by Sean Kennedy
Mark wasn’t put off by my comment. “If I was him, I would have given up on you a long time ago. You’re not fooling anybody, Steve, and you’re only making life harder for yourself.”
And with that, he left me.
Everyone was so damned perceptive tonight.
Strangely enough, what Mark said was what affected me the most. I was relying on Joel to never give up on me. Mark was trying to make me see that even saints had limits.
My solitude didn’t last long. Dev was now at my side, crunching ice from his glass of lemonade. He was such a hard drinker.
“You winning your family’s love again?” he asked with a smidgeon of sympathy. Mostly his tone was one of disinterest. I couldn’t let my guard down and let him know it upset me.
“Don’t start,” I told him.
He shrugged, set his glass down, and headed towards the toilet.
I waited a moment, and followed him.
He wasn’t expecting me, just putting his dick back in his pants when I grabbed him and pushed him into one of the stalls. I kissed him as I slammed the door behind us, and freed a hand to lock it. When I tore away from his mouth he managed to gasp “What?” before my hands were in his pants and pulling his dick back out.
“This is crazy,” he said, but didn’t put up any resistance, sliding into a long dark moan as I took him in my mouth. I reached up and covered his lips with the hand that wasn’t guiding his cock. He got the message and breathed heavy against my palm, warming it.
One of his hands snaked around and grabbed my hair, helping me as I sucked him off. This had to be quick; I was due back on stage… oh, about now.
Luckily he must have been extra turned on as I had never done this to him in public before. He shot in the back of my throat and some spilled before I got to swallow it. His head hung forward, hair falling in his face. He was flushed and sweating, and I calmly stood up again and wiped my mouth. As he watched me I licked the back of my hand clean.
“Fuck” was all he could say.
“Later.” I grinned.
“What about you?” he asked, looking down at my dick, straining against my jeans. I adjusted it a little so it pressed against the zipper and was less noticeable.
“Like I said, you can take care of it later.” I looked down at him. “Put your dick in your pants, Dev.”
He did so, and I laughed as I went to the mirror and made myself presentable for the public again.
It was ridiculous, playing with fire like that. My brother or Mark or—god forbid—my father could have come in and wondered what the strange muted grunting was coming from the locked stall, and possibly my feet sticking out under the door. I hadn’t been very careful at all, as I was just thinking about Dev and wanting to get him off.
He took a little longer to exit the toilet, and he must have been scrubbing himself raw to look less sweaty and dishevelled. He almost looked calm and collected, but I could tell a post-orgasmic glow when I saw one. I just hoped Joel and Mark didn’t.
But when I looked out into the crowd, there were only my parents sitting at their table. Joel and Mark had gone.
And it threw me. Joel was my one dependable in life. He always was there for me, no matter how much I neglected him. And he had left halfway through the second set. Was Mark having some new influence upon him, telling him to give up what was obviously a lost cause?
No, that wouldn’t be it. He was trying to warn me before, to stop it from happening. More for Joel’s sake than my own.
I saw Dev frowning at me. He knew something was up.
It just gave me the strength to confidently reintroduce myself and launch into the first song, once again to a largely unreceptive crowd.
Chapter Three
As Dev made to get out of bed and leave, I grabbed hold of his arm. “Hey, do you want to stay the night?”
He gave me a long, hard look. “Christ, are you becoming a nympho?”
I laughed. “If only.”
I knew my laugh didn’t seem very sincere.
“It’s just you usually like me to go,” he said.
“Not all the time.”
“Most of the time.”
He didn’t actually know how much I “allowed” him to stay. He was the only one. Everyone else I made some sort of excuse to get gone, and it was surprising how easy it was—if only because a lot of them were just as eager to get away as well.
“I’d like you to stay,” I said, “if you want to stay.”
“I’m happy staying.” He sounded casual enough as he got back in under the doona. I inched back in to him and rested my head on his shoulder.
We lay there in silence, and Dev of course was the one to break it.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I replied quickly. Too quickly.
“Something’s up.”
“Something was up,” I said in my—admittedly terrible—sexy voice.
“Don’t do that,” he murmured, an edge to his voice.
“Don’t do what?”
“That thing where you pretend everything is about sex. If the Death Star had deflectors as good as you, the Rebels would never have blown it up.”
“You’re such a nerd.” I idly twisted a lock of his dark black hair around my finger. He wore it almost shoulder length, not normally something I liked on a guy, but he wore it well. There was a natural curl in it that made his hair wavy, and when he did a shift at the hospital he had to tie it back. I bet he could have even pulled off a man bun if he wanted to.
“And you’re a dickhead.”
I sat up. “What the fuck?” He had said it in his usual Dev way: cool, calm, and collected. The only problem was, I knew him well enough now that I could pick up on slight nuances. He meant this.
He sat up as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”
“You think I’m a dickhead?” After everything else that had happened that night, it felt like one more blow upon my head.
Dev didn’t allow me self-pity. “You know you’re a dickhead,” he said without hesitation.
Well, he wasn’t wrong. It was just that he’d never said that to me before.
“I’ve never seen you act that badly before towards your family,” he said. “You normally try to turn it into some ‘oh shucks I’m so modest and don’t want the attention’ thing, but tonight you were just mean.”
“I was just the same as I always am to them,” I said, as if it was a badge of honour.
Dev raised an eyebrow. “And you’re okay with that?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Well, it must make you glad then that Joel’s obviously had enough.” He sat up in bed, as if in for the long haul.
“He said that?” I really didn’t want to hear the answer.
Dev gave a small sigh, as if he was getting sick of all this shit. He probably was. “Oh, your mum tried to cover it up as usual. ‘Oh, those boys, they’re always fighting!’ But even she could tell something had changed tonight.”
That made my stomach cramp. She was my mother. Fear made me lash out at the only person available—Dev. “If I’m such a terrible person, then why did you come here tonight and fuck me?”
I was looking for reassurance—anything he could give me. I knew that even as I pushed him away.
“You can fuck a terrible person if you want a fuck, I guess.” He was trying to sound cold and aloof, but it wasn’t his style. He sounded like he was on an audition and doing a terrible reading of a part he knew he couldn’t play. It sounded rehearsed. “Anyway, I guess I better go.” He lifted the blankets and made to get out of bed.
“I asked you to stay,” I said, panicked now that everyone was leaving me. If they all left, then it would just be me. And I was shit for company.
“You know something, Steve? If you hate everyone knowing about you so much, and you actually like the thought of them leaving you alone, why did you ask me to stay the night?”
Why did I? I kn
ew there was a risk of his path crossing with my room-mate Callum’s if he stayed. Our usual sleepovers had coincided—well, been planned to coincide—with nights I knew Callum wouldn’t be home.
But instead of telling Dev that I asked him to stay because I wanted him to, and that I actually liked him doing so, I shrugged. “Any hole in a storm.”
See? That’s how you act the part of a terrible person, and make the audience believe you. It’s also what makes you become a terrible person.
I didn’t think I fooled Dev, though. But he seemed just as tired of me as Joel was. He got out of bed and turned his back on me. “Well, call your brother’s mate for a second round then.”
Maybe I would.
But I didn’t.
Although fate threw me into his path.
The next day, feeling sorry for myself, I hit Leederville to browse the Oxford Street Bookshop and have a decent coffee. I was seduced by the record store as well, and that’s where Connor found me searching through the soundtracks on vinyl.
“Blade Runner?” he asked, by way of greeting. “A bit clichéd to get that on vinyl, isn’t it?”
I shrugged. “Ultimate hipster, that’s me.”
“You’re not wrong. Although the ultimate hipster would probably think only plebs buy Blade Runner to look cool, and there’s something much more niche and unknown you should be getting.”
I put the album back and moved on to the world music section. Connor laughed softly.
“Are you just going to follow me all afternoon and dismiss my record choices?” I asked, pretending to be really interested in some Portuguese folk band.
“It seems like you need a personal shopper to steer you away from hipster doom,” he said.
And I was so desperate for someone to talk to where I didn’t have to hide, I didn’t shut him down. “What would you recommend?”
He leaned against the shelving and shrugged. “I dunno, what about some classics?”
“What, like Elvis? The Little River Band?”
You could have sworn he was sucking on a lemon. Leaning in closely, he whispered, “How about getting more in touch with your gay side? Some ABBA? Kylie? Scissor Sisters? Passion Pit?”
He probably would have kept on listing queer-associated acts if I hadn’t held up my hand. “What makes you think I don’t already have them?”
He stared at me. “Appearances, I guess.”
“I sing ABBA and Kylie in my set lists,” I pointed out. “I’m not that worried.”
“Still scared, though.” He said it like a challenge.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. You’re an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in something else.” It wasn’t said as if it was a compliment.
“Thanks,” I said drolly.
“Oh, come on, why are you so down today?” he asked, admiring a rare Kylie picture disc for “Into the Blue.”
“Who says I’m down?”
He circled his finger in the air around my face. “This whole thing does.”
“Okay, I haven’t had the best couple of days.”
Connor grinned. “I know how to cheer you up.”
And that’s how Connor ended up fucking me against my bedroom wall. I had turned my stereo on to an unacceptable level to try and cover our groans, yelps, and exaltations to God and Jesus. Connor was very vocal, and ended up influencing me, as if we were filming a scene for Randy Blue.
My legs were killing me when we finished, so Connor ended up lying in bed with me instead of immediately disappearing. He liked running his fingers through the hair on my chest, growling appreciatively at my “fur.”
“Both Joel and I are hairy,” I said, before remembering I never wanted my brother to come up in conversation with Connor.
“I know,” Connor said. “I’ve been at the beach with him. Both him and Mark are cute little furballs. I was with someone once, and he was as well. He was beautiful, inside and out, but it didn’t work for us.”
It was the most I had ever heard him say about another guy, and I wondered what made him stick in Connor’s mind, and what caused him to bring him up. There was also the very telling phrasing of being with someone rather than just dating. The guy he referred to wasn’t just some hook-up. He meant something to Connor.
“You couldn’t try again?” I asked.
“Too much water under the bridge.” He suddenly turned dismissive. “Best not to go there.”
Connor’s chest was smooth and nice to touch, but I couldn’t help compare it with Dev’s and all its beautiful little imperfections, like how one nipple was slightly deformed when viewed with the other. Dev however, also had enough chest hair to make it less noticeable. He often groaned when I would give it attention, calling it the “weird little love button.”
My hand dropped away from Connor’s chest.
“What’s the matter?” he asked perceptively.
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Okay, so tell me what happened last night?”
I rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Connor wasn’t distracted. “That’s a sure sign that you do. Shall I use my famous interrogation technique?”
I shuddered when I remembered his expert cocktease of me. “Nope.”
“Pity. I liked watching you try to come as much as when I tried to stop you.”
Jesus Christ, this guy was smooth as fuck. He practically had me on my back, legs in the air again, waiting for his administrations. More than anything, my dick was giving me away, and Connor idly petted it, teasing it in a new and entirely different manner.
“Did you have a fight with Joel?” he asked quietly.
“He was one of the many.” There was something hard about lying to a guy who was stroking you off. It was probably the only time in my life I was completely honest with everything.
“You had a fight with more than one person?”
“Yep.”
“Multitasker,” he mused, his index finger slowly tracing the ridge of my dick. He rested his head on my shoulder as he did so, and although I liked its presence something felt off.
“I think I pretty much offended Mark,” I continued. “And I was mean to my b— friend, Dev.”
“Your b— friend?” he asked, imitating my stutter over the word.
“Friend. Just a friend.”
“Uh-huh,” he said knowingly.
I ignored him to give the whole sad truth. “And, of course, I upset my parents.”
He snorted. “Fuck, you were busy, then.”
“Oh, when I fuck up I go all out.”
“Might as well overachieve if you have a task that needs doing.”
Did he take anything seriously? Dev would be telling me I was an arsehole and a shit, or maybe even a shit coming out of an arsehole, but Connor just found me amusing. Especially when I threw back my head and came again, my foot kicking against his. Connor pulled his hand to his mouth and licked it clean, and I stared at him for a moment as I was reminded of how I did the same to Dev the night before.
Connor lay back, his hand lightly stroking my shoulder as he stared up at the ceiling. “They’re your family. They’ll forgive you.”
“How many times until the camel’s back breaks?” I asked quietly. “I feel like I’ve pushed them to it.”
“Joel is—”
“One of the nicest guys you know, yeah, I’ve heard it all before.”
“Lucky for you, it’s true. You might have one last chance. Best not to blow it, then. I know all about blowing last chances, and they fucking explode everywhere.”
I wondered who the person was that Connor blew his chance with, and how soon my turn would be up.
That last chance for me came a lot faster than I expected.
Chapter Four
Connor was just lacing up his boots when the knock came at the front door.
“You expecting company?” he asked. “I could stick around for a threesome.”
&n
bsp; “Funny,” I said, hoping to hell it wasn’t Dev. Or Callum having forgotten his keys, as my guest could lead to an uncomfortable situation.
It was even worse. Joel stood at the door when I opened it.
“Look, I wanted to apologise for leaving the gig last night,” he said without a breath, barging his way in. “It was just rude of me, and even though you were being rude, I shouldn’t have met it with more rudeness—”
His mouth dropped open when he saw Connor.
“Hey, Joel.”
Couldn’t the fucker have hidden? Was he doing this deliberately to out me?
I told myself to calm down—it wasn’t like Connor could have foreseen this. And there weren’t that many places one could effectively hide in my house; hiding him would have been even harder to explain had Joel found him.
I just hoped the open windows had gotten rid of the smell of sex.
“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” Joel said evenly.
“Mutual friends,” Connor said, cool as ice.
“Who?” Joel asked.
“Frank and Franco.”
Really? He couldn’t have dreamed up better names than that, even off the top of his head?
“What, from the Pride parade committee?” Joel asked.
Holy shit. They were real people?
Joel turned on me. “And how do you know them? I know from experience you try to avoid anything too gay. Besides your TV show, of course.”
Oh man, he was pissed. He normally didn’t resort to cattiness as a crutch.
“Put your claws back in, Joel,” Connor said. He’d obviously noticed it, too.
Of course, you’d have to be particularly dense not to notice the tension in the air.
“Anyway, thanks for the chat about the music biz,” Connor said, shaking my hand. “I’ll keep it in mind if I decide to take it further.”
“Take what further?” Joel asked.
“My band.”
Joel looked sceptical. “You have a band?”
“I’ve always had a band. Didn’t Mark ever tell you? He played tambourine for a short, particularly ineffective time.” Connor smiled, as if he was reliving a memory. “Man can dance, but he’s got no rhythm when it comes to an instrument.”