SHANE AND TREY
Disclaimer: Story characters belong to the author, any resemblances to real people are entirely coincidental.
Content Advisory: Adult situations, language, sexual references
Copyright, 2010, Anyta Sunday
I hope you enjoy it. Please comment to: anytasunday@gmail.com
This story will continue to be posted on Nifty. It is COMPLETED, however, and can be found also at http://www.gayauthors.org/author/anytasunday
Enjoy!
Chapter Four
I came back from the shower dressed with my hair slightly wet. Trey lay sprawled over his bed, much the same way I'd left him. Only now he had a remote in hand. I glanced at his screen, but couldn't tell what the movie was he'd paused.
"Dude, you took forever in there."
"Twenty minutes is hardly that long," I said, rubbing the towel over my head once more.
"Well it felt like ages." Trey's voice grew a slight edge of authority. "Now get over here and watch this movie with me."
Oh, wait? We were still on for that movie? Dammit. Like I really needed anymore up close encounters with this guy. "Uhhh—"
Trey grabbed a pillow and chucked it at my head. "And hurry up."
I complied. Mainly because I was too weak to do otherwise. Not to say no to Trey. But to say no to myself. I began dragging my desk chair to his side of the room.
"What the—seriously, man." He patted the spot next to him on the bed. "It's big enough for the both of us. Just get over here."
I'd freaking just jizzed in my pants being on that bed with him. What screwed-up-ness was it that I willingly went back? My feet moved swiftly one after the other without any damn consideration of my feelings. Well okay, true, they were listening to some of my feelings, but only the ones waist down. This was a bad, bad idea. At least there're plenty of pillows to cover up with—ha-ha. I grabbed a large one and sat down, but Trey—possibly thinking it was in my way?—took it from me and stuffed the rest of the pillows behind our backs.
I kept my eyes ahead, strong enough at least not to look at him. "What movie did you choose?"
Trey pressed play on the remote. "Die Hard, man. It's a classic."
I sniggered and turned it into a cough. Trey punched me lightly in the side. Well, it might have been lightly for him, for me it was borderline. "This is awesomeness and must be respected."
I laughed again and shielded my side. But instead of another hit, Trey leaned toward me, his face straight, serious, angry. I shivered, countering his movement by arching my back. Then out of nowhere, he cracked a grin. "We need crisps!"
He reached over me, his upper torso hovering over my lap, and opened one of his side drawers. I sat perfectly still, hyper aware of the heat radiating from his body. His t-shirt had ridden up a bit revealing his toned yumminess, and his jeans clung to his ass like they'd been sown onto him, the white waist band of his briefs ever-so-slightly making an appearance.
Trey threw a packet of crisps over his head onto the bed. As he pulled himself back, he paused at my upper arm. So like, his nose was about an inch from my armpit. Then he breathed in. Ah hel-lo? What the hell? Oh, and about ten thousand other questions.
"You smell all perfumey, man," he said, moving away. "Didn't pick you for the type."
What on earth was he talking about? I lowered my head and sniffed. Ohhhhh. Warmth flooded my cheeks. I silently cursed my hasty leave before—not the leave itself, but the fact I'd forgotten to take my shower bag. "Uh, I didn't have soap with me, so I pumped some from the dispensers. I don't, uh, usually smell like this."
"Dude," Trey said, with an odd little smile, "you are so weird sometimes. You could have just come back for some."
Uh, no. No I couldn't have.
Trey flicked on the movie and it was onward with macho madness.
Half-way through things blowing up, side characters being killed off without a thought, heaps of grunting interspersed with the occasional witty line, and Trey trying to prove his manliness—I mean, I wasn't stupid. Why else would he have chosen this movie after our Princess Bride moment?—Trey finally opened the crisps. I'd been hoping he'd do it earlier, because Die Hard just wasn't my thing and I was so bored. But at least now I could munch my way through the rest.
Trey chewed loudly, and often stuffed a stack into his mouth at once, spraying crumbs everywhere. I was so glad we were on his bed and not mine. Sleeping in crumbs was just—ugh.
I dug my hand in to the packet at the same time as Trey. Instead of pulling out, I continued fishing for a crisp, making sure to keep bumping his hand. Each touch of his skin sending a jolt through me.
Trey grabbed for some crisps as well and it almost became a fight to get out of the packet again. And all this was happening while both of us have our eyes rooted to the screen. For me it was pretense, but for Trey, well, he was so hooked on the movie, he probably hadn't even noticed our hands.
Near the end of the movie (finally, yay), Trey took another handful of crisps. Actually, it might have been the rest. But he balanced them poorly and one fell onto the bed between my legs. (I was sitting cross-legged). In a movement so fast it may as well have blurred, Trey stuffed the crisps in his mouth and shoved his hand down the tiny triangle of space in my lap.
I sucked in a hard breath, holding it as Trey moved about trying to find his crisp. I should have found it for him, or moved or something, but I'd frozen. There was only one muscle was able to move now, and I was doing my best to avoid that happening. Trey was still glued to the screen, like he had no real idea what he was doing. Just a voice in his head whispering for him to find the crisp. That delicious crunchy crisp. Fucking crisp!
Finally he found it and came out, managing to brush his hand over my inner-thigh as he did. Bastard. I scowled, as he brought the crisp to his mouth and began nibbling it. Nibbling it. Like fuuuuuuck, what was this guy doing to me?
I would've stayed mad at him—haha, probably not actually—but he cracked a joke about the movie that really was funny, and suddenly we were both in hysterics. His deep rumbling urged my own to continue and, no kidding, we laughed our way through the last fifteen minutes of the movie.
As the credits rolled up, Trey rested a hand on my shoulder. I jumped a bit, and he squeezed, meeting my gaze directly. For the longest moment we stared at each other as if neither of us could think of anything to say, but were somehow okay with that. Well, it was weird. Nice. But, yeah, weird. "You look all happy," Trey finally said, breaking the spell. "Guess it's about time to get ready for that date of yours."
Syd. Shoot! I sprung off his bed and checked the time. I had ten minutes before I was meant to meet him. I shrugged out of my t-shirt, quickly folded it, and slipped on a causal black shirt. Patting myself, I calculated what else I needed. I turned around, and Trey held my wallet out to me.
I shoved it in my pocket and found my keys, slipping those in behind my cell. "Right. I gotta run."
Trey opened the door wide, but as I passed him, he stopped me, one hand curled around my wrist. His warm breath tickled my neck, and, in the lightest of whispers, he said, "Don't sleep with him."
Don't sleep with him? I wanted to grip Trey's shoulders and shake him for making my mind swirl in dangerous territory. If it wasn't bad enough the guy turned me on, now I was analyzing. Which was truly and utterly ridiculous and I hated my mind for making up the stupid, unhelpful fantasies where those words meant well, that he was jealous.
Of course I knew they didn't. Trey meant he didn't want me bringing Syd back to our dorm room was all. Didn't want to be confronted with two guys heavily making out as I opened the door. He just wanted some warning so he could get out of the way. And he didn't want me to go there tonight—not the first night in a new room.
Okay, I sooo had to stop thinking about this right now. This was my date with Syd, my first date with any guy in fact, and I was determined to enjoy it.
"I hope you like chocolate," Syd said, shutting the car door.
I fixed a frown on my face and stared at him. "Who doesn't like chocolate?"
He chuckled. "Two of my three sisters, actually."
Meeting me on my side of the car, he grabbed my hand, and pulled me up to him. His green eyes, bright, even though we stood in a poorly lit parking lot, stared into my own.
I broke the contact, although I wasn't sure why, perhaps it'd felt too intense on an empty stomach? "Are you the only boy in the family?" I asked stepping around him.
"Yup." He threaded his fingers through his hair. "Well, not including Dad, but—" Syd stopped and I watched his Adam's apple jut out as he swallowed. He shook his head ever-so-slightly, perhaps it was a shudder, and then marched toward the restaurant.
His reaction made me curious, but I didn't know him well enough yet to ask.
Inside the smell of chocolate assailed me, taking me back to my seven year old self when Mom took June and I for a chocolate and candy factory tour after she'd told us her and Dad had split. I didn't really understand what that meant back then, I just remember feeling really excited about seeing a chocolate waterfall.
Syd's voice brought me back to the present. "Whenever I come here I think of raspberries." He sniffed the air. "Melted chocolate really does smell like them."
I inhaled deeply. "I might detect a hint of that." (But only a small one)
Because it was busy, there wasn't much choice where to sit. Finally we secured a little table next to a large window. With it being dark outside and light inside, the window created a mirror effect, and it distracted me somewhat having my reflection sitting next to me. I tried (and failed) not to look at it.
Syd flicked open a menu. "Mmmm. Death by Chocolate."
I checked out the list of desserts and Death by Chocolate did sound the best.
"Let's get the option for two, then, shall we?" Syd waited for my reaction.
One plate, two forks? Yeah, I could handle that. Okay, that would be fine. Probably. I mean, it was just—I glanced around the restaurant—"Won't people notice we're, you know," I leaned forward and whispered, "on a date?" After saying it, and seeing Syd's face drop, I felt like an idiot. I mean, who cared right? Okay, well yeah, I cared a bit, but I didn't want to.
At that moment the waiter came over. Ignoring the tight ball of nerves in my stomach and trying to get over my fear, I said, "We'd like Death by Chocolate for two." And because I was nervous (my fingers couldn't stop twitching, and I was sweating something torrential), I blurted, "we're on a date."
What the...? What the hell did I go and add that for? I gave Syd a panicked look, to find him chuckling. Chuckling! And here I was worried we might come fist to face with some phobes after saying that.
The waiter smiled. "Any drinks with that?"
"I'll have a sparkling water," Syd said, and looked at me questioningly. I managed a nod, as in yeah, the same for me thanks. Syd grinned. "Make that two."
When the waiter had left, Syd locked my leg under the table between his. "I hope you didn't say that because of me," he said, meeting my gaze. "I don't want you feeling pressured to out yourself to people if you're not ready."
And then the realization of what I'd done hit me. "Oh my God," I groaned. "That waiter and anyone within hearing distance knows I'm gay before my own Mom." Jeez did I have some serious priority issues.
Syd squeezed my leg. "That's not bad. I think it's harder telling the people you've known your whole life. There's more at stake." Then he did that strange little shudder thing he'd done back in the parking lot.
"Was it hard for you?" I asked quietly, tensing a bit because I wasn't sure I was crossing some line.
Syd's legs loosened around my own. He took the menu and began straightening out the creases.
Shit. I knew it. I should never have ask—
"My sisters were all right with it," he said. "My Mom took it reasonably, but she keeps thinking it's a phase I'm going to grow out of. And Dad..." His fingertips whitened on the menu. "He didn't take it so good."
I wanted to offer his some morsel of sympathy. Felt like saying I understood. But I didn't. Because it was one thing to imagine the worst my Dad could react and another thing entirely to have that happen for real.
The waiter came back with our waters, and that ended that topic.
"So, how do you get on with your roomie?" Syd asked.
At that I wanted to butt my head against the table. What would I give not to think of Trey right now for the rest of this date? I shrugged. "We get on fine."
Although I'd only said it to avoid further questioning on him, it was true. I mean, taking away my weird feelings when I was around him, we did seem to get on.
"Well you're lucky. I'm not sure if it was a practical joke, but mine wore a cloak and pinned a Hogwarts sign over his bed."
That was weird. And damn, there I was thinking of Trey again. His library books. That mysterious graze on my ass. All the way to don't sleep with him.
Thankfully, our desserts came and with it harmless conversation about chocolate, music, and then weirdly Sudoku. I had no idea how it got to that.
After we'd paid and left, Syd drove us up to a point overlooking the city. The trip made me uncomfortable because I knew what was expected once we got there. I really enjoyed Syd's company. I liked his openness, he was a genuinely nice guy. And cute, pretty damn cute, but... Yeah, there was one of those, and it wasn't small enough to ignore.
It lacked. There was no spark. I didn't have the urge to grab him, hold him. Maybe—probably, it had something to do with the fact I couldn't get Trey out of my mind. Ahhhh, man I sucked. I needed to get out of the Trey ditch, and fast.
Syd twisted on his seat, and ran an appreciating gaze over my body. "You know you're super hot, Shane," he said, leaning toward me.
I met him halfway and brushed my lips against his, gently, hoping maybe this would trigger that something. He ran his tongue along my inner lip and I wanted to feel anticipation and excitement—wanted to be turned on. But so far my dick hadn't stirred in the slightest.
Syd climbed over the middle and stradled me, kissing me deeper. My tongue moved with his and I imagined us naked, hot and sweaty, but it still wasn't doing anything. Stupid fucking Trey, it was all his fault. At the thought of him, my kisses grew stronger, forceful almost aggressive. I sucked on Syd's tongue and as I did, pictured Trey. I circled my arms around him, and that's when I lost my fervor. He just didn't feel right, didn't smell right, didn't taste right.
I leaned back from him and sighed. Syd took a moment to collect himself and then lightly placed his hands on my chest. "This isn't right for you, is it?" he asked with a sad smile.
I shook my head, guilty I'd let it get so far. "Ah." I rubbed the palm of my hand against my forehead. "I'm sorry. I—"
"No. Don't apologize." Syd climbed off me and into the driver's seat. "I guess I sort of had a feeling that was the case. I mean you never squeezed my leg back in the restaurant, and you let go of my hand real quick at the start." He smiled and squished up his nose cutely. "You're just so hot, I had to try. Just in case."
I leaned over and pulled him into an embrace. I did like him. A lot even. Just...just not that way—dammit. "I know this sounds like the typical line, but I really would like to see you again. As friends. There's something I-I naturally like about you, Syd." Just not sexually.
Syd patted my back. "You'd better mean that, because I would like us to be friends."
The ride back seemed to drag on thanks to the slight awkwardness that tainted our conversation. When we arrived back at the dorms, we arranged to meet up again after the weekend, and said an easy goodbye. Well easy considering.
I walked to my room, strangely awake although it was long past midnight. The lights were out and the curtains shut, but I could make out the lump in Trey's bed and hear his deep regular breathing. After I got myself ready for sleep, I sat on my bed just watching Trey for a bit, hating him, wanting him. The events of the day replayed in my mind and at the part where Trey plunged his hand between my thighs in search for his crisp, I got hard.
I grabbed a towel and my wash-bag, and headed to the showers. A few drunken people roamed the corridors, but the showers were empty. I slipped out of my boxers and into the shower and shut the door. I wished the water would pound on me, but this patter was the highest pressure I was going to get. I squirted a whole mass of shampoo on my hands and stroked my boner. I loved touching myself, it felt so good, but more than that it was a way to relieve—express myself.
The shampoo glided over my cock, and I imagined it was Trey's hand—no better yet, his mouth. Yeah, his rosy lips working me up and down. I rubbed fast beneath the head and then stopped for a few seconds, wanting this to last longer. I started up again moving my hips in a coital motion, this time with Trey's fucking hot ass in mind. And—ahhhh. (What an explosion!) I loved it. Needed it.
But recently this high had been followed by a guilty low. Closing my eyes into the water, I felt it come on in waves of shame. This thing with Trey--these weird feelings had to stop. I'd thought it was just a transition from Ryan, but well tonight I had the chance to move on and couldn't.
I got out of the shower, dried up and looked at myself in the mirror. The guy that stared back at me was such a liar. He looked strong, confident, in control, but I knew the truth—on the inside he was confused, in pain, and felt like dirt. Worse than dirt, rot. If he loved June, he would do something to change these feelings.
My breath hitched and I leaned my forehead against mirror, against the guy who safe to say was a bit lost. I needed someone to talk to, but who? Obviously not June, the one I usually went to for advice.
As I slipped into my night boxers I thought about some of my mates from home. I couldn't imagine telling any of them though, especially not after the way Ryan had acted when he'd found out. And we'd been that much closer.
I sighed. I knew who I could talk to. The one woman other than June so wonderful in my life: Mom. Only I still had to tell her I was gay.
I made my way back to my room, and quietly slunk into bed. Then I shut my eyes and forced myself to block out Trey's light snores.
It was time to get a grip and move on.