by Z. B Heller
All I could do was stare in awe at the man before me. He’d hidden away the part of himself that came so naturally to me. I could never imagine hiding my homosexuality long term. But I had the support of my family and my friends who cared about me to get me through it. I was lucky when I came out, but my heart crumbled for Brandon.
“Brandon, I am so sorry,” I whispered.
Brandon shifted in his seat to face me. “No, don’t do that. Don’t feel sorry for me. I did what I did to protect myself and you because I cared so much about you, and the thought of anything happening to you made me want to go apeshit.”
I smile sheepishly. “Being a little overprotective, aren’t you?”
“Never when it comes to you,” he said softly, stroking my face with the back of his hand.
Any other words I wanted to formulate left my brain the second Brandon touched me. My chest felt full, and my stomach twisted in knots. I leaned into Brandon’s touch and shut my eyes. Then Brandon’s soft, sweet lips were back on mine.
I had no intention of pulling back this time.
Kissing Ryan was even more than I remembered. When we kissed so many years ago, it was so quick, and I was so nervous I didn’t get to enjoy it thoroughly. Now I had the chance to burn the feeling into my brain and savor it forever. This time, I was more than positive it was what I wanted. I was tired of hiding all my feelings from Ryan. He knew everything there was to know about me, except this huge part about my sexuality that I was finally able to share with him.
Ryan’s lips were as smooth as satin; his bottom lip was full, and I wanted to bite it and then lick the sting away with my tongue. Our kisses started slow and sweet, but maybe Ryan was holding back because he was still unsure of my feelings, even though I laid myself bare. I couldn’t blame him, though; more than once, I’d started with a kiss and then ran away. But for the first time, my confidence bloomed. I never had felt as safe as I did at this moment.
He raised his hand and held it to my cheek. “Are you sure about this, Brandon? I don’t think I would be able to handle it if you told me it was a mistake again.” His hazel eyes looked directly into my own, searching for the truth that was buried somewhere inside of me.
“This is not a mistake, Ryan. I’ve wanted this for a long time. I just didn’t know how or when. I don’t want to be scared anymore. You make me want to be brave.”
Ryan’s breath hitched and his eyes became wet. “What is it? What’s wrong?” I said softly.
“I feel like a kid finally getting the toy they were begging for their birthday.”
“So I’m your boy toy?” I mused.
“No, I begged for a butt plug, but you’ll do.” He laughed, and the tears that had threatened to spill were gone.
I shoved Ryan playfully, which only caused him to laugh harder. I climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, and tickled his sides, which was ground zero of his ticklish spots.
“Stop!” He tried hard to catch his breath between laughing fits. “I call a truce!” I stopped the torture. I cocked my head to the side and looked down at him. His smile was radiant. He crooked one of his fingers, drawing me closer. “Come here. I want to taste those lips again.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I bent down so our heads met and I fused my mouth to his. The sweetness that had been there before was replaced with a hunger to devour each other. Ryan’s tongue peeked out, looking for an invitation to enter my mouth, and I invited him in. Our tongues touched for the first time and a jolt of adrenaline rushed straight to my groin. An unexpected moan escaped my throat as our tongues danced together in an erotic tango. He tasted like beer and mint-flavored gum. I couldn’t get enough. Ryan hugged me closer so our chests were touching. I could feel his heartbeat pounding just as quickly as my own.
My focus soon moved south to Ryan’s cock hardening beneath my own hardness. Without thinking, I rocked my hips in a circle, making sure we both could feel the friction of our lust rubbing together.
“Oh God, Brandon.” His eyes were closed, and he pushed his head deeper into the couch. Ryan’s hands moved from my back down to my hips and guided them as I moved against his groin.
“Does it feel okay?” I asked, feeling hesitant that I was doing something wrong.
Ryan’s eyes flew open and he looked at me like I had just sprouted another head. “Okay? You’re kidding, right?”
I sat upright and stopped the movement of my hips. “I just don’t know what I’m doing. I kind of feel stupid,” I said, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.
Ryan sat up, still keeping me seated on his lap. “Brandon.” He took my face in his hands. “Don’t ever feel stupid about this or doing what feels right and good for you. I can guarantee that what feels good for you is also going to feel good for me.” He gave me a sly grin. “But I will walk you through whatever you feel comfortable doing. I never want you to feel embarrassed. I know this is all new to you, and I’m honored I get to be the one doing it with you.” He stroked my cheek, and I looked deep into his eyes.
“I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. I’ve wanted only you for as long as I can remember. There were so many nights I fantasized about you before I would…” I shook my head.
“No, don’t do that.” Ryan lifted my chin, and I opened my eyes. “Tell me what you think about. I want to know.”
I paused for a minute and wondered if I could get the words past my throat. I took a deep breath. “I would lie on my bed and think about kissing you—what it would feel like again. When we kissed at your graduation party, it was so fast, and all I could think about was how I could backtrack.” Ryan nodded but didn’t respond. “Then I thought about kissing your neck, your shoulders, and your stomach.”
“Did I have my shirt off in this fantasy of yours? I mean, it would be a terrible waste to have fabric between us.” He grinned, and I rolled my eyes.
“Yes, your shirt is off.”
“I think you should show me exactly how you imagined it in your head,” Ryan said, lifting his arms and pulling his shirt off. The sight of Ryan’s torso made me want to swallow my tongue. “Show me,” he whispered.
I bent my head down to graze his shoulder with my lips, pressing soft kisses down his collarbone. I continued to pepper his chest with sweet kisses, placing my hands on his thick biceps to steady myself. Ryan moaned. “What else do you think about?”
“You taking off my shirt and licking me from my neck to my jeans.”
Ryan cocked an eyebrow. “Just your jeans, huh?”
I nodded. “You like to tease me.”
“Is that so?”
I nodded again and smiled ruefully.
Ryan scooted me off his lap and stood up from the couch. Shit, I went too far. I covered my eyes with my hand, hoping the earth would open up and swallow me whole.
“Stand up,” he said. I uncovered my eyes, and Ryan stuck out his hand, offering to help me up.
I took it and lifted myself off the couch. Ryan led us to his bedroom, not letting go of our linked hands. He opened the door, let go of my hand, and felt his way over to his dresser in the dark. He took a box of matches, struck one, and lit a candle. The candle cast a soft glow around his room. It wasn’t a large room, but Ryan made it work for what he needed. A full-sized bed took up the most space, but he had a dresser and matching nightstands that flanked each side of the bed. I’d imagined that bed rumpled and mussed in one too many fantasies. Some included ripping the gray comforter off while Ryan pinned me down. In others, we would just kiss for hours when we should have been studying. But the real Ryan—not the one in my head—was standing in front of me, and my deepest desires were hopefully about to come true.
I walked up to him and placed my hand on his chest to make sure that he was real, not something I was dreaming up. He took the hem of my shirt in his hands and slowly pulled it over my head before letting it fall to the floor. Ryan placed a small kiss on my lips before moving to my neck. His tongue darted out, and he sucked on his skin befor
e tracing a line lower. He stopped when he got to my nipple and licked the areola that surrounded the hardened bud, but then he took the point of his tongue and started to flick my sensitive nipples.
“Fuck!” I moaned and threw my head back.
“Mmm.” Ryan hummed before stopping. “Looks like someone is sensitive there. I’ll have to store that information in the back of my brain for next time.”
“Next time?” I brought my eyes back to meet his, which were desperate with need.
“Brandon, if you think this is going to be it, you are very mistaken. I’ve gotten a taste of your sweet mouth. There is no turning back for me.”
All I could do was give a lazy nod. Ryan fell to his knees as he pressed his tongue back on my body. His tongue felt cool against my burning skin—as if I was the fire and he was my only relief. He continued his seductive trail until he got to the strip of hair that led from my navel down into my jeans.
He looked back up at me. “What do you think of next?” His voice was sultry. I was positive he knew what I was thinking, but he wanted me to vocalize it. The problem was I froze. I opened my mouth, but nothing would come out. My mouth went dry, nerves winning over the pleasure I was feeling just a second ago. I wanted Ryan so much I felt an intense ache inside. But dark fear swallowed it whole. My eyes became unfocused, and I felt unsteady on my feet.
“Brandon.” I heard Ryan’s voice in the distance of my mind, but I couldn’t process what he was saying. He stood and took my arms into his hands. “Brandon. Look at me,” he said with a little more force.
Tears stung my eyes; the shaking started to get worse. I gasped for air and clawed at my neck. My legs felt weak, and Ryan caught me in his arms before I fell to the floor. He sat me on the edge of his bed. My head pounded from fear and the unknown. My skin grew clammy, and I gripped the comforter like it was my only anchor in the turbulent sea of my mind.
I felt arms surround me, holding me tight as hushed words tried to break through my panic. All I felt was shame. The guilt weighed so heavy on my mind when the thought of my father invaded uninvited. “You don’t deserve him, you are nothing, and you are a loser,” I heard my father say. The tears fell of their own accord. I want to vomit and purge all of the hate I was feeling. Hate toward myself and hate for the man who instilled these thoughts in me.
“I hate you!” I screamed. “I hate you.” My body convulsed as I shouted into the air. “Why couldn’t you leave me alone, you asshole?”
I continued crying, lost in my mind and suffering from years of pent-up abuse that still haunted me.
I must have passed out sometime in the night and woke up—shirtless—surrounded by a pair of muscular arms. Ryan’s nose was buried deep in the crook of my shoulder and neck. His strength helped me through the whole night, and I nestled deeper into his embrace, relishing the feel of this beautiful man.
The early morning brought birds chirping outside Ryan’s bedroom window. The sun streamed in and caught the end of the bed. I twisted myself out of Ryan’s arms to peek at the clock. Six thirty. My head went back onto the pillow. Did last night really happen? Was my panic attack real? Oh shit, it was. I absolutely fell apart on Ryan when we were going to be intimate. Ugh! Being with Ryan was something I’d wanted for so damn long, and I had let my past creep up and take over. But Ryan was still here in bed with me. I couldn’t remember everything I’d said. All I remembered was that the images of my father beating me and spewing hateful words had taunted me. There were words like fag, homo, and little bitch. I shuddered and Ryan stirred, giving a small, sleepy sigh. I had to face him and explain.
I peered over at him and he rolled onto his side. “Hi,” he said, his voice a little raspy.
“Hey,” was all I could say. I looked away, feeling ashamed about my meltdown from last night. He pulled my chin in his direction.
Ryan propped himself up on one arm and rested his head on his hand. “Look at me.” His voice was quiet and sweet.
It took me a second, but I did as he asked. How could I possibly resist him when he looked so gorgeous with ruffled bedhead?
“Tell me what last night was about?”
“Well, I pretty much laid it out there that I wanted to get into your pants and have wanted to do so for a long time. Then we had a pretty amazing make out session. Your lips are very soft.” I smiled, trying to evade answering what he wanted to know.
“While I agree wholeheartedly with that statement, I was talking about the part where you freaked out and told me you hated me. If I didn’t know you better, I would think there was some multiple personality disorder going on.”
I pulled my chin out of his hand and sighed loudly. It was time to come clean about my past with my parents. I just hoped it didn’t push him away. “There are a lot of things that you don’t know about me.”
“If you’re not circumcised, I’m sure we could work around that.” His eyes twinkled. “I watched a porno one time where this guy had this massive uncut cock, and when he pulled back the foreskin, I swear there was another hidden three inches.”
I turned my head to look at him, furrowing my brow. “Seriously?”
“Nah, I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit.”
I chuckled softly. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s about my parents.”
Ryan’s face fell. He knew I didn’t talk about my parents, but then he never did push the issue, either. I spent so much time at the Keller’s that in time, the idea of my parents just faded away. If the subject were brought up about where they were, I would always explain that they worked a lot. I even said they were visiting my sick grandmother in Iowa when they couldn’t help me move into the dorms freshman year. The truth is I’m not even sure they noticed I left. Well, maybe my dad did when his punching bag wasn’t around to take the brunt of his shit. The memory of his beatings made the faded scars on my back burn.
“Brandon, you could tell me that you had dentures or a tattoo of Hulk Hogan on you, and it wouldn’t change how I feel. Well, maybe the idea of having Hulk Hogan on your ass when I want to be the one on there.”
Ryan anywhere near my ass made my dick ache, but if we were going to continue, I had to be completely honest with him and share all of me.
“My parents are terrible people,” I started. “All those times I told you that they were working weren’t accurate. They were usually home, smoking, drinking, and I’m sure getting high. My mom was elusive, not caring if I came or went anywhere. As long as she had her TV and cigarettes. My dad, however, couldn’t keep a job because he was always drunk. The saddest part was I had very little memory of him ever being sober. One time he told me that I was a complete mistake because, I believed his words were, ‘This chick at the bar was so fucking hot and she wouldn’t fuck me. I was left just fucking your mama so I wouldn’t have blue balls.’ ”
Ryan found my hand and squeezed it. It gave me strength to continue. “I was ten when I started to notice boys. My dad used to tease me by throwing his Playboy magazine in my face, and I had no interest in it. Even at ten, I should have been interested in what a naked girl looked like. So he started calling me fag and homo; everything was about being a faggot. If he’d didn’t like the show my mom was watching, he’d call it something faggots would watch. When he got fired from one of the many jobs he attempted, he said the guy was a fudge packer and didn’t deserve to live.”
“Jesus,” Ryan muttered.
“It was also around that time I started to become more mouthy, getting sick of all the shit he spouted. But I didn’t stand a chance against him. He was bigger and quicker, even when he was drunk. He made me go outside and pick out a thin branch so he could whip me with it. It would become a routine: mouth off, find a switch, and get whipped.”
Ryan sat up quickly. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything to anyone? People at school or the police?”
“Because I didn’t have the same support system you did. If I went to the police, I would
have been removed and probably put into foster care. I didn’t say anything at school because I had this weird fear that they would somehow find out I was gay. I grew up with someone who taught me that being gay meant you were inadequate and disgusting. Don’t you remember what happened the day you met me? Those guys were already spewing shit, and they didn’t know anything.”
Ryan dropped his head. Then he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands.
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. They’re out of my life; I’m doing everything in my power to make it through school so there will be no chance of me ever going back.”
Ryan looked up, but his jaw was tight. “I don’t feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for that motherfucker father of yours if I ever meet him. But I’m furious at you.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I sat there like an idiot.
“You should have told me. You needed someone in your corner, to be there, to protect you. You deserved more than what you were given.”
“Ryan, if you were there, he would have hurt you, too. And it wasn’t your job to take care of me. I wish things could have been different for me, but they weren’t. Who knows, if my life were different, maybe I wouldn’t have met you. If that’s the case, I wouldn’t change the past for anything.”
My chest squeezed with so much love for this man. Like a cat, Ryan slowly slunk toward me, covering my body with his own until we were face-to-face.
“I will not let anyone hurt you again. Do you understand?” he said just as smoothly as the way he crawled up my body.
Words left me, so all I could do in response was nod. He pressed those very soft lips to mine, and I was in heaven. My eyes fluttered shut; it felt like an angel had taken over my body and my soul. The kiss started off innocent, light pecks and nibbles. Something inside of me began to shift when I realized I needed more—a lot more. When he went to press another light kiss on my lips, I took his head in my hands and kissed him with a force and intensity that he soon matched with his own. Ryan deepened the kiss and opened his lips to let my tongue twirl with his.