by Seth King
“What?”
“There were also a lot of quotes about serpents, but they reminded me of how badly I want your serpent, so I looked away from those.”
I blush, and my shoulders fall. If God saw me right now – wait, why am I even questioning that? He can see me right now. I’ve never heard myself think things like this before. He can see me, and He’s everywhere. I’ve got to stop insulting His name, just because I’ve found a few weird parts in His word.
“Okay. I get it. Um…”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking. If we’re going to hang out, we’re going to need some lubrication.”
He sputters and looks like I’ve asked him for drugs. “What?”
“Some lubrication…some wine, so I won’t be such a nervous, conflicted mess.”
His eyes bulge, then his shoulders drop and he lets out some air. “Oh, Jesus, in gay terms, that can mean something very different…I was about to say, down, boy!”
I just stare at him.
“Look, just…never mind.”
“Okay. Would you like some wine?”
He smiles. “I mean, I would love some lubrication, but it’s three in the afternoon, and I was going to ask if you had any plans.”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Do you have any money to spend?”
“On what?”
“Clothes.”
“Why?”
He takes my hand. “Because you dress like a middle-aged Sunday School teacher, and honey, we are going shopping.”
~
Soon we are off to the large indoor mall along the highway.
“You shaved,” he says in the car, smiling to himself. He’s always doing that, noticing things. It’s not like my facial hair was anything more than a five-o-clock shadow before.
“Okay? And?”
“And you’ve usually got some scruff going on. But I like this, too. I really do. Can I put my hand on your leg as I drive?”
“What?”
“I want to touch you. Can I?”
I bite my lip, but then I realize what a dweeb I’m being. In all of my years, nobody has ever wanted me like this. I’ve been alone my whole life. Nobody has ever asked to reach over and just hold me. So I swallow the fear of being seen and smile over at him, and the smile grows three sizes bigger than I’d planned or expected. I guess the physical things I’d been looking forward to can wait until later tonight, if they must…
“Sure you can, Fabian. Sure you can.”
I don’t stop trembling until we turn off the freeway. His touch – it turns me into a fully charged electrical wire…
Once at the mall, I am immediately a little more uncomfortable. We head to a dark, loud store obviously geared toward gay men, and the mannequins in the window are all wearing tiny outfits that look like they were made for go-go dancers. The music is thumping, and the sales boys are wearing suspenders over tiny skin-tight shirts. I take a deep breath, and then…
Let it out again when I realize I am acting like the judgmental church women I hated as a child, the ones who looked down their noses at me because of my family’s issues. This is a freaking store, in a mall. Nobody’s going to die. When am I going to take this stick out of my behind and have a little fun, as Fabian says?
“I see you looking,” he says when we pass a lesbian couple who had matching purple hair.
“I mean, you have to admit, in Georgia that stuff just…stands out.”
“That stuff? Are humans stuff now?”
“Fabian. You know what I mean.”
“No I don’t,” he says soon. “They’re not giving the world consent to gawk at them, they’re just trying to go through the world being who they are. What does it have to do with anyone else?”
“Okay. But…”
“Yes?”
“Could they be a little less…out there?”
He rolls his eyes down at my shirt. “Hey. That blue shirt you’re wearing. I can’t believe you’re wearing that blue shirt. I am literally so offended by that blue shirt.”
“Why?”
“Because my religion tells me to be offended by them, so I am. So even though you like wearing blue shirts, and it’s in your nature to wear blue shirts, could you just stop? You’re just so ‘out there.’”
Slowly I smile, but I’m embarrassed, too. “Okay. Okay, I get it.”
“No you don’t. Don’t you see how silly some of these things you say are? Haven’t you ever questioned anything in your whole life?”
But I don’t want to question them…I think that’s why I am this way. I’m so afraid of…of what I would find.
“Well I got to the other side, and lemme tell ya – I love everything I found. Absolutely everything. Those kids we saw – they’re the ones having all the fun. We could all learn from them, you know.”
I bite my lip. “Is it like that for them a lot? Oh, sorry, I mean – for gay people?”
“Of course,” he says. “Mostly from men. Usually it’s just a smirk or a look like you’re the biggest joke in the world. But I can’t wear certain clothes in public because things would be yelled at me out a window. But the worst part is that you’re not allowed to be hurt by it. You either take the abuse silently, or if you speak up and try to point out the world’s occasional bigotry, they roll their eyes and call you dramatic and act like you don’t have the right to your own feelings. People don’t like admitting that America has problems.”
“Trust me, I get a lot of that at church. If I mention that we should treat women more respectfully, I’m the worst person in the world, and how dare I even accuse anyone of being sexist?”
“Exactly, Venus. Exactly.”
I follow him through the store, and soon I remember again how simply fun it is to be around him. He’s just a really happy person, and that’s important – so many people in this world aren’t happy at all. He is, he is filled with crystal light, and it changes everything about him.
I do have to negotiate over a few items he wants me to try on, though. One yellow top would get me banned from my campus immediately, and one pair of jeans looks so tight my penis would fall off from lack of oxygen. Sure, I’m trying to modernize my wardrobe – he was right when he told me earlier that I exclusively dress myself in boxy khakis and button-down shirts that are easily a size too big – but I’m not trying to lose an appendage in the process.
In the end I try on a stretchy pair of black jeans and a red collared shirt, and I walk out into the common area to find him watching some video on a meme website.
“Ahem,” I say, and he glances up – and then glances past me. I clear my throat again. “Uh, Fabian? I’m right here.”
He looks back at me, then his eyes bulge. “Oh my God,” he says after a moment, walking toward me in a daze. “I, um…I literally did not recognize you for a split-second there. I thought you were a sales boy. You look…”
“What?”
“You look like a liar, because you never once mentioned that you had a swimmer’s body under those huge khakis and tent-like shirts. I mean, those legs…wow. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”
“Why not?”
“Because you look perfect, and I’m trying to be good today.”
“Silence. I’ve got to try on some more. Get ready.”
“Trust me, I mean.”
In the end I settle on the first outfit along with a grey sweater, some tighter T shirts in basic colors, and – to my general horror – a pair of jeans with some holes in the upper thighs. He insists that even straight guys wear these all the time, though, and so reluctantly I head back into the dressing room to get everything. But as soon as I’m alone, the curtain spreads, and he’s in here with me.
In the sunglasses hanging from his shirt collar, I see the reflection of my cross necklace and flinch. “Fabian, we-”
“Shh,” he says, and then he leans in and gives me the best kiss he’s given me yet. My body hums and throbs with the energy of his touch. I give
myself to him, and he writhe against each other for a few seconds before I get my bearings and pull away.
“What are we doing?”
“What? You thought you could look that good around me and get away with it?”
“Fine,” I say, turning away. “Your reactions were turning me on, too. It excites me to have someone be this into me.”
“Get used to it. I’ll be at the cash register.”
I meet him at the registers, blushing when I talk to the store employees, positive that they’d seen our little rendezvous. But then I remember this is a different kind of place, and they probably didn’t give a crap either way. Oh well.
After that he takes me a nice-ish salon in the mall, and they shave off the sides of my head while leaving a pompadour on top – “the gay cut,” as Fabian calls it with a smile. Then he replaces my ugly prescription glasses with some more fashionable tortoiseshell ones that seem so popular lately.
“Look,” he says on the way out, when I’m still buzzing off him. “I don’t want you to think the gay life is all haircuts and fashion. It’s a lot more than that. But at the same time…”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever walked into a gay bar wearing your old clothes, you’d probably clear the room.”
When we get home, my body is simmering with nerves and trepidation and sex. I can’t even explain this, but he makes me feel so alive. I’m making some coffee in the kitchen when I feel a hand on my shoulder again.
“Watching you from across the room was too sexy,” I hear, and I melt. “God.”
“What?”
“I want you.”
“But God doesn’t want me to want you,” I joke.
“Stop that. Are you ready?”
“For what?”
“To do a little…more?”
I swallow. “Are you?”
“Yes. I’ll go slow. I promise.”
I bite my lip, as always. “Say this was a normal male/male relationship. What would you do with someone at this point, if you liked them? Like, in the past?”
“You mean, with a dude? I’d probably have him over for a session of Netflix and…well, you know. Some bang bang-type stuff.”
“You mean…sex?”
He looks away.
“That quickly?”
“Adam. This isn’t your world. Out there, if you find someone you’re attracted to, you kind of just…well, bam. That’s it.”
“I can’t promise you that. But I would like…more.”
“What kind of more?”
I swallow. “Go to my bedroom and I’ll show you.”
He leads me back into the room, and this time, I don’t feel as nervous or as guilty. Fabian is becoming…well, he’s becoming my best friend. Every day with him is a new lesson that he is good and kind and okay, and that being around him is fine. I still feel the tension, obviously, but I’m working through it, too – I am getting there. Every touch is helping.
“I want to see you naked,” he says. “I won’t touch.”
I stop breathing. “Really?”
He sits on the bed. “Really. I promise.”
I press my eyes closed and then decide to just do it. I slide out of my shirt, then kick off my pants. Being exposed to him like this – wow. I’ve only been this en flagrante around other athletes in a locker room when I ran track and field. And even then I hated it, and was sure I was going to get hard at any moment…
Mary Magdalene stares at me from the painting above, judging me, but I ignore her eyes.
“More,” he says. “Let me see it all.”
“And you’re just going to…look?”
“Scout’s Honor.”
“Don’t the Boy Scouts not even admit gay boys?”
“It was a figure of speech. Work with me here.”
I take a breath, close my eyes, and slide out of my boxers. When I open them, I am standing naked in front of another man. And his eyes are large and unreadable.
“What?”
“You’re just…wow. Thick. I like it.”
“Thanks…”
He leans in. “Tell me, what do you do when you’re in the shower and…well, lustful thoughts come into your mind?”
I inhale some air and play along. “Well…maybe I’d do…this.”
I take myself into my hand, then start rubbing. Slowly at first, and soon I hear myself moan. I am masturbating for a man – this is really happening. Again. I’m sure they’re wearing sweaters in hell, and making a place for me, too.
No, don’t think like that…nothing is wrong with this…
I’m fully hard, and moaning now. The guilt and the shame and desire are mixing to make me feel like a human volcano. I use some spit and start rubbing faster, but my legs are about to buckle.
“Get on the bed,” he says, his eyes ravenous. His black hair is so silky and smooth, I want to grab it right now – but I can’t. But still, what could he do with that mouth? What talents is he hiding from me? I might be a virgin, but I am still a male.
I hold my breath, and then suddenly his tongue is making contact with my body, and I am officially sinning. And it feels so, so good.
He starts at the place where my balls meet my left thigh, then licks his way up my dick. I moan louder and lean back, my abs flexing in the dim light. He sucks one ball, then another, rolling his tongue all over. It’s better than anything I’ve ever felt.
“Damn, you have a tight hole,” he says to himself, and I rock back. “What? You didn’t think I would look?”
“I mean…no? I don’t know about that.”
“You’ve never had a girl lick it, have you?”
I hide my face with my arm.
“I knew it. Hold your legs back.”
“What?”
“Pretend I’m a girl, doing something to you.”
“But you’re not.”
“So?”
“Fine…”
I do as I am told and hold back my legs. He gets closer, closer, closer, and then…
As soon as his tongue reaches me, I let out a gaspy little sigh. He is touching nerve endings I didn’t even know were there; he is awakening areas I didn’t even know were dormant. He licks and licks and licks, then I feel something part like curtains, and his finger is dancing around my entrance, and then-
The doorbell rings. And I go dead still. Who in the world could it be?
“What day is it?” I ask him, and his face is down between my legs in a way that is so sexy I want to take a photo.
“Friday. Why?”
My heart stops beating. Then my phone vibrates with a text from Tanner:
Dude, your porch light isn’t on, and it’s the Nativity meeting tonight. You’re home, right?
My stomach falls toward my toes as I realize what I’ve forgotten: I have a church group meeting tonight, and the first member is waiting outside the door. Two of them, actually. And they want to be let in.
Now.
Adam Venus
Every year, the church associated with my school throws one of the largest Bethlehem reenactments in the world, with camels, shops, and a massive nativity area. The Bethlehem Experience is under the purview of the school, and this year I’m on the advisory committee. And I’d totally forgotten that the first meeting was tonight. I’ve already been blowing them off enough lately, and they’re probably suspicious. Besides that, my car is in the driveway. I have no way out of this. I’ll have to welcome five men into my living room. Five straight, Christian men.
The first thing I know is that I can’t, under any circumstances, let them see Fabian. The next, just as important, thing is that I can’t let him know I’m hiding him, either.
I stand up, trying to stay cool. “Hey. Stay in here. I’m gonna cook you dinner. A surprise dinner.”
“Really? But I’m not really hungry.”
“Yes you are.”
“Um, okay. Let me help, then.”
“No! Stay in here. It’s a surprise. Come out one time, and I’
ll be very, very mad.”
I push him back on the bed and head out into the living room. The whole group is already here, and I am mortified. But still I try to make everyone welcome, sitting them on what little furniture I have.
“Hey, hey, sorry, I was showering. Welcome! Come, you know the drill, let’s just sit in the living room…”
Everyone settles in. We begin with prayer, and then it’s onto the details of Bethlehem. But inside, I’m a wreck. My secret boyfriend, or whatever he is, is hidden away, ten feet from us. Sweat is running down my head, and my stomach is boiling. Then I remember I’m supposed to be cooking for Fabian.
“Hold on,” I say five minutes into the meeting. “Or, I mean, keep going. I’m gonna make us some snacks.”
“But it’s eight. We’ve all eaten dinner.”
“I haven’t, so I guess they’re all for me!” I say as I head into the kitchen, which is still open to the living area. I listen halfheartedly to the boring meeting as my mind flashes with images of what he just did to me.
“Remember to send the deposit to the petting zoo lady for the camels and the goats…call the fire department to make sure we’re cleared to have that bonfire next to the front gates…”
When I’ve microwaved some leftover chicken casserole, I pass them on the way to my bedroom. “Hey, um, I have to…pee.”
“With food?” Tanner asks, motioning at the plate in my hand.
“I mean…yes. Be right back.”
I disappear into my bedroom and lock the door. When I turn back around, I gasp – he’s naked on my bed, staring up at me, with his hard penis in his hands.
Oh, no.
“What took you so long?” he asks, beckoning me forward. “I told you I wasn’t hungry.”
“Oh,” I say, coming forward as if on autopilot. “Um, I’m hungry, so I figured I’d…start eating. Remember, don’t go out there yet, okay? I’m still…making dessert.”
“I’m not going out there, because you’re coming over here.”
“What?”