Arabian Nights by RJ
This story is about the relationship between two young men who have been best friends their whole lives.
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~ Chapter 3 ~
It's usually the same thing every time: after our workout, we hit the locker room, and Zane heads into the showers while I hang back to stretch. Zane will sing through a full song before he gets out of the shower, and by then, I will have stretched sufficiently. It's our unofficial routine. However, after thinking about him so intensely last night, I woke up realizing that my curiosity hasn't waned. Not in the slightest. Even while we were working out, I kept eyeing Zane's musculature bulging in his tank top and nearly-see-through gym shorts. I realized I was focusing way more on him than myself, and too often did I have to force my attention away from his body. It's distracting. HE'S distracting. And he doesn't even know it.
As I sit on the bench in front of our lockers, I hear the water turn on in the adjacent shower area, quickly followed by Zane's crooning voice. Frank Sinatra again. I smile slightly before I bite my lip, stretching my leg in a half-assed way since most of my energy is being used to visualize Zane right now. He's probably soaping himself up, the water and suds sliding over every muscle, every contour, every... I blink a few times to shake that image out of my head. Jesus Christ, what's happening to me? Don't tell me Jason was right about me.
Zane is a quarter way through "The Way You Look Tonight" by now, so if I want to catch a glimpse, I have to act quickly. Sneakily, I head over to the communal showers, my heart racing as I poke my head around the corner and peer in. Zane took one of the middle showers on the left and is currently washing his hair, eyes closed as he stands completely under the shower head. He looks like a god, even from the back. Greek or Roman, I'm not sure, but one of those heroic, admirable types. And I'm just the creep who's ogling my friend's ass.
I don't know what compels me to do it. I don't even really think about it. Not consciously, anyway. All I know is, one second I'm picturing myself standing next to Zane, and the next, I'm stripping out of my clothes, tossing them near our lockers, and then rounding the corner. I step into the communal showers and choose the head that's right next to Zane's. Since his eyes are still closed, he doesn't even notice me, singing his heart out until I turn the water on. He pauses, pulling his face away from his spray and opening his eyes in surprise before he notices that it's me. He laughs, looking both relieved and intrigued. "Well look who it is," he says, quickly eyeing me.
"Don't stop singing 'cause of me," I say with a smile, rinsing off my body lightly.
"You're funny," he says, smirking slightly. I know he doesn't like to sing in front of people. It's a shyness thing. "I'm surprised you're joining me."
"I worked up a decent sweat," I lie. Zane even looks at me skeptically for a moment because he knows I don't sweat all that much, but he doesn't seem to think much of it. He just shrugs. "Hand me the soap."
"Gonna have to share," he says, grabbing his bottle of body wash. He squirts some into his palm before passing the bottle to me. I watch him as he starts with his torso, scrubbing his armpits before lathering up his chest and then rinsing himself off. I follow a similar pathway, starting with my upper body before making my way lower. We keep having to pass the bottle back and forth but we seem to find a decent enough rhythm. Plus, it gives me plenty of chances to look in his direction. When Zane gets to his crotch, I watch his hand massage that thick piece of manhood between his legs. He tugs on it a bit, making me bite my lip. Why does it look so... interesting?
To be honest, I've always been a little fascinated by Zane's cock because he's uncut and I'm not. I remember when I was younger, I had asked Baba why Zane's looked so different from mine. He had all this extra skin at the end of his penis, and the head of mine was always out and about. Baba just chuckled, giving me a little smile and a quick explanation, but not before saying that he wished I had been left "intact." I was delivered to him already circumcised, apparently. It's a common practice, especially among Muslims, but it's not mandatory, and Baba's disdain for the fact that I'm circumcised makes me wonder if I'm the odd one out or something. Is he uncircumcised too? What about Seth? I've often wondered.
That's another reason I find Zane's body so intriguing. Aside from some occasional light manscaping around his pubes, he's his raw self: intact, scruffy in a charmingly unkempt way, never fusses over his body hair, never tries to drastically alter his appearance. Not that he has to. He's sexy as is. I feel my face get warm when I think that thought, but it's the truth. Zane is sexy. Period.
"Mind if we swing by my parents' before we head back?" he asks suddenly.
I pull my eyes away from his lower body and look up at him. "Your parents? Why?"
Zane gives me a strange look before turning his head away.
Instantly, I know what he's talking about. What he's planning. "Zane, no."
"It's killing me, dude," he says, looking at me in a pleading sort of way. "It's making me twitchy 'n shit."
"Do you really have to tell him TODAY?" I ask. It feels too soon. Baba has gone his whole life without telling Seth, and probably for good reason. Maybe Zane should take a leaf out of Baba's book if he wants to maintain a relationship with his father.
"I thought about it all night," he says, running his fingers through his wet hair. "I wanna do it."
"But--"
"Stop trying to convince me otherwise."
"I'm just saying, you should think about it more," I tell him. "You don't know what this could do to our unit." Of course, I'm referring to the bond between my family and Zane's. If Seth freaks out or does something drastic, what's going to happen to all of us? Even if it ends up being us versus Seth, it's a disruption that none of us want to deal with.
Zane looks positively distraught when I make that point. He looks down at his feet, sighing. "I don't know," he says in a broken voice.
I don't understand why Zane is so adamant on telling his father all of a sudden. He's spent a decade under the radar. Why now? But I try to be supportive, and I reach over and pat his arm affectionately. "There's no rush, man. You should wait for the right moment."
"When IS the right moment?" he asks.
I shrug. I don't have the answers. "Maybe when you have someone you want to introduce to the family," I suggest. "Someone serious."
He snorts. "Like that'll happen," he says bitterly before punching the shower faucet in and shutting the water off. I raise my eyebrows, surprised by this small but sudden burst of aggression. He just grabs his towel off the hook, snatches up his body wash, and leaves the showers altogether.
I finish up in the shower pretty quickly after that. I hadn't anticipated showering, so when I head back into the locker space, I ask to borrow Zane's towel. Those are all the words we exchange, though. By the time I've dried off, he's fully dressed, and he silently waits for me to get some fresh clothes on before leading the way out.
We head into the parking lot still without speaking, and when I hop into my car, I watch Zane slide into the passenger seat with a sigh. He shuts the door and puts a foot up on the dash as he chews on his nails and looks out the window. I don't make any moves to buckle up or start the car yet. I just look at him for a few moments. "Everything okay?" I ask, finally breaking the silence.
He looks towards me before softening a bit. "Sorry. Yeah," he says. "I'm just all in my feelings right now."
"What's up?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. I don't wanna sound like a sap."
I smile. "I won't judge."
He glances at me, debating for a few moments. Then: "I'm just worried I'm not getting anywhere."
"With...?"
"Relationships," he says. "All my relationships have been so... short."
I laugh once through my nose. "Yeah, I know that feeling."
But he doesn't appreciate me trying to relate to him. "It's not the same, man," he says. "You like to fuck around. I don't." Harsh, but he's right. I've never portrayed myself as the type of guy who's ready to settle down in a relationship yet. In fact, I think I've always been afraid of that. What if I regret it down the line? "It's hard not to be cynical after a while," Zane says.
I feel like I understand what he's going through. He's had quite a few baby relationships, from what he's told me, but they all get cut short for a number of reasons. The relationship was rushed, or the other guy cheats, or it's all just flirtations and physical chemistry, or whatever else. Seems like he wants something real for once. "You'll get there, buddy. You're a catch," I tell him, and he looks at me with a skeptical look. "Seriously. You've got the hunky exterior and the soft interior. An Egyptian Jake Gyllenhaal or some shit."
Zane immediately laughs, shaking his head but clearly liking the compliment. "Well, at least someone thinks so."
I smile at him. "Just don't give up, okay? If this is what you want."
"I don't know what I want," he says, scratching his head. "I just don't want to end up like your father."
I falter slightly, surprised. Baba? "What do you mean?"
He looks at me and utters one word: "Lonely."
I frown a bit. The more I think about it, the sadder it seems. There are a plethora of women out there for me that I can openly be involved with. The same cannot be said for Baba and Zane. Their options are limited as it is, and with what options they have, they often have to keep things "discreet." I don't want Zane to be so down about his relationships, especially if he feels that he can't be public about them. That only makes his situation worse. I want to cheer him up somehow -- and I know exactly who can help. "Hey, is Rashida working today?"
Zane looks at me. "Yeah, why?"
"Let's go visit her," I suggest, pulling my seatbelt on, grabbing my keys, and starting the car. "I miss that woman."
Rashida has her own nursery on the outskirts of our hometown. She's big on plants, and the nursery is basically her second baby. Zane often teases that she loves her plants more than her son. He doesn't mean it, of course, because Rashida's adoration for her child is more than obvious. She has a magic about her that makes Zane calm and happy. It's something about her presence and her voice. She always talks in whole words, and emphasizes syllables with a song-like intonation.
When we stroll into her shop, she's just finishing up with a customer, handing an adorable old lady a potted Japanese andromeda before she sees us. Instantly, her soft-natured, fair-featured face brightens up. She smiles with her perfect teeth before she holds up her finger to us, signaling us to wait as she politely escorts the customer out of the shop.
I look around briefly, brushing my hands over lilies and lavender and plenty of other plants that I don't know the name of. They're all beautifully maintained, though. Rashida takes pride in her work, and it shows. She often assists Baba with the garden outside our house as well. Baba always says knowing the face behind the business has its perks.
Soon, she returns, brushing her long dark hair behind her shoulders before smiling at us. "Boys," she says sweetly before opening her arms. First, she hugs Zane, then me, her smile never wavering. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"We missed you, is all," I say.
"You would not miss me if you visited more often," she says, cocking one eyebrow in a stern fashion before laughing lightly.
"We lead busy lives now, Mama," I say smoothly, and she rolls her eyes.
"No excuses." She pokes my chest before smiling. "Come, come. Sit with me. I have to finish a few orders."
We join her behind the check-out desk, where she has a few small stacks of papers laid out next to the register. "Keeping busy, Mama?" Zane asks as he and I each take a seat on the small bench against the back wall.
"Very," she says, hunching over. "You know how it is this time of year." Even I know. It's May, which means lots of college graduations. A lot of people in the area seem to collectively decide to spruce up their homes with plants around May as well. I guess it's that whole "April showers bring May flowers" saying.
"Anything we can do to help?" I ask.
She turns back towards us and smiles. "No, my love. Just give me a few minutes to get things in order."
While she sorts through her orders, counts money, and makes a to-do list, Zane and I sit quietly together on the bench. At one point, I naturally find myself resting against his shoulder. I hear him let out a small laugh, but he puts his arm around me a bit so that he can play with my hair. I smile to myself. It's not uncommon for us to end up like this, but now, somehow, it feels even more intimate.
"Your father has been asking about you," she says suddenly while she's in the middle of organizing bills.
Zane perks up. "Has he?"
"Yes," she says, glancing at Zane for a second. "He seems to think you are angry with him."
"I'm not angry with him," Zane says.
"I have been telling him that," she says, shrugging slightly, "but it would be better to hear it from you, would it not?"
Zane makes a small sound in his throat and I draw in my bottom lips slightly. "I actually do want to talk to him," Zane says.
"Well, good," Rashida says, stuffing the cash back into the little register. The bell dings when it's shut and secured.
Zane clears his throat. "About something specific."
Now Rashida looks interested, because in the middle of putting a few orders in a separate stack, she turns to look at her son. "Oh?"
"I..." Zane pauses for a moment, and I move my head off of his shoulder to allow him to focus. "I, um..." He glances at me, and I give him a little nod. He has nothing to worry about. I'm sure of that. Rashida is the last person I'd expect to berate her son for being gay. But that's not what Zane says. "I got a promotion," he says quickly.
I stare at Zane in surprise. Before I can really process what he said, Rashida gasps and smiles and says "That is wonderful, love!" She comes over to give Zane a congratulatory hug, and over her shoulder, I make eye contact with Zane. He just winces before looking away. A promotion? Did he just make that up? He hasn't mentioned anything about a promotion, and I was fully convinced he was about to come out to his mother. I'm surprised. He was relatively fine when talking to Baba. His mother should have been a piece of cake.
We only stay a little longer. For the most part, the three of us chat about Zane's alleged promotion before she asks how I've been doing at work. After that, we help her lug in large bags of soil before taking our leave. She gives Zane a few flowers on our way out as a way to express that she's proud of him. "For your apartment!" she says happily before hugging each of us tightly. She invites us both to dinner at the end of the week, and Zane promises to be there, but since I'm taking an evening shift that night, I have to decline. She gives me a disappointed look, but I laugh and assure her I'll attend the next dinner, though.
On our way back to the car, I look at Zane skeptically. I know he notices me looking, because he's very obviously avoiding my gaze as he holds the flowers in his grip. "Some promotion," I say.
He sighs. "Don't."
"So proud of you," I say with a slight grin.
"Drop it, Khalid," he says, waving me off.
"I just wanna know why you lied to her. That was a lie, right?"
"I panicked," he says, stopping in his tracks and rubbing his face with his free hand. "I wanted to tell her, but I panicked."
"You panicked?" I ask, confused. "You were all gung-ho about the idea of telling your father like thirty minutes ago and now you won't even tell Rashida?"
"I don't know what to tell you, bro," he says, his arms hanging at his sides. "I've never been this confused before."
I sigh, taking a step back. I really shouldn't nag him this much. He's probably more "out" than he's ever been, which means he's probably feeling exposed or vulnerable. I have to take it slow. "I'm not blaming you or anything," I tell him. "I'm just looking out for you, y'know?" I emphasize that fact by hitting one of his pecs with the back of my hand.
He smiles a little. "I know," he says. "You always are."
"Damn straight," I say, and then I shake my head. "Or, gay, I suppose."
He rolls his eyes before laughing. "You're lucky I tolerate you," he says, pushing the flowers into my chest and walking towards the car.
"That's called love," I say with a smile, holding the flowers. I give them a quick sniff, thinking that they'll brighten up our apartment nicely.
Over the next week, my curiosities with Zane are very touch-and-go. For the most part, they take a backseat. I can go a whole day without thinking about him in a sexual manner, but then all of a sudden, something will spark. For example, last night, while watching him talk and guide a fork to his lips simultaneously, I got a flashing vision of my dick heading towards his mouth. It usually starts there and then somehow, the images spiral out of control and inevitably the roles end up being reversed. I can't pretend that I am not a tiny bit curious to know about "the other side" -- specifically with Zane. I'm not sure if it's to answer the question "What is it like?" or if my attraction to my best friend is just flaring up a bit, but regardless, I don't plan on ever admitting that to him. Telling him I had a sex dream about him once is one thing. Telling him that I've actively thought about it lately is another thing entirely, and our relationship is far too good as is to fuck it up. I just need to get laid. That's all. I'm just horny and pent-up from lack of sex, and I need to get my dick wet and forget about this whole Zane thing. Soon, too. In fact, why not tomorrow? Tomorrow, I'll go out to the sleaziest bar I can find and land the sleaziest girl I can court. I'll get my nut and then I'll be fine.
That's what gets me through my shift. Instead of eating dinner with Zane and Rashida and Seth (and probably Baba, though I didn't ask), I'm cycling between a variety of our older patients and keeping my mind occupied with fantasies of girls I'll probably meet. I hope it's another brunette. In fact, I hope it's that same brunette I met already, just without her ginger friend. She had the perfect legs, and this sexy, bitchy sort of look that always stirs me. And she was definitely into me. Even Zane could tell.
I try to focus on her for most of my shift, but the workplace is distracting. Sometimes it's sad working in hospice, because many of my patients have had their fair share of heartbreak and regrets. Interestingly enough, it's more common for the men to admit to me that they've never found love in their lives. Never found "the one." And sentiments like that make me wonder if I'll end up here too. Is this going to be me, living out the last of my days without someone to look back on? Even though I don't believe in putting too much stock into relationships as the ultimate form of happiness, there's something to be said about the joy mutual love can bring. What if I waste so much time fucking around that I miss out on something beautiful?
I guess that's how Zane feels. I don't think he wants "the one", per se, but he wants SOMEone. He wouldn't have shut down so suddenly at my mention of a boyfriend if he didn't. He's been in a bit of a funk for a while now, and even though he seems mostly okay, I hope he can realize that he'll get what he deserves -- someone who loves him and appreciates him and sticks with him.
I don't want to think about this too intently, though. It's too morose. So, when I finally finish with my shift an hour before midnight, I clock out and head back to the apartment with the brunette on my brain. What's she doing right now, I wonder? Has she gone back to that bar hoping I'd pop in again, or has she completely forgotten about me? I go with the former, picturing her alone and wearing an even shorter dress than last time. I'd join her at the bar and she'd light up, her eyes saying "Finally!" There probably wouldn't be much chit-chat either. We both know what we want.
I'm getting myself hard imagining how kinky she'd be, but when I get back to the apartment, my fantasies take a backseat. The crowded parking lot is what catches my attention first. Someone parked in my spot, and I have to snag a space all the way at the end. Already frustrated, I hop out of my car and make my way closer to the building, already wanting to report whoever took my parking space. I get distracted, though. Slowly, noise becomes more apparent: loud music and loud voices. It's all pretty muffled, but I know it'll be incredibly irritating when I get to bed. I hope whoever's throwing this party doesn't drag it on too long. I've had a long shift, and all I want to do right now is watch some porn, jack off, and then sleep for ten hours.
But surprise! The party is in MY apartment. The door is wide open, and a few small groups of people are out in the hallway chatting and sipping out of solo cups. They all look at me curiously when I walk by, but I don't recognize any of them. What the fuck is going on? Zane said nothing about a party. If he had, I would have shut that down immediately. He knows how I feel about having too many people in our living space. In fact, even he doesn't like a lot of people in our apartment, so what the hell is going on?
It's even worse when I step inside. The air is heavy and wet, almost. No one's doing anything crazy, but there are far too many people inside, sitting on counters and shelves and already leaving messes scattered around the apartment. Zane. Where the fuck is Zane? Suddenly I hear loud cheering coming from the sitting area, and when I look over, I see Zane laughing as he scoops money from the center of the coffee table into his arms. Looks like a bunch of people are playing poker.
I can barely hear myself think over the music, but I'm angry enough to confront him right now. I probably look stupid in my scrubs, but I don't care right now. He's in trouble. "Zane," I say, and he doesn't seem to hear me until I push my way in between a couple of people to get to him. I put a hand on his shoulder and spin him around. "Zane!"
He looks at me and, surprisingly, his smile doesn't disappear. "Khalid!" he says, putting a strong arm around me and pulling me hard into his body. I grunt a bit as he hugs me from the side and then kisses my forehead. "I thought you'd never show up."
I push out of his grip, still irritated. "The fuck is going on?"
"We're having a party," he says. "Surprise!"
He looks... off somehow. There's something odd in the way he smiles. Maybe it's his eyes. His eyes are usually half-lidded at best, and now they're fully open. "You should have fucking told me," I tell him.
"Oops," he says, and I blink. Oops? When the hell has he ever said 'oops'? "Well, I'm telling you now. C'mon, grab a drink and join me. I'm kicking ass."
"I want everyone out."
As soon as I say that, people in the vicinity start to boo me, which only infuriates me more. It doesn't help that Zane chuckles at them. "C'mon, lighten up," he says.
Suddenly something clicks. "Are you high right now?" I whisper.
He smirks a little, hesitating before saying "No."
"Yes you are."
He bites his lip before sighing and shrugging. "So I did a little coke, what's the big--"
"Coke?!" I'm so confused. It's like he's randomly gone off the deep end. Zane doesn't like parties unless they're small, intimate, and quiet, and he has never done a single drug in his life. The most we ever did was sneak a few sips of wine during a sleepover, and we hated it. How many times since then has he told me he thinks "that shit is stupid"? Now he's doing coke in our apartment?
"What?" he says stupidly, as if it's no big deal.
I grab his arm and tug him away from the table. He tries to fight me off but I'm borderline livid at this point, and I manage to pull him into the kitchen. I have to shoo out a couple stragglers until we're alone, and when I turn to confront him, I'm practically pinning him against the fridge. "Are you fucking insane?"
He looks almost scared -- probably because I rarely get mad. "Khalid--"
"What the FUCK is going on, dude?"
"It's just a little party--"
"Like it's just a little coke?" I mock, slapping his chest. He winces as if it hurt. "The hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing," he says.
"Bullshit," I claim. "This isn't you."
He pauses for a long time, looking around the kitchen with just his eyes before saying "I told my father."
"You-- What?" Told Seth what? That he's gay? At dinner?
"Yeah," he says simply, as if reading my mind.
I squint slightly as I try to think. "So... You're celebrating or something?" I say bitterly.
"No," he says. "It went horribly and he doesn't want anything to do with me."
He says it with a smile, but that's only because he's fucked up right now. I soften up almost immediately. So that's what this is about. He's derailing because his secret's out and Seth didn't respond well. This isn't the time to say "I told you so," but I have to say something to steer him in the right direction. "Zane..." I sigh. What could I say that would get through to him? All I can think of is apologizing. "I'm sorry, man."
"Yeah, well..." And he leaves it at that.
I sigh again. I want to help somehow, but the music is starting to give me a headache. "Look... You need to get these people out of here."
"No!" he pleads. "I need the distraction."
"You need to sober up," I say. "And I need some peace and fucking quiet."
"But--"
"I've had a long shift, Zane. I don't wanna argue with you."
"But can't you stay at your father's or something?"
I almost laugh. "And leave you alone right now? No." I run my fingers through my hair just as the song shifts, and everyone cheers. I close my eyes. This isn't happening. Not tonight. I head right into the living room, and when I find the power source for the speakers, I pull it directly out of the outlet. The music dies instantly and almost everyone says "Aww!" when their favorite Top 40 is cut incredibly short.
When I turn around, Zane is behind me, looking sullen. "I don't feel so good," he says.
He does look a little normal again, especially with his eyes. "What did you take?"
He shrugs. "Coke. A tablet of something. Some shots."
I almost fail to resist rolling my eyes. "Why don't you lie down?" I ask him gently, and without missing a beat, Zane goes right to the floor, lying down on his back. "Not on the-- Okay," I say, breathing in and out slowly. Floor it is. Guess it's my job to kick everyone out now, so I make my rounds. "Party's over!" I shout. "Everyone out." A lot of people give me grief, not wanting to leave, and I have to practically usher people out of the living room. There's a couple in the bathroom hooking up that give me pissy looks as they leave, but I don't care. Once I make sure no one's in the bedroom or creeping in the closets, I lock up and exhale deeply.
Sweet silence. But when I look around, I wince. There are cups and napkins and half-opened chip bags everywhere. Crumbs litter the floor, someone left their socks, and nearly all the couch cushions are on the floor. But my eyes hone in on Zane. He's just lying on his back as if asleep, his hands resting on his stomach. I hope he's not terribly fucked up. Not to be selfish, but babysitting isn't how I wanted to spend my night. Still, I have to be here for him. Even though I don't know the full story, obviously it's not good.
That reminds me: I CAN get the full story. I pull my phone from my pocket and ironically enough, I see two missed calls from Baba. Just the person I wanted to talk to. I quickly call him back, hoping he's still awake.
He picks up after the second ring. "Ali, my sweet boy."
"Hi, Baba," I say, smiling slightly.
"Have you gone home yet?" he asks me. "Have you seen Zane?"
"Um. Yeah," I say, wondering how much I should tell him. "He's not looking great."
I hear Baba sigh on the other line. "Did he tell you anything?"
"Just that he told Seth and that it 'went horribly'," I say. "Don't know anything more than that."
"Yes, it... did not go well."
Baba essentially gives me the play-by-play. He's detail-oriented, and even goes into the specifics of what Rashida had cooked and which dishes she had used. I have to tell him to get to the point to keep him focused. It seems that Seth made another homophobic comment. The four of us always tell Seth he shouldn't say things like that, and he usually shrugs it off. This time, though, when Baba said something, Seth fired back with "This is my house, Gamal. I can say what I please." Dinner went on without trouble for several minutes... until Zane spoke up. He came out, right then and there. He blurted it out, really. One second, Seth was going on about the political climate of the Middle East, and the next, there is silence after Zane interrupted him with that bombshell. "What did you say?" Seth asked, and Zane repeated himself: "I'm gay." Seth questioned Zane repeatedly as if to make sure he heard his son correctly before there was another long, drawn-out silence. Then, Seth told Zane to get out. Zane refused. Seth said it again more firmly this time, and again, Zane refused, continuing to finish his meal. That's when the fight broke out. Seth snapped and threw his plate at Zane, screaming for him to get out of his house before going around the table. Rashida tried to stop him, but he shrugged her off aggressively, and Baba was too far away to even get to Zane in time. Seth had Zane's shirt in a furious fist and went in for a punch with his free hand. What was surprising to Baba was that Zane fought back. Rashida was screaming as they brawled, though apparently it didn't last too long. I don't know why Seth thought he could take Zane. Seth's oversized figure pales compared to Zane's physique. Maybe he assumed his son would "respect" him and not dare to hit him back, but clearly he was in for a rude awakening. After Baba broke up the fight, Zane immediately took his leave.
"Is Seth okay?" I ask. Zane doesn't look like he even got into a fight.
"Broken nose," Baba says, "and a bruised ego." He sighs heavily. "I told Zane not to tell him."
"I did too. But he's been wanting to tell him for a while now, for whatever reason."
"I understand," he says.
"But I don't," I add. "He's kept it a secret for so long. Why is it such a problem now?"
I can almost hear the patient smile in Baba's voice as he speaks. "It's not easy to keep a secret like this, Khalid. I wouldn't expect you to understand. Just know that Zane wants to live truthfully, and we have to support that."
I sigh. There it is again, him thinking I can't understand what's going on. But maybe he's right. Maybe you need experience to really get it. "Do you think you'll ever tell him, Baba? About you?"
There's a long pause on the other line before he says "I don't know, son. I don't know."
Baba and I only talk for a few minutes more. He doesn't know what's going to happen after tonight, but his advice is to let Seth cool off for a while, especially since it'll give us time to come up with a game plan.
"Take care of him, okay?" Baba requests. "And make sure he knows that he is still loved."
I smile, taking that to mean Rashida is still supportive. "I will, Baba." We tell each other that we love each other before hanging up, and I let out a long exhale. Damn, that's a lot. As I look at Zane, I wonder what's going to happen now. The truth is out. How Seth responds to this information will change our family dynamics completely. Even if she supports her son, will Rashida stand by her husband? Will Baba? I wonder.
I head over to Zane. Honestly, to someone peering in through the window, it'd look like he's dead, but I see his chest rising as he breathes, so I feel a small sense of relief. I choose to lie next to him, resting on the hardwood floor beside him as I think about tonight. I can picture the scene unfolding pretty clearly, but I wonder what would have happened if I had been there. Like Zane wanted me to be.
Zane stirs after a while, and when I hear groaning, I look towards him. He yawns a bit before opening his eyes, looking confused, and then glancing at me. "Um... Why am I on the floor?" he asks.
I smile. "You short-circuited," I tell him.
"Why are you on the floor?"
"I didn't want you to feel lonely."
He smiles a little before looking back up at the ceiling and then frowning. He lifts his hands up and places them against his face. "I'm so fucked up, Khalid."
"I know."
He puts his hands at his sides, sighing. "I was so stupid. And mad." He groans slightly. "I don't know what to do now."
Since it's so close, I nudge my hand over just an inch or two and pat his hand with my fingers. "We'll figure it out. I promise."
I'm about to pull my hand away when he surprises me by taking hold of it. It's not in a romantic way, but in the way a child clutches onto someone he trusts in a moment of weakness. So I let him. "You've always been there," he says. "Through the good and the bad."
"Yeah," I say, unsure what he's getting at or what he wants to hear from me. Maybe he assumed "we" meant him and myself when really I was referring to Baba and Rashida as well.
There's a pause before he keeps talking, still holding firmly onto my hand. "I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have invited all those people."
"It's okay."
"And I shouldn't have taken those drugs."
I give his hand a squeeze. "As long as you're okay."
He looks at me. "Do you hate me?"
"What?" I laugh. Seems like the alcohol has settled in, because now he sounds more drunk than anything else. "No, Zane, I don't hate you."
"Promise?"
I smile. "I promise, you big lug." Then I force myself to sit up before patting his chest. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed, okay? Can you stand up?"
"I don't know," he says warily.
"Try."
It takes a minute for me to help him to his feet. He says he feels a little dizzy, so I support him as we walk and I tell him I'll get him some water after I get him to bed. We take it slow. I don't know what's in his system (and by the sound of it, neither does he), so I suggest what usually works best: water and rest.
When we get to his room, we head straight for the bed. He basically falls onto it with a grunt but sighs as if settling comfortably. Next step, clothes. I tug on the hem of his shirt and tell him to sit up, and he resists for a moment before I tell him how hot and sweaty he'll get if we don't get these off. He agrees, helping me help him by finally sitting up and letting me pull his t-shirt off. He falls back with a sigh again before I move to his jeans. "Work with me, big guy," I tell him, undoing the button and the fly before trying to tug them off his hips. He lifts his ass up a bit and helps me push them down, and I finish tugging them completely off his legs. Now he's just in his tight underwear. I find my eyes fixated on his bulge for a second too long. Focus, Khalid. Focus. You were doing so well. Focus.
After tossing his pants to the floor, I consider tucking him in somewhat, but it's a warm night, and it might be best if he just cools off. "Be right back," I tell him.
Before I can turn, though, his hand snatches out and grabs my wrist. "No. Stay with me."
I laugh. "I'm just getting you some water--"
"Stay," he says. Then he pats his bed. "Get in here."
I look at him with confusion. "So you don't want water?"
"Just come here, Scrub."
I sigh for a moment before doing as he asks. I kick off my shoes and then climb over him to get on his opposite side, resting close enough for our arms to be touching. I'm expecting Zane to say something, so I keep quiet, just resting with him. Maybe he just wants the company.
Turns out I'm somewhat on the nose. "I don't wanna be alone, Khalid."
I know what he really means, though. "Is that what this was all about?" I ask, referring to the last-minute party. He just shrugs in response. Then, all of a sudden, he bursts into tears. My eyes go wide before the instinct to comfort him kicks in. "Hey hey hey." I shift onto my side to cuddle up against him, and immediately he leans into me. He wraps an arm around me and grips the back of my shirt in a tight fist. I hold him tight, just rubbing his back as an attempt to soothe him. This is a shock to me. I've never seen Zane cry, not like this. He'll tear up now and again, particularly at sad scenes in movies, but he's never sobbed like this before. Not even as a kid. I was always the pussy.
It takes him several minutes to calm down. Soon his cries quiet down and are reduced to sniffles, and then finally, he stops shaking. He just breathes slowly for a few moments before I hear him mutter one word: "Fuck."
I smile a bit, pulling back slightly. "You okay?" I ask, trying to get a look at him.
"No," he says, but he at least laughs. "I'm so embarrassed." He finally looks up at me. His eyes are a bit bloodshot, and his face is damp from his tears.
"Well yeah, you're a hot mess," I tease, and he smiles as I wipe some of his tears off with my thumb.
"Better?" he asks when I finish.
"A little." I smile at him before I realize how close we are. Our legs are nearly intertwined, our crotches are practically up against each other's, his arm is still draped over my side, and our faces are mere inches apart. Thank God I wear briefs. Otherwise, I'd probably be afraid of popping wood right about now. I gulp, hating myself. This isn't the time to be thinking about him sexually. Zane is going through probably the toughest time in his life emotionally and here I am getting nervous by how close we are.
And yet, something's drawing me in. Maybe it's the way he's looking at me. Staring at me. Does he know what I'm thinking? Can he hear my thoughts? Why is my heart pounding? That's all I can hear right now: the persistent thudding in my ears.
I do it. The impulse is so overpowering that I'm not quick enough to stop myself. My eyes flicker to his lips and then, all of a sudden, I'm leaning forward, bridging the gap, and pressing my lips against my best friend's. He doesn't move. Doesn't make a sound. I don't even know how long I kiss him for, but when I think "What the fuck am I doing?", I pull away. My face feels hot as Zane stares at me in surprise. "I... Um... Sorry..." I laugh nervously. What the fuck, Khalid? Why did you do that? Why can't you keep--?
But, unexpectedly, Zane leans forward, much more quickly than I did. I feel his hot breath on my mouth for a split second before I feel his lips again. And then, I kiss back. We clutch onto each other hard, him gripping the back of my scrubs and me digging my nails into his back. I'm not thinking about this rationally right now. I'm completely thinking with my body, and my hands, and my lips.
Is it me, or is Zane a really fucking good kisser? Maybe we just have a good balance. Right off the bat, we move smoothly against each other, constantly swapping dominance. He's the one who introduces a little tongue, and as soon as I feel that slick muscle against mine, my hips push forward. Now I'm getting hard, and by extent, I'm getting embarrassed. The tiny bit of rational thinking I have left tells me to pull my crotch away, so I start to -- until Zane stops me. His hand slides right down to my ass and brings my groin right back up against his.
He's getting hard. I can feel it, that insistent stiffness between his legs, trapped in his underwear. God, that's so strange. Even just being in his arms is strange. I'm not used to kissing someone who's so built, who has muscles, who has a raging boner between their legs just like I do. I want to touch him, but I'm slightly nervous. I let my hand slide over his bare side and rest on his hip. My thumb teases close to his crotch, but I stop there, like I'm on the edge of a diving board anticipating the temperature of the pool. And it's the temperature that really draws me in. I can feel the heat coming from his crotch, and I want to feel him.
As soon as I slide my palm over his bulge, Zane grunts and breaks the kiss. Thinking I did something wrong, I pull away, but he quickly grabs my wrist and brings my hand right back. I bite my lip, feeling him up gently. And he lets me, his soft moans encouraging me to continue. As I grope him, Zane lifts the hem of my shirt slightly so that he can undo the drawstring of my pants. Pinching the end of the lace, he tugs and makes it come undone in one fluid motion before his large, warm hand reaches right inside.
"Oh fuck," I moan when his hand makes contact, and he laughs slightly as he generously rubs the bulge in my briefs. For a brief moment, I feel detached, like his hand is just any old hand and I'm finally getting some sexual contact. Then I remember who's touching me and who I'm touching back, and the excitement is only heightened.
Zane speaks up after half a minute of us just feeling each other out. "Is this okay?"
I look at him and nod. "Y-yeah."
He nods too before looking back down and then biting his lip. "Lemme just--" And then I feel his fingers hook into the waistband before sliding right in. I gasp. Now it's skin-on-skin, Zane's palm against my cock. He wraps his fingers around it and my eyes roll back -- just in time for him to kiss me again. I kiss him back hungrily, eagerly, grinding into his fist as if fucking it slowly. I almost can't breathe properly. Fuck, this is hot.
Zane's lips start to get more insistent, and I quickly realize that he's trying to get me on my back. His body is shifting into mine, and I let myself roll over with him on top of me. He gets between my legs, and now I can feel his crotch much better. He grinds into me, and we both moan against each other's lips, my hands exploring his back.
Soon, Zane lifts his hips a bit and reaches into my pants to tug my cock out as best he can. He has to reach in a little more intently to tug my briefs under my balls, but when he does, he grips my cock firmly and strokes it slowly. My toes curl instantly, and I arch my back a little as I close my eyes. I'm aware that he's studying my face as he slowly jerks me off, but I have to focus. Don't cum yet, Khalid. Don't you dare fucking cum.
Then, Zane moves down. My heart starts thudding more and more rapidly as the anticipation builds. Once Zane takes me into his mouth, I inhale sharply and hold my breath. Holy God. I clutch tightly on the sheets as he bobs up and down, and I completely tense my body. Either a month without sex makes me extremely sensitive, or Zane was right: he gives great head. Maybe it's the fact that it's Zane that's also turning me on, or shocking me, or a mix of both. Regardless, I hold my breath until I can't any longer, and then I start moaning, willing my body to relax as I watch my friend blow me. Zane's smooth with his movements, loosely holding the base of my cock with just one finger as he strokes himself with his free hand. How is he doing this so well? It seems like he can take me into his throat without much of a struggle. Just a little push and I feel the velvety softness of his throat over and over and over again. He doesn't gag or anything. I've only met one other girl like that, she was too tentative with my cock. Zane, though... He's sure.
He pulls off my cock when he needs a breather and pants softly, shifting onto his side and jerking himself off a little faster. I watch his hand slide up and down his cock for a moment before he nuzzles his face into my balls slightly, lapping at them a few times and then dragging his tongue up the shaft. He lifts it up with his hand, and then continues to suck. He focuses on the top half in this position, and I watch as the head of my cock repeatedly nudges the inside of his cheek, my cock throbbing in absolute bliss. I can't believe we're doing this. I can't believe this is happening right now.
I reach down and run my fingers through Zane's hair, and immediately he closes his eyes and hums against my dick. I do it a few times, combing through before gripping and tugging gently, mostly to signal him to come back up. I want to kiss him again. He catches on quickly and lets my dick fall from his lips before crawling back over me. Then, he presses those red, wet lips right against mine.
As we kiss, I reach between us -- not to grab myself, but to finally cop a real feel. His cock is half-sticking out of his boxer briefs, so I barely have to reach in to get a full feel of his member. He moans against my lips but keeps kissing me, letting me touch him. It feels so strange. Alive. Warm and beating. Strong, like the rest of him. It's kind of incredible to feel him so intimately. It's like I'm getting a fresh perspective. All new insight.
Zane tries to reach between us to grab me at the same time but he loses his balance slightly. So, we both roll over, switching positions so that I'm on top. Zane first focuses on my shirt, finding it to be in the way. He peels it off of me before we go back to kissing. I feel his hands slide down my back and give me goosebumps until he gets to my ass. Then, he hooks his thumbs in my pants with one smooth motion and starts pushing them down mid-thigh. He does the same for himself, shimmying his underwear down enough for his cock to be fully free. Now, our dicks are pressed nicely against each other's, solid and throbbing. I grind into him as he holds onto me, sometimes pulling me deeper with one good grip of my ass. All the while, we keep kissing as if addicted to each other's lips. Maybe we're both just starving. Who knows.
After a while, I give my lips a break in order to catch my breath, but I keep my face close to Zane's. We just breathe on each other as we take hold of each other's cocks, stroking as if racing. It's so weird jerking Zane off. Despite the fact that I'm doing something I never imagined I'd end up doing, him being uncircumcised makes it feel like my hand is gliding up and down his cock with much smoother motions than I'm used to. It feels more fluid, and his soft moans practically goad me. To make it better for me, Zane licks his palm and then focuses on the head of my cock, almost making me twitch and buck my hips into him. It feels so good. Incredibly intimate.
And then we make eye contact. Our eyes find each other and then hold the gaze. I don't know how long we hold it for either. Could be three seconds. Could be a full minute. Either way, it feels like this connection stretches on for a long time, but I'm not sure what I see in his eyes besides horniness. What can he see in mine? I don't even know what's going through my head right now. All I know is the need to cum.
Zane beats me to it. Our eye contact only breaks because Zane's face suddenly scrunches up, and as I feel his cock pulsing in my grip, he moans out. Both his eyebrows rise in the middle as he finally starts to cum, and I look down to watch. Thick ropes of creamy white cum shoot out from the head of his cock, spilling onto his abs and pooling in the crevices and his belly button. Through his orgasm, he keeps an extra-firm grip on my dick until finally, he relaxes, letting out a long sigh that's half a moan and half an exhale.
I slowly pull my fingers from around his cock, stretching them out so they don't get locked in place. I inspect them slightly, seeing his cum dripping from my fingers. Fuck. I just made Zane cum with this hand. That's his load on my fingers. I find myself panting slightly, almost tingling all over with excitement.
But when I look down, I furrow my brow and frown. "Zane?" But he doesn't respond. After all that, even with his hand still wrapped around my hard cock, the fucker fell asleep.