Rogue Affair

by Rhys Everly

  “That’s what I call all my friends,” he said.

  “What friends?” I asked, and he gave me an evil—but still hot—glare.

  “You’re gonna pay for that,” he said.

  He didn’t follow it up with another tormenting gesture, so that confused me.

  “And for the record, I’m not a good man,” I said.

  Well done, Nathan. What a comeback.

  Hudson laughed and got some stares from other library users, but neither he nor I cared about that.

  “You’re just fooling yourself. You wouldn’t dare see me fail. I’m your friend, remember?”

  Okay. He was getting cocky now.

  And I wasn’t beyond teaching him a lesson.

  “Watch me,” I said, and in one swift movement picked up all my shit, pushed my chair back, and walked away from him.

  I could feel his gaze on my back as I approached the main door. When had the library gotten so big?

  It felt like I’d been walking for hours, and the door was still nowhere closer.

  I finally got in its proximity. So close to freedom and escape from this… man when someone came up behind me, grabbed by the arm, and turned me around.

  “Are you seriously going to abandon me here?” Hudson asked when he had me pinned against his body.

  His erection prodded at my stomach, making mine even more excruciating.

  “You’re not behaving, so… yeah,” I stuttered, trying to sound confident, but damn me if I was.

  “Don’t walk away,” he said, pressing me tighter.

  I couldn’t breathe, and not because he was holding me so close.

  “It’s not like I can now,” I mumbled.

  He smirked, and I immediately wanted to wipe it off his face with a slap… of my dick?

  God, what was he doing to me?

  Before I met him, I never thought of sex other than when taking care of my morning wood.

  And now?

  It was all I could think about.

  It was like I was having a second sexual awakening. A Hudson-ing, if you may. Because he was the cause of all of it. No one else. Even porn wasn’t cutting it anymore, and believe me, I’d tried just so I could get him out of my head.

  Hudson dipped his head, and I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead, his lips lingered inches away from mine as he said, “You know you want me.”

  “N… no, I don’t.”

  Great job at convincing him.

  His lips grazed mine for a nanosecond, and I shivered in his embrace.

  “I… I hate you so much,” I whispered.

  “No, you don’t,” he said and pulled my upper lip with his teeth.

  “You’re an ass,” I moaned. “And so annoying.”

  “I’m sorry,” he trembled.

  “You’re not,” I said, still too hard to think straight.

  “Let me prove it to you,” he said.

  I chuckled.

  “And how do you plan on doing that?”

  His grey eyes burned me with their intention as if he was trying to read me and make me read him at the same time.

  “Follow me,” he said and walked to the side, his hand still on my arm.

  I stumbled with him toward the bathrooms, glancing at the library and realizing people were staring.

  Oh, for crying out loud. Now I was the center of attention.

  He walked me to the men’s restroom, and I looked up at him with confusion.

  “Whatever you think you’re doing… don’t,” I said, managing to find my voice again.

  Only seconds later, he threw me into a stall, followed me inside, locked the door, and dropped to his knees.

  Whatever resolution I had gathered jumped right out the window.

  “Can I? Please?” he begged me from the floor, and fuck me if I could say no to that face.

  “Oh, fuck it,” I said, and he smiled enthusiastically, fumbling with my buttons to get my cock free.

  He wrapped his mouth around me without warning or build-up, making me gasp.

  “You’re such a bastard,” I whispered, but he didn’t seem to hear me. He was too busy tasting my cock.

  He took hold of me and ran his tongue over my slit, the trail of precum glimmering under the light in the stall.

  He palmed my dick slowly as his tongue wiped me clean of any precum before moving down my shaft and taking my balls in his mouth.

  “Fuck, Hudson,” I gritted under my teeth. “Stop… that.”

  He bit some of the skin under my balls gently and I gasped, my hands reaching out on either side of the stall for extra support, which I needed if I wasn’t going to collapse on the dirty floor.

  “You’re such an asshole,” I said under my breath.

  “Yes, I am,” he mumbled while his mouth was busy.

  Finally, he let my balls go and focused his attention back on my dick. He ran my tip over the roof of his mouth, his tongue massaging the underside while his fingers fiddled with my balls, making it an equally painful and pleasurable experience.

  He looked up at me as he pushed more of me into his mouth until his upper lip was almost touching my pubic area and kept himself there until his cheeks went red, his eyes got wet, and he coughed, releasing me from his grip.

  Then did it again.

  And again.

  And fucking again.

  For someone who’d never been with a man before, he was surprisingly good at sucking. And teasing.

  He must have watched a lot of porn to be able to do that on his second ever blowjob.

  I couldn’t stop looking at him adoring my cock. I wanted to because I didn’t want his image imprinted on my mind’s jerk-off imagery, but I couldn’t help myself.

  He was a fucking dream there, perched in the stall, a six-foot-six beast of a man sucking me, of all people, off.

  A gasp pulsed through me, and it turned into another and another as my seed shot out of me and into his mouth.

  His eyes didn’t move away from mine, palming me softly, gently, letting drips of my cum ooze out of the sides of his mouth, running down his stubble.

  But he didn’t let it drop to the floor. He used his fingers to put it back in his mouth and swallow it all down. Then proceeded to lick me clean.

  “I don’t want you walking around all dirty,” he’d said before zipping me up and standing back on his feet. “So have you forgiven me?”

  I sighed.

  It was an exasperated sigh as much as a wanting sigh.

  “What am I gonna do with you?” I asked, slapping his cheek a few times.

  “Let me do that again for starters?” he said.

  I shook my head.

  “Hudson, for fuck’s sake,” I said.

  “What? You don’t want to? Did you not enjoy this?”

  The worry in his eyes almost made me melt, and I got this craving to reassure him.

  Okay, yes, I didn’t want to get involved with Hudson in that way, but I wasn’t going to say no to the teases and the blowjobs—oh my, the blowjobs! If they were all going to be like that, then I didn’t know what I’d do.

  “I did,” I said, the smile creeping back, the glimmer in his eyes brighter than before. “But that’s all it’s ever going to be, okay?”

  “What is that?” he asked.

  I didn’t want to define it. I couldn’t. But there was no other way other than defining it if none of our feelings were going to get hurt.

  Especially considering he was in love with me.

  Good God!

  Was I a horrible being for letting him do these things, being his friend, blowing me in the library bathroom, and tutoring him for his GED knowing pretty well how he felt for me?

  “Friends,” I said, his face sinking. “With occasional benefits.”

  He beamed again, brought his hands up to either side of my face, and planted a warm kiss on my lips. No tongue until the very end when he brushed it past my upper lip.

  Fucking tease.

  “For a man who w
as in the closet up until six seconds ago, you’ve very open,” I said as he unlocked the stall, and we came out to a couple guys pissing in the urinals.

  Fucking hell. Had they been here all this time? How much had they heard?

  “It’s New Harlow. No one knows me here,” he smiled. “Besides, I can’t keep my hands off you. Now that you know.”

  Great. That’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Him getting his hopes up.

  “Okay, I’ve got to go,” I said as soon as we were back out on the main library floor. “Maya is waiting for me. Bye”

  I couldn’t have run out of there faster than if I wanted to.

  I needed to put as much space between him and me as possible. Before he tried something else and my shields completely broke down. Not that said shields were doing a good job of keeping me away from him.

  If I had any brains left in me, I’d stop tutoring him. But he was right. I was too good, and I wouldn’t let him fail on my watch.

  Yup. Too good for my own good.

  When I came out into the open, my phone buzzed with a new message I opened with barely a thought.

  Sweet_Peaches: So… how are you Mr. Romantic? Any news?

  What a weird message. Were we going to ignore the fact I’d asked him to meet me a hundred times and he kept refusing?

  MrRomantic: Pretty annoyed.

  Sweet_Peaches: Oh?

  MrRomantic: Yeah. You know the bully I had sex with?

  Sweet_Peaches: I remember.

  MrRomantic: Well, he just decided to blow me in a public restroom.

  Sweet_Peaches: Is that supposed to be bad?

  MrRomantic: Well, no, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings.

  Sweet_Peaches: Why would you hurt his feelings?

  MrRomantic: Because he’s in love with me.

  Sweet_Peaches: And you’re not in love with him?

  Did I lie? Or did I say the truth? That I wanted him more than Hudson. That as good as Hudson was, I was sure he was better. At everything.

  And probably more right for me than Hudson.

  He ticked all the boxes as far as I could tell, for starters.

  MrRomantic: It doesn’t matter.

  Sweet_Peaches: I’d think it does, if you feel the same way.

  Sweet_Peaches: Or not.

  MrRomantic: It doesn’t matter because we could never be anything.

  Sweet_Peaches: Why not?

  MrRomantic: Because…

  MrRomantic: There are too many variables.

  Sweet_Peaches: Variables?

  How did I explain without sounding like a lunatic?

  Not that it mattered if I did. Everyone thought I was equal parts genius and crazy as it was.

  But I didn’t want Sweet_Peaches to think I was. Crazy. I didn’t mind him thinking I was a genius.

  MrRomantic: Variables = people getting hurt.

  That should cover it. Short, succinct, and to the point without giving too much away.

  Sweet_Peaches: But isn’t the thrill of getting hurt half the fun?

  Twenty-Five

  Hudson

  Nick looked down at him and put his finger under Holden’s chin.

  Now it’s my turn, Nick said and pushed Holden back against the door, burying his face in Holden’s crotch, sniffing his manhood.

  Nick played with him, not sure… what to write...

  I put the pen down and looked over what I’d just written.

  What the hell made me think I could write? And write erotica nonetheless?

  I wasn’t any good at this. My writing was shit, and I never knew what to do with my beginnings.

  I tore the page out and crumpled it in my hands.

  I should just stick to reading Mona Wood’s books. Although they were only half as satisfying with their straight pairings and sex scenes.

  I had to get Nathan to introduce me to the girl under the pseudonym so I could ask her to write gay stuff. Because I couldn’t write to save my life.

  I sighed and put the piece of crumpled paper in my backpack, then got off the table and headed toward the craft book section.

  Maybe I couldn’t write, but I could still read some how-to books and practice. It was fun, regardless of my skill. Or lack thereof.

  When I walked to the counter to check out the books, I saw the familiar face of Henry. I hadn’t caught sight of him since the reunion, and I had promised myself I’d apologize to him.

  “Hey,” he said when I approached. His stern look was softer today.

  “Hi. Henry,” I said, passing him the books.

  “Writing books, huh?” he said, turning them in his hands to scan them. “I didn’t know you liked writing.”

  “Me neither until recently,” I grimaced. “I’m not any good.”

  Henry smiled.

  “You just started writing and you’re no good? What did you think it was going to be? An overnight transformation? Writing is a skill just like anything else. Like baseball. It just takes different muscles to train.”

  Why was he being nice to me? Why was he reassuring me when he should be looking down on me like everyone else?

  “I didn’t have any expectations, actually. It’s just… Nathan said I have a talent, and I thought I’d see if I did.”

  Henry raised an eyebrow with a giddy smile.

  “Nathan, huh? You seem… close,” he said, his gaze darting in the direction of the restrooms where only twenty minutes ago I’d sucked Nathan off.

  “Oh,” I said. “You saw that.”

  I scratched the back of my head and felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

  “I think the whole library saw you grope him. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what you did in there,” he said.

  His face was blank, and I wasn’t sure what he felt about the subject. Did he have a thing for Nathan? He seemed to have enjoyed his company at the reunion. Well, the five seconds we were there.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what—uhm got over me,” I said.

  “Relax. Who can blame you? Nathan is a catch. And aren’t we all a little too horny when we first come out?” he laughed.

  The subject was getting into a bit of a weird territory I didn’t know how to navigate, so I switched to what I’ve been meaning to do.

  “Listen, Henry. I-I uhm… I’m sorry for how I treated you at school. I was an idiot, and I didn’t know what I was doing—No. That’s not right. That’s an excuse. I was an idiot. Period. I hurt your feelings, and I hope… erm, one day you can forgive me?”

  When did it get so hot in here? Why was the AC not working all of a sudden?

  I ran the back of my hand across my forehead and wiped the sweat on my shirt.

  “That’s sweet of you. To apologize. You’re… you’re forgiven.”

  I squinted and crouched in front of the desk to meet his gaze at eye level.

  “That was quick,” I said.

  Henry rolled his eyes, but then smiled with sadness.

  “It couldn’t have been easy for you coming to terms with it, considering your…”

  “Dad, yeah.”

  “And I guess we didn’t make it any easier with the way we treated you,” he added.

  “You didn’t…what do you mean?”

  Henry reached out across the desk and put his hand on mine.

  “We all turned on you. The whole class. The whole year. Fuck, the whole town. We didn’t believe you. And that must have been hard. So I’m sorry, too. For not believing you.”

  I searched his eyes for dishonesty but couldn’t find any and a chuckle escaped me.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Tell me. Please,” he said with a grimace.

  I sighed.

  “I always thought you were a snobby little nerd—”

  Henry gasped.

  “Well, thank you, too, asshole.”

  I laughed again.

  “But! I can see now that you’re not,” I explained.

  Henry shot
daggers at me. “Is that why you bullied me?” he asked.

  I wiped the laughter off my face and opened my eyes wide so he knew I was genuine.

  “I bullied you because I was insecure with myself. Not because you did anything wrong.”

  Henry’s face turned red, and he squeezed my hand.

  “Great answer, dude. Too bad you’re hung up on Nathan or I’d take you into those restrooms and show you what a Behrman Blow is,” he finished with a pout.

  How forward of Henry Behrman.

  And how naughty.

  If I wasn’t in love with Nathan, I might have taken up his offer.

  But considering the man was haunting my days and nights, it wouldn’t be fair on Henry. Or me. Or Nathan.

  Hell, is that what Nathan meant with variables? Did he not like me enough to risk getting hurt?

  And if that was what it was, who did he like?

  “Awkward,” Henry sang when I didn’t say anything after several seconds.

  That brought me out of my haze and patted the back of his hand.

  “Thank you, Henry, but like you said, I’m hung up on Nathan,” I said.

  Henry laughed.

  “Don’t worry, darling. I get enough D. You’re not breaking my heart,” he cackled as he scanned the last book and passed them all to me.

  I made to leave, but he called out with a piece of paper in his hand.

  “I know you don’t think you’re any good, but you might be interested in this. I find competitions are always a good, objective indicator of our skills. Well, sometimes. Anyway, it might be fun,” he said and gave me a flyer.

  “We want to hear your stories of heartbreak,” it read. “Send us your gut-wrenching anecdotes for a cash prize of $50 and see your words printed on our college paper and published on our website.”

  “Thanks,” I told him after reading the ad. “You’re a good guy, Henry.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” he huffed with a smirk.

  “Don’t get cocky on me now,” I warned him as I exited the library.

  “Look who’s talking,” he shouted at me just before I came out the door to a cacophony of shushes.

  Did life get weirder than this?

  How had I gone from a pariah and a nobody into an openly gay man—well, almost, anyway—with an interest in literary writing and a friend with benefits?