by A. J. Truman
“He wouldn’t be the first closeted guy to date women,” Henry said.
That was the main talking point in this type of discussion. There were guys who dated 100 girls or were married for thirty years and still turned out to be gay. Mac knew that dating women was a flimsy excuse to prove one’s heterosexuality.
“If he were gay, he’d be out.” That was what Mac always told himself. Gideon wasn’t the type to be holed up in the closet. He’d be just as well-liked gay as he is straight.
But Henry studied Gideon. He didn’t seem convinced.
“I saw you guys come in. If any stranger had seen you, they’d assumed you were boyfriends.”
“What?”
“The body language.” Henry shrugged. “I wondered if you guys were secretly dating.”
“You have got it so wrong.”
“Have I? My ’dar is pretty damn good.” Henry dumped his empty beer bottle in the trash. “It’s a shame. You two would make a really cute couple.”
Henry rejoined the party. Mac stared out the window. He ran through the memories of him and Gideon in the apartment. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like longer, like they’d entered an alternate universe where they didn’t fight freshman year and they’d stayed friends this whole time.
Delia brought out twenty-one gluten-free chocolate cupcakes, each with a lit candle sticking out of them. Henry shut the lights as she walked it to the dining table. Gideon led them in singing “Happy Birthday,” waving his arms like a conductor. He grinned at Mac, his face silhouetted in the candlelight. Shivers of want descended down Mac’s spine.
Minutes later, Mac was still by the window, surveying the party. Gideon stumbled over, his tall, lanky body knocking into an end table. He held two cupcakes and handed one to Mac.
“I’m glad somebody got wasted at a twenty-first birthday,” Mac said.
Gideon rolled his eyes, still grinning. Usually, he was just an extra-social drunk, but it seemed that Gideon had crossed over into sloppy.
“Funny funny funny. You are so funny.” Gideon tapped Mac’s nose with his finger.
Mac’s jeans tightened. Please don’t do that again.
“I am just enjoying life,” Gideon said. He shrugged his shoulders over and over, like saying “what’s the big deal” on infinite repeat. It was freaking adorable.
“I’m glad. Don’t let your family shit drag you down. Your mom and brother need to work that out themselves.”
“They’re family. I can’t just abundant them.”
“Abandon?”
Gideon did his classic double-point. Mac caught Henry looking at them. He turned red.
“My dad, my dad he passed away eight years ago this week. He did.” Gideon raised his glass to him. Mac’s heart went out to him. He wanted to give Gideon a hug, but a bro pat on the back seemed more appropriate. “He was a real gentleman. Real class act. Like fothermucking Cary Grant or something.”
“I’m sure he was.” Mac tried to take Gideon’s cup away gently. “Do you want a glass of water?”
Gideon yanked his hand back. “What happened with your parents, Big Mac?”
Mac’s insides went cold. “We can talk about that later.”
“Did the mom-and-pop shop kick you out for being gay?” Gideon asked it so innocently, like a child not realizing what he just said aloud. Heads turned to them. Mac wanted to strangle him, if his own memories didn’t strangle himself first.
“Shut the hell up, Gideon. You’re way too drunk for this party.”
“If your parents are still alive, you shouldn’t ignore them. They’re the only parents you got. And they may be gone soon.”
Mac grabbed Gideon by the shoulders and shoved him against a bookcase. Picture frames smacked down. His head burned with anger and hurt. Once the memories started, they wouldn’t stop.
“Mind your own fucking business.”
Delia approached them, concern ringing her eyes. Mac released Gideon and left the party.
Φ
Mac lay in bed, unable to shut his eyes. He heard Gideon creak open the front door. Mac turned toward the wall, hoping to block out the noise.
And then he heard a knock on his room divider.
“Mac?”
“What do you want?”
“I’m sorry. I was an asshole.”
“Yep. You sure were.” Mac rolled around to face him. He made out his eyes and pouting lips in the soft light from the kitchen.
“You want some mac n’ cheese?”
The most frustrating thing about Gideon was how hard it was to stay mad at him. Mac wondered if he was the only person to have this problem. He ripped his blankets off. “Sure.”
A few minutes later, there they were, sitting on the couch, eating mac n’ cheese. Mac wasn’t even hungry, but he was going to finish his bowl.
“I’m sorry. I’m just still stressed about my family. It was like somebody threw a grenade on the dinner table, and I couldn’t save anyone.”
“Maybe that’s not your job right now,” Mac said. “You want to be the good son and the good brother, but sometimes it’s best not to take a side. This isn’t your battle.”
“But it’s my family. I didn’t even say goodbye to my brother when he left.”
There was something about the late night and the mac n’ cheese that made the flood gates open in Mac.
“I wasn’t out in West Virginia…” Mac started. Those gates were rusty. They weren’t just going to fly open, not after being shut all these years. “In high school, I went on the computer in the school library to research this gay-straight alliance I’d heard about for kids in my region. This asshole Justin Weeks was looking over my shoulder and saw. He’s the pastor’s son, and he thinks that entitles him to be a dick to everyone because his dad’s tight with Jesus. Word spread like wildfire. A few days later, I’m walking home from school, and I got jumped by Justin and his pals. They said they were doing the Lord’s work.” He could still hear their laughter. Mac raised his shirt to show Gideon the scar on his back. “I tried telling the school, but since it didn’t happen on school property, there was nothing they could, or would, do. And my parents…”
He shoved the flood gates open with all the strength he had. “After two weeks of walking through school with bruises and getting looked at, I finally told my parents. It was the most awkward coming out. They went to have a talk with the pastor, who said Justin and I were just roughhousing. And my parents believed him! They went to church on Sunday like nothing had happened. They said I was being too sensitive.” Mac’s hands started shaking.
“Those fucking assholes,” Gideon muttered. Mac had never seen him angry.
“I hated living with them. They didn’t try to do anything to stand up for me. Justin didn’t get into any trouble. My parents cared more about what others at church would think. We got in a huge argument. I ran away to my Aunt Rita’s in Pittsburgh.” Mac clenched his jaw. Here came the hardest part. “My parents told me to stay. They didn’t want me back.”
He picked up his keys from the coffee table. “On my first night there, Aunt Rita bought a pair of four-leaf clover keychains. One for me, one for her. She promised things were going to work out. We had luck on our side. ‘May we always be each other’s good luck charms,’ she said to me.”
Mac’s keys jiggled against each other. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. They were in shock. He was in shock. He put down the keys and shook out his hands, but they continued trembling. Giving Gideon all this personal info was like dry heaving.
“How long has it been since you’ve spoken to them?”
“Four years.”
“Fuck.”
“Life in Pittsburgh was fine. I had some friends, but kept to myself mostly. I stayed in the closet and told myself I wasn’t coming out until college, where it wouldn’t be such a big deal.” Even if he had to take out a crapload of loans to make it happen, he was determined to attend an accepting school like Browerton. Fortunately, he won some loca
l scholarship money to make tuition slightly less burdensome.
Mac rubbed his hands together. Stop shaking. He felt raw, exposed. If he didn’t talk about it, then he never had to think about it. That’s how he got through life. Now, he didn’t know what to do with all these damn emotions he had stirred up.
Gideon looked at him with kind eyes, with a sincerity that made Mac’s hands shake even more.
And then stopped shaking.
Gideon held them steady with his own. His large hands maintained a firm grip. Mac was soothed by their warmth. Gideon bent down and kissed the tip of his fingers.
They locked eyes in the silence of the room, and Mac was shaking all over again. The same nerves he felt the first time they met, up in his dorm room, came rattling back.
This time, though, it was Gideon who kissed him.
CHAPTER ten
Gideon
Gideon refused to listen to his brain. He didn’t want to hear what it would say. A deeper part of him, one he had shoved down long enough, refused to stay silent any longer. Passion burned through him like that wall of fire in Independence Day.
His tongue licked up the salty taste of Mac’s lips. He inhaled his hot breath. Mac kissed him back with equal fervor. Gideon cupped the sides of his head, and felt a man’s stubble under his palms.
Gideon pulled away.
“Shit,” he said. “Shit.”
“Should we stop?” Mac asked.
Gideon leaned in for another kiss. Mac pecked his lips, then opened his mouth for Gideon’s tongue. His felt a cage inside him get yanked open. He didn’t know what flew out, but it was awfully similar to what he felt in his shower back home. Mac’s story reminded him of the unrestrained glee of his Internet searches in middle school and part of high school. Before he made himself stop. Before he told himself that he was just acting out because his dad died. Before he made himself believe that looking at gay porn wasn’t what good, responsible sons did.
He didn’t want to be responsible. Not now. He wanted to live this moment with absolute abandon.
Gideon pulled away. This time, nobody spoke. His erection strained against his jeans. He stopped thinking. He just wanted to let things fucking happen.
Every nerve on every inch of skin was more alert than a syringe full of Red Bull.
Still, nobody spoke. Talking would ruin it. Talking would involve his brain and thought functions. He wanted the night and the alcohol to have full control.
He kissed Mac again, slower this time, savoring each flick of the tongue, each gasp of breath. Mac slid backward on the chaise part of the sofa, and Gideon laid on top on him. His hands traveled across Mac’s muscular chest. There was nothing delicate about his body. It was hardy and full. Stew, not salad.
Gideon ran his hands up and down his chest and stomach, while he pressed his aching crotch into Mac’s legs. Mac moaned at each thrust. He’d never heard that sound during sex. It was deep and husky. He wanted more of it. It was his new drug.
“I want to see you naked,” Gideon whispered in his ear. Mac let out a gutteral moan, which he took as a fuck yes.
They stood at opposite ends of the couch.
Mac pulled off his shirt and let it drop to the floor. Gideon got a full view of his ripped roommate. His eyes took snapshots of the full curves of his chest muscles and every ab just below. No looking away this time. Gideon nodded for him to continue. Mac tucked his hands into the waistband of his shorts. Hearing the snap of the elastic sent a chill of anticipation through Gideon. Mac pushed his shorts to his ankles. His hard cock pointed straight at Gideon. It was like a fucking mallet. Ready to pounce. He clocked the way his thighs curved like a wine glass, the bulge of his knees. It was all Mac.
“Holy shit. You’re naked.” Gideon gulped back a breath. His cock raged against his pants in approval.
“I want to see you naked.”
Gideon’s lips trembled with excitement and a garnish of fear. He stripped off his clothes. The open air hit his exposed skin and made his cock even harder. It stuck up in the air, nearly pulling him closer to Mac.
“Holy shit. You’re naked,” Mac said, a smile quirking on his lips.
They stared at each other’s naked bodies for an extended moment. I’m looking at Mac naked. He wanted to touch. He wanted to be touched.
“What do you want to do?” Mac asked.
“I want to watch you come.” Gideon wanted to see the scene from the shower come to life. Mac’s face flush with orgasm, his hard body coming undone.
They made out on the couch. Gideon stroked himself as he felt Mac’s warm lips on his and Mac’s rapid breaths in his throat. He watched Mac grip his cock firmly and that made Gideon pump his dick harder. Gideon palmed Mac’s chest, and dragged a finger down the crease of his abs.
“Grab my dick,” Mac said.
Gideon couldn’t turn him down. No fucking way on the planet. His hand wrapped around Mac’s thick, warm erection. Fuck, I’m grabbing another guy’s dick. It was as a cock should feel, but different.
New.
Forbidden.
Mac spat on his hand and wrapped it around Gideon’s cock.
“Fuck!” Gideon had never felt a pleasure like this. It was like Mac got to some secret level of a game Gideon didn’t know existed. He wondered why he never thought to slick up his own hand when he masturbated.
Gideon’s cock disappeared into Mac’s saliva-coated fist. Gideon spat on his hand and continued jerking off Mac. Their arms moved wildly. Mac’s biceps tensed. He tried to kiss Gideon again but their breathing was too heavy. Mac pushed himself back on the cushions and jutted his cock in the air, giving Gideon amazing leverage.
“Yes,” Gideon whispered.
Mac hung his head back. His chest glistened with sweat and Gideon knew what was coming. His cock twitched in anticipation. Mac fucked his fist.
It was the face. Exactly the face Gideon pictured, but even better in person. His come overflowed out of Gideon’s hand.
He couldn’t wait for Mac to return to earth. His own dick was going to blow. Gideon returned his hand, soaked in Mac, to his own cock and stroked himself. He looked at Mac’s still-naked body, then at his own, and the image was overpowering. He shot all over his stomach.
He joined Mac in reclining on the couch. They stared up at the ceiling. Gideon’s heart returned to a normal rhythm, but that was the only normal thing in this living room.
CHAPTER eleven
Mac
Mac woke up the next morning not entirely sure if what happened last night really happened. But then he realized he was only in his underwear and his lips were sore.
Yep, happened.
His head pounded with a gnarly hangover, even though he didn’t remember drinking much last night. Must’ve been that gluten-free beer. And all the excitement of what happened.
Because it really happened.
He lay back down. He was in no position to think.
Mac went over everything from last night. His talk with Henry. Gideon asking Mac about his family. Mac telling him the whole sordid, painful story of West Virginia. Mac n’ cheese. Gideon’s mouth coming at his.
Gideon kissed him. That was an incontrovertible fact.
He pictured Gideon naked in front of him. The light dusting of chest hair.
And then coming. They both came. Right next to each other.
Mac stuck a hand down his boxers. He was sticky.
Yep, happened.
Mac pushed himself out of bed, one hand rubbing his temples. He dragged his hunched body to the kitchen for a glass of water. The sun poured in and reflected off the appliances. Mac didn’t realize how dehydrated he was until he drank the water, and then another glass.
He stumbled over to Gideon’s bedroom. He held his fist at the door, but didn’t knock. He didn’t know what to say. The last guy he hooked up with before last night was Davis. That was a different kind of awkwardness, a normal and routine awkwardness that was accompanied with blushing and feelings. Mac wa
s unsure how to broach last night’s events.
He’d have to start thinking because Gideon swung the door open.
“Hey,” he said. “I gotta take the piss of my life.”
Mac moved out of the way so Gideon could shuffle to the bathroom. He put on his shirt, which sat on the floor beside the couch (happened!), and waited there for Gideon to finish. He tapped his fingers together, anxious as hell.
Gideon went from the bathroom straight to the kitchen for some water. Mac hung in the doorway.
“So…”
Gideon chugged his water.
“Yeah….”
And kept chugging. He was downing it all in one drink. He refilled his glass and kept drinking.
“Did you sleep okay? I’m mega hungover.”
Gideon pointed at his now-half-empty glass of water.
“You’ve got to rehydrate,” he said.
“Yeah. I had a glass this morning.”
“I think it was also all that crap at the party, and the mac n’ cheese. I should probably put less salt in and trust that the cheese and pasta are tasty enough.” Gideon poured himself a third glass of water. Mac turned off the tap.
“Gideon.”
It both hit them what happened last night. It was in their historical record.
Done. Never to be erased.
Fucking happened.
“Yeah,” Mac said. He wanted to tell Gideon that it was strange, but a good strange. A strange he wouldn’t mind repeating more than once. But he didn’t want to be the first one to speak. There was some unspoken agreement that Gideon would have to break the silence.
“Look, last night…” Gideon said. He looked at the couch. The scene of the crime. “I was super drunk. Like beyond wasted.”
“Drunk?” Mac asked, incredulous. Not too drunk to cook mac n’ cheese, though.
“So drunk. And I haven’t gotten laid in a few weeks. So I think it was just really drunk and really horny and it…” Gideon clapped his hands together to signify the combination. “It was….a night. But we were both just super drunk.”