Part VII
I left Neal tied up like that.
Aaron wasn't happy.
"What the hell, Viren? You did this for me? What, you think I can't get a guy unless you tie him down for me?"
I ground my teeth.
Aaron continued. "I don't need your help, Viren! I don't need your stupid plots. I don't need whatever fucked up shit was going on in there."
He sat down and put his head in his arms. "I just want someone who loves me. I wish I was like you. I wish everyone loved me. I wish I was hot and confident and talented. You get everything! I'm such a disappointment aren't I?" He started to cry. "That's why you think I need your help, isn't it? Because I'm just a wispy shadow of you."
I put my hand on his shoulder.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" he screamed. "Please," he whispered. "Please don't do that."
"Aaron," I said softly. "I wish I was more like you. You are so smart and so wise. I am always doing the stupidest shit. Where would I be if I didn't have you to tell me when I'm being a dumbass? I wish I could just sit and think for hours like you do, but I can't. I always need to be doing things. I feel like things happen, without me really fully understanding them, and I just sort of coast. Maybe that's why my plans are so shitty. Why can't I be like you? All you ever say is the truth, and you say it with eloquence and intelligence and bravery. I'm the disappointing one."
"I love you," Aaron whispered, looking down.
"I love you too, bro," I said, rubbing his hair.
Light danced in his watery eyes as he smiled and I wondered how he could ever think he wasn't beautiful.
"I'm letting Neal go," Aaron said.
It wasn't until the weekend that I saw Neal again.
Philo was still pissed at me and he didn't invite me to the beach house. He did invite Maria. And Joe. Hell, he even invited Aaron. The only thing he said to me all week was that he didn't want to see me anymore and that it was time to move on.
So I was left alone, prickling with guilt and desire, wondering how I should seek forgiveness, and for what.
Gina and Neal both berated me with texts. Apparently I wasn't the only one craving forgiveness. Both of them said they were sorry and wanted to come over and apologize in person. Both of them were manipulative. Both of them were annoying.
I ignored them both until the doorbell rang.
"Hey Neal," I said softly.
"Can I come in?" he said. His usual swagger was gone; his hair was messy, and his posture drooped.
"Okay," I said.
I sat down on the couch and he sat down next to me.
"Philo hates me," I whispered.
Neal looked down. "I doubt it Viren. He probably just can't deal with how much he wants you and how little you want him back. It's not as easy as you think." He sighed. "I'm sorry about what happened on Tuesday Viren. I said those awful things because I thought if you got angry, you might take it out on me. You get aroused when you are angry, and I thought that if you were pissed off maybe you would..." He swallowed. "Why does no one want me?"
Neal started to cry, and I got a little misty myself. It was just too much. "Neal," I said. "I'm sure there are plenty of people that want you. You are cocky and buff and you have a wicked sense of humor and adventure. I'm just confused and I don't think fucking you will help me."
"Maybe it would," Neal said, laughing. "Then, maybe you could be sure about what you want."
I looked into his eyes. "Can I ask you something? What happened between you and Joe?"
"Joe and I screwed around for a while. We would wrestle, and invariably his dick would end up in my face, and then I would suck him off. We did this for a few months, but eventually, I told him it was over."
"Why?" I asked.
"I was starting to fall in love with him," Neal said.
"That's the saddest thing I ever heard," I said quietly. "And you know he doesn't love you back?"
"Yes, of course I know! He isn't even gay. And there is nothing as horrible as falling for a straight guy. Just look what it did to Philo. After what happened with Joe, I promised never to let feelings like that creep up on me ever again. And they never have. Now, all I want is pleasure, raw and empty, without those fucking horrible emotions. And I know that's what you want too. Please, Viren. Use my empty holes."
"I can't," I said softly.
"God, Viren, did your balls fall off?"
"That isn't going to work, Neal," I said.
"But seriously man? What happened to you?"
I shook my head. "Maybe I just don't deserve Philo. He's just too good for me."
"Maybe," Neal said. "But you know who's not too good for you? Me."
I rubbed Neal's hair, and he blushed.
"I'm glad you are here," I said softly. Then I turned on a movie.
Sometime during it I must have dozed off, because I felt that pounding mist, the ring of heavy light around my head, the sore, dull beat of exhaustion. They were drawn from me by the wicked pulse of pleasure creeping and sparking across my skin. I was relaxed and flowing, like molten silver and gold swirling, mixing, alloyed. I felt the warm intersection of sex and sleep.
It felt good. Really good. My body was softening; my legs curled; my cock warm, wet, and cared for.
FUCK!
Oh fuck no!
I slapped Neal across the face, but he didn't let up, kissing my cock, moaning, and looking me in the eye.
"Get off," I said, slapping him again. He just moaned and continued, bobbing up and down on my big cock. His mouth was slick, slippery, and soft as it flowed over my cock, soothing, slurping, sucking me in.
I gasped and pulled on his hair; his tongue wrapped around my shaft as he swallowed. He was messy and desperate. Drool and slobber ran down my cock and onto my balls, leaving them shimmering and wet as Neal tried to swallow more of my cock, whimpering.
I groaned. "Damn it, Neal."
He smirked as expressively as he could with his face stretched around me, before continuing to plunge up and down, flooding my cock, his soft mouth compressing, his lips tightening, as he swirled his tongue around, sucking down whatever I leaked. His hands rolled up my muscled chest, massaging my pecs, pinching my nipples, playing with my biceps, my chin, my neck.
He held me down softly, pulling the tenseness out of my muscles as he lapped and swallowed my bone. I snarled, squeezing the back of his neck, unsure which direction to move him.
He sucked hard, moaning and writhing, tightening the warm pressure on my cock, sending little flashes of pleasure along my rod. The wet pressure was a refreshing antidote to my throbbing, uncontrollable, swollen cock.
I finally managed to wrench him off by tugging on a clump of his hair. His lips glistened with precum as he licked them, closing his eyes, opening his mouth, leaning in, and whimpering as I deprived him of my cock. He lunged at it in vain a few times, moaning. I snorted. My cock was bulging, pulsing every few moments, full, red, and sharp, still pointed at his face.
"You like having me be your faggot," Neal said softly. "You've called me one so many times. You know you want to cum in your faggot."
I slapped him and he moaned.
"Please," Neal whispered. His mouth opened and his tongue drooped. He smirked. "Make me into your cocksucker, your bitch, your fuckhole. Use me. Please, call me a faggot."
I smacked his face. "You are a faggot," I sneered. He moaned loudly, his body shaking, his noises breaking and curling higher, his eyes rolled back, his breathing cracked. "Ooh hell, Viren. Oh hell!"
A stain started to grow in his pants. He was cumming.
My breathing grew heavy; I panted and looked Neal in the eye, fighting the urge to shove my cock deep into the nearby hole. My big cock started to shoot, one stream after another. Neal caught what he could into his mouth and the rest painted his faggot face. It looked like he had cried silver tears of joy as the beads of cum rolled down. He swallowed the cum in his mouth and then licked around his mouth as far as his tongue could reach. He smeared the cum all over his face with his hand, before bringing his hand to his nose, to his tongue, his lips.
I pushed Neal to the floor and then towered over him.
"Beat me up, stud," Neal whispered. "Remind your faggot of his place."
I grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, so that he was choking as I lifted him to his feet. I dragged him to the door, which I opened with my other hand.
"Get the fuck out," I whispered. I threw him outside, slammed the door, and turned the lock.
Then I slumped onto the couch and covered my face with my hands.
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