Don't read this if you aren't of legal age to view this where you live. It contains sexually explicit material. All names, places, and events are entirely fictional, and any similarities to real-life events are entirely coincidental.
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Wow. After all that I need a shower. So does everyone involved. Hopefully this chapter I can stop writing sex scenes long enough to move the story along. Your emails have been appreciated, nice to get to know some of my audience and I hope to hear more. As I'm writing this I have to say, ignore all the gay primping scenes, they just came out and I didn't want to delete them. Also I need to stop using gay as an adjective.
It hurt. I tried to figure out what it was without opening my eyes and settled on everything. I felt a mess and wiped the sleep out of my eyes to look around. Doilies, Tiffany lamps and flowery print described the decor. I hadn't even noticed. Must be where John puts his mother on visits. If you asked me last night I would have said we were on a small cot in a dungeon.
Even if I hadn't been taken to the rack, I felt like it. My neck hurt, my chest hurt, my lips were sore. Worst of all my ass. Thank god he'd pulled out during the night, I didn't want to be wearing a diaper and give him a UTI.
Oh, him. Alex. That's whose arms and legs were wrapped around me and put me in this state. His breathing was even and peaceful. Fucker probably wouldn't even have a crick in his back. His slightly wavy hair stuck to my neck
I was struck with a pressing urge to take a bath and eat breakfast. Fortunately, after a bit of gentle maneuvering, I got free of his tangled limbs and sat up on the side of the bed, my feet dangling over. I hated beds this high up, made me feel even shorter.
"Ugh," I said to myself and put my face in my hands," You might as well just make it to the bathroom."
I didn't bother putting anything on as I staggered to the bathroom. Things were still slick and torn up back there, I felt like my hips had been taken apart and moved up a few inches what with all the extra parts that seemed to slide together.
I decided to spare myself looking in the mirror, forewent the bath and took a shower. The difference between searing and icy was measured in micrometers on the knob, so I settled for hot, although it burned my raw and chapped skin.
I just stood there, under the copious steaming flow. It seemed after a while the torrent started to wash clean what soap couldn't. I started to feel like myself again, not a conversationalist or a sex toy, safe behind familiar semi-pleasant walls of me-ness, cozier than any well apportioned guest room.
Eventually, soap was applied, although I didn't bother with my hair, I hoped the color wouldn't fade too quickly. With purple, you didn't know until a wash or two whether it was going to pink, violet or blue.
Taking pains so that I wasn't taking pain, I gingerly scrubbed everywhere, even my stinging backside. I stepped out dripping and grabbed what was probably intended as a decorative towel.
The mirror was mercifully fogged up, and I had the chance to dry off and compose myself a bit before I wiped the mirror to survey the damage. I was pink from the shower, but my neck was definitely violet, really bad hickies pulsed on either side. My nipples and lips were puffy. I turned around and felt behind of me. Everything seemed to be in place, although you wouldn't know it by the way it chafed.
"Damn," I muttered to myself. If I didn't get any concealer I'd have to walk around with scarves for the next few days. Small town Texas society may be even less accepting of a scarf lifestyle.
I finished up and put on pajama bottoms and an old My Bloody Valentine t-shirt I'd stolen from my mom. Sneaking back into the guest room I put on my hoodie so that I could hide my.
Walking out of the restroom I went to scrounge up something to eat. In the kitchen I got some cereal and milk and sat down cross legged in the back of the breakfast nook.
"Making yourself at home," I heard John comment.
I looked over and he was walking in, dressed in an undershirt and boxers.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologized," I was hungry and no one was up."
"No problem," He laughed and went over his coffee maker," I doubt you'll eat me out of house and home. How do you like your coffee?"
"Not at all," I complained with a mouthful of raisin bran," It smells disgusting"
No one at my house drank coffee; a pot brewing had always been a sign that it wasn't just my mom and I alone in the trailer. Its taste meant something worse
"Children," He chuckled," It's not so easy to wake up once you don't have to catch the bus anymore."
"Haven't ridden that since 6th grade," I protested.
"On to riding other things at that point, were you," He gave me a sly look and sat down on the outer edge of the breakfast nook.
I blushed and stared into my coffee. Why couldn't I just have sex and not feel so much shame about it? It was worth in the final calculation, but once the hormones dispersed, it was worse than the butthurt.
"I'm only teasing you," He said kindly," I do worry about kids starting so early. Though had I the opportunity, I certainly would have taken it as a young person."
"Yea, I'm sure Reconstruction wasn't the best time to grow up," I said as much childlike enthusiasm as I could muster.
"Ouch, you have teeth," He said good naturedly after I admonished him," Hopefully I'll be able to Redeem myself."
That got a smile out of me. It wasn't often I talked with someone on my level. I had occasionally wished that some teachers would have more time just to chat. Or that I had a computer, sometimes I felt starved.
"Though it looks like Alex isn't exactly toothless, himself," He commented on what he could see through my bunched up hoodie.
I felt lectured at and covered my neck up with an arm. "I can handle myself," I objected.
"You may think you know a lot, and maybe you do, too much even," He said, hunching over his coffee and lowering his voice," But I've known Alex a long time, both he and his Dad are like family, and there's good in both of them. But I've done some awful things in my life, and seen Marco do the same, but I never enjoyed it the way he did. And other than being a little lighter skinned, Alejandro is his father's boy. I find myself wishing his mother never left, but I don't blame her for a second."
"He told me she was dead," I whispered.
"She might be," He shrugged," but she left first. I think he might understand why she went, but he'll never forgive her for not taking him with her, or contacting him in some way. Although he'll never admit that first part. Marco and Alex are like this," He held two fingers up together," Guess it's how he made it."
It was a lot to absorb. I descended into bitter platitude." It's tough all over," I said. It sounded inappropriate to the situation even as it left my lips.
He gave me a strange look I hoped wasn't pity," I can believe that. Doesn't have to be though."
That's something I could never believe. Some people just had the resources, mentally, financially and emotionally to be happy, complete, people. Those without would scrape and tear ourselves into some kind of niche, hoping not to get crushed. Things weren't always as grim as all that, but I did feel awfully squeezed.
"I think I'll wait til your guy is up to make breakfast," He said, lightening the tone of conversation," You like eggs, toast and bacon?"
"I'm pretty full from the cereal," I said, pushing my bowl out and making moves to go and wash it," And I don't know if he's my guy."
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it,"obviously not meaning both things as he said picking up the bowl and walking back to the kitchen," I needed another cup anyway. Can I get you anything, juice, water of any kind?"
"Ice water would be fine," I called to him as I settled back in.
He came back, and we talked some more, less heavy stuff. I scoffed at his smooth jazz collection. He mentioned he was a retired Dupont salesman, going around to all the plants that dotted the gulf coast. I told him I was a junior. When he asked how school was going he laughed at the gagging noises I made in reply.
The day was almost beginning and John had just said that he might not wait up before cooking, when Alex made an appearance.
He ambled stiffly over, his wavy hair in a mess, rubbing his eyes. He was walking in from the guest room, he'd put on a t-shirt and some sweatpants that didn't do much to hide his junk flopping around in them.
"You didn't wake me up," he grumbled as he sat down and scooted next to me.
"I thought you wouldn't want me too," I said apologetically. I didn't mean it. I needed the alone time.
"Mmmm," Alex growled, leaning over and putting his head on my shoulder. Obviously he wasn't a morning person.
"Good morning to you too Alex," John said," Want something hot for breakfast?"
"I told you when I was 15," Alex replied," you aren't my type."
"All lies," John laughed as he got up and went to prepare the meal," You were an awfully confused teenager, I could have had you, though."
Alex snorted and leaned back and against me, I had to brace myself to keep from being pushed over.
I felt like a bit of an outsider, a historian observing a pair of primary sources long after the fact. I couldn't claim much objectivity though.
With John occupied, I became the object of attention. Alex nuzzled at me and brought his arms around. He reached over at my neck and pulled my hood down. He paused at what he saw.
"Fuck," he exclaimed quietly, lightly tracing the purple bruises, causing tingles of pain to shoot down my spine," Do these hurt?"
He hadn't asked out of medical curiosity or concern, he was fascinated. Even had he remained silent, the growing at his crotch spoke volumes. It was just him, but to be put on display for such an audience made my skin crawl and scratched a exhibitionist itch I didn't know I had.
"A bit," I admitted in his ear, egging him on," My ass hurts worse."
He grinned and kissed me, and seemed almost proud of his work as he said," I bet."
Things seemed almost placid, domestic, as we ate. I wouldn't say he was clingy, but calmly possessive was how Alex treated me. An arm around me, a maple syrupy kiss, a hand down my thigh. Didn't mind me leaning against him while he ate. It was nice.
PDA in front of other people, especially adults, took some getting used to. Remember, this was the very year Lawrence V. Texas had been handed down. A few years later plenty of people were out, but while I may have had a bit of a reputation, it wasn't something I easily talked about.
John didn't seem bothered. He liked having young people in his house, it was nostalgic in a way for him, he said. I wasn't used to benevolence from authority figures. Weird that I thought of everyone in those terms. Neglect or hurt, succor for any of my needs was wrapped up somewhere between those two. It was so messy inside my head.
"I'm going to take a shower," Alex blurted out, looking a bit antsy," I'll have to get going and drop you off soon."
"Alright," I said, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I had hoped for a bit more time.
"Don't start," He warned, but then more kindly," I'd ask you to join me, but it smells like you already washed up."
"If it's too much trouble, I can take him home," John interjected.
"No," Alex growled, then looked a bit abashed as he changed his tone again," Thanks, sorry, but I'll do it John."
I was glad, while I liked talking to John, Alex was my focus. Plus I had a pretty good idea what Alex wanted from me. Even if he was grouchy in the morning.
I really felt like packing up and waiting while Alex was gone so I excused myself and went to the guest room again. After just a night, there wasn't much to do. I considered getting dressed, but getting undressed was more attractive. I stripped down to my briefs and climbed on the bed.
The sheets were a little gross, but I couldn't help but smell them. Maybe my own scent was on there, but that's the kind of thing you don't notice. There was Alex, and I relieved several square inches of fabric of its odor drawing it into me.
I heard the bathroom door open, but he didn't come in. I bunched up the coverings and sat against the headboard to wait.
"Thought I told you we were leaving," I heard Alex say as burst into the room, smelling like Marlboros.
"Why are you so pissy," I complained," I was cold."
I could see him winding up, then drawing down. He dropped his towel on the floor and got in beside me.
"Cold," he muttered, pulling off enough of my covers to make room for himself. He was damp and cool from the outside air," Then put some clothes on."
I didn't bother to argue and just leaned against him on the headboard.
He sighed, but relaxed and kissed my cheek.
"I don't make it here that often," He said," No reason to."
"Not even now?" I asked, preparing myself to be rejected.
"Well, maybe now," He admitted and put his arm around me. Preperation for one eventuality made me vulnerable to the other. I had to think of grim things like my chances at getting into a good college to keep from swooning.
The things I felt around him made me fight a battle within myself. As any superhero knows, a huge dam bursting required an equally large landslide, but when it's all happening in my valley, I have to wonder if it's not better to be drowned. I was Elvis, shooting at the TV to turn it off, then staring into the empty chasm of broken glass and busted wires.
Someone once said I should learn to be easy with myself.
I thought," Why bother, no one else is."
It was easy to rest against his shoulder though.
Things were getting a bit mushy. In situations like this there is such a thing as saying too much, going too fast. To stave it off I slipped under the covers and crawled between his legs.
"Damn you're a little cockhound," He commented, faceless but stiffening between my lips and reaching at my head through the sheets.
I hum around him in assent. He manages to taste like sex even after a shower. There's muskiness that whatever body wash he used doesn't wash off. I have a thought that if I get enough of him in me, I'd start to taste like that too, that his obviously more vigorous pheromones will override my own and I'll be a colony for his scent.
Deep in thought and slurping his now hard column down my throat, I would have smiled if I could. His hands were gripping at me and I could hear his low gasps. I've always been a good multitasker.
Not good enough to notice his coming, though. He let me know by forcing my head down and my throat open as he strained and then released. I tried to keep it all in but gravity wasn't on my side; some of his thick stuff got through the seal of my lips at his base and slid down my chin, neck and chest.
With Alex there was always that moment where I didn't know if it'd ever let up, that I might be found suffocated, blue and around his cock, my murder weapon. The sheets bunched around my head added an extra layer of claustrophobia, but I could see the now midday cold light faintly through the sheets.
I think it was just to see the mess he'd made when he threw off the covers and let off the pressure. His cock came out of me, pulling an umbilical cord of drool and semen out of my mouth. I followed it as it fell, and sucked the rest of it off. It wasn't a cord I wanted cut just yet.
I got my fill of whatever it was I got out of sucking cock and parted my hair so I could look at him again. I wasn't seeking approval. I had pretty good evidence of that sliding it's way down my stomach. I just wanted to look, in a real way, before we spent the last few minutes of our time together in anticlimactic goodbyes.