed, stopping me.

I think he was immediately going to apologize and let me go ahead, but I didn't give him a chance to.

Instead of flipping him I lifted him a few inches and began drilling up into him hard and fast. Despite being on the bottom I was in complete control. He gasped from the sensitivity he felt after coming, but made no indication that I should stop. Which was good, because once I got going I don't know if I could have. He had his eyes squeezed shut, his body shaking, whimpering and making animalistic noises that started out as curses but never quite formed into full words. He was making me feel like one hell of a stud.

Still, I was shocked when he gasped and I felt something hot and wet splatter my chest. I realized I had inadvertently been hammering his prostate because he was coming again, this time untouched. And from the look of heated shock on his face it was a new one for him. I was already close, and that knowledge put me right over the top. My vision flashed white and I held his hips in a white-knuckled grip so I could drive into him as deeply as I could as I came.

When I slowly drifted back I realized Jack was collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily but steadily. "Oh my fucking God," he muttered, making me smile smugly. I shifted to pull out of him, which only elicited a slight grunt, and discarded the condom but stayed just where I was, underneath him, reveling in the full body contact. I had never remembered feeling so content and comfortable in my own skin in my entire life. This was how it was supposed to be. This was perfect. I took a deep breath inhaling the smell of sex and Jack, and smiled. Absolutely perfect.

When I looked at him again he was giving me an odd look. Almost apprehensive. It struck me that he was wondering if I had been disappointed with the experience.

I smiled at him and rubbed small circles on his sweat slick back. "That was amazing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. By far the best time I've ever had fucking someone. You okay?" It was a deliberately broad question, but he didn't bite.

"Mmm," he hummed with a satisfied smile. "Damn, I don't know what you were worried about. That was fantastic. Seriously. I've never come like that from getting fucked."

I stroked my fingers up and down his spine and he smiled that smile of his and closed his eyes again. 

The spoilsport voice of reason crept into my head as I watched him drift off on my chest. You can't have him Vince. You can fuck him all you want, but he's never going to be yours. Duly admonished, I followed Jack into an uneasy sleep.

***************

When I woke up early the next morning Jack was already gone and his spot in the bed was cold. I opened my eyes and saw him just a few feet away at the kitchen counter, eating something from a bowl and looking over his notes. He looked focused so I didn't bother him before I went to the bathroom and took a quick shower. 

"There's some cereal in the kitchen." Jack greeted me when I came out, still not looking up.

"What are you eating?" I asked, looking at the lumpy discolored mass in his bowl.

"Rice and soy sauce."

"Ugh."

"Hey, hundreds of millions of people eat this for breakfast every day. Besides Mr. Epicure, there was only enough cereal left for one person."

"Oh. Thanks." Part of the reason we had mostly hung out at my place, aside from the fact that Jack's apartment was the size of a walk in closet and smelled like Chinese food, was that I felt bad eating his perpetually limited supply of food. 

As I passed him on my way to the fridge he looked up from his notes for the first time and looked me up and down, a grin spreading across his face. I became aware that I was still completely undressed. It seemed to be becoming a habit. My cock started to plump up under his gaze.

Jack groaned and looked away. "Seriously, again? For God's sake, go put some pants on or we'll end up late for class." 

After a brief search I found my pants from last night half way under the bed. I laughed to myself as I tugged them on, starting to really like the way I affected Jack. Objectively, I was a good looking man. But he was the first person to make me feel truly desirable.

But Jack was staring at me again, mouth open slightly, as I stood there barefoot and shirtless in nothing more a pair of faded jeans. I shrugged, suppressing a smirk. "You said..."

"Holy fuck, that's almost worse. Just get dressed. All the way dressed."

"You're the boss."

After I got dressed I found a mostly empty box of supermarket brand toasted-o's on the counter and opened his tiny under-counter fridge. Aside from a couple condiments there was only a carton of milk with maybe half a cup left and two greasy take out boxes of rice. 

It was all business from there as we prepared for classes. Or, rather, I prepared while Jack helped me with the gaps in my notes and filled me in on some cases I should have read last night. I scolded myself. I needed to focus. I couldn't afford to fall behind even a little, no matter what my dick had to say. Speaking of which...

"You know," I mentioned, "I have a study session for Civil Procedure until late tonight."

"That's fine. I've got the support group tonight anyway. After what happened Monday it's going to be a long one." Although the film had been destroyed, he had spent the last two days anxious that the photographer incident had scared a couple kids off permanently. Even now he was rankled talking about it.

"Friday morning, then?" 

"Sure. Come on, we need to go dig out my car."

***************

I showed up at Jack's apartment Friday morning with a couple coffees, a hot chocolate, and half a dozen muffins and crullers from a coffee shop near my apartment. 

Jack gave me an incredulous look when I placed the elaborate pastries in front of him. "You didn't have to..."

"It's no big deal you know," I interrupted. "Just try one."

He picked up the nearest pastry and begrudgingly took a bite. "It's good. Look, I appreciate the thought, really. And I know it's just breakfast, but, in the future, I would really prefer if you didn't buy things for me."

"Oh." I started. "Yeah, of course." I chastised myself. I was thinking about our relationship all wrong, treating it as what I would like it to be rather than as what it was. Of course Jack wouldn't want anything from me. Even a cruller or a hand me down coat would be a dent in his dignity. This wasn't like me.

I knew then it was time to face facts.

I set down my breakfast and settled into my chair. "Time to talk, huh?"

Jack was on the same page. "Yeah, I think so."

I nodded for him to go ahead. This was his show. He was getting the shit end of the stick here, so whatever he said, that's what we would do. If he told me to go I would, but the selfish truth was I would take anything he was willing to give me.

"Are you still going to go through with the wedding?" 

I had no doubt whatsoever that he already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it from me. It wasn't about what I wanted, and he knew that better than anyone. 

"Yes." 

"Is that okay?"

"Okay?" 

"You know what I mean. Can you live with that?"

"You know how I feel about that bull..." Jack caught himself. He had always been, if not exactly supportive, at least accepting of my plans to marry. "I understand why, in your mind, you've got to do it. I really do. I don't agree, but I get it. And I won't try to talk you out of it either, it's too important to you." I noted that he hadn't actually answered my question, but didn't push it. Still, I felt a rush of relief at his words.

"Thank you."

"So," Jack continued, "here's how it stands from my point of view. We can pretend this is the end and go our separate ways, promise never to see each other again. But I already played that game and I'm done with it. I'd have to be a pretty dumb bastard to act like I'm not going to keep fucking you every chance I get. Unless you tell me to get lost."

Me tell him to get lost? Fat chance of that happening.

"Well?" he pushed for my response.

"Ditto." I had realized that first night that this was not going to be a one night thing. Or one week. Or one year. And, realistically, I knew if I tried to stay away (absent Jack's specific admonition, which he was clearly not giving) I would just end up back at his door anyway. I mean, I hadn't been able to control myself when it came to nameless pickups in bars, what chance in hell did I stand now? "So," I asked, "where does that leave us?"

"When's the wedding?" 

"The New Year's Day after we graduate."

"That's still two years away. Two years is a lot of time."

"It is, but, why should you waste it with me when you could do so much better?" Jack didn't have a reason in hell to stick with me for another minute, much less two years.

"Vince, I understand that there's no possible way you and me can work out. I'm not delusional. But I think we're already way past the point where no one gets hurt. And I'd rather have two years than nothing."

"I don't have anything to offer you."

"I think I'll decide that. Do you want this?"

Was he kidding? "Of course I want it, but you shouldn't feel like you have to..."

"It's my choice," Jack responded simply. He leaned forward with a sly smile and patted my cheek. "And I promise, when I get sick of you you'll be the first to know."

"You'd better." I meant it too.

"So," he said, his smile turning seductive, "now that we've gotten that out of the way, I have some thoughts for this weekend..." 

Would we one day regret our decision? I couldn't say. But right then I didn't think so.