Candy Boys

by Raven, Jo

  He lets me do my thing. I set up the table in front of the TV, place the stack of pancakes, the syrup and bacon and cold beers, and he sinks down beside me on the couch.

  We stuff ourselves with the food, and I put on the first Matrix movie, because it’s something light. We pull some Neo combat moves at each other, snickering like mad, and Jet offers me a piece of bacon and asks me if I want the truth or if I want to keep living in an illusion.

  It should be funny, but for some reason it’s not.

  We finish the movie in silence, and I pick up the dishes to carry them to the kitchen.

  “Hey, J.”

  I turn around, balancing the dishes and beer bottles. “What?”

  “Thanks. For this.” He waves a hand at what I’m carrying. “I know I’m a pain in the ass and I own it, but—”

  “Shut up,” I say gruffly. “You’re not. I was dicking around.”

  He gives me a half-smile and shrugs. “I’ll do the dishes.”

  “Now I’m worried. Maybe you hit your head too hard.”

  “Haha. Dick.”

  “Jackass.”

  He follows me into the kitchen, leans against the counter. His hair is wild, sticking up in every direction, and I reach out and ruffle it without thinking.

  Jet’s mouth opens, closes.

  I snatch back my hand.

  Uh. “So you need help with something?”

  I’m sure I’ve ruffled his hair before. I must have. Once or twice. We’re friends. Friends touch, even when they’re guys. So why does it feel different all of a sudden?

  “Yeah.” He rakes one hand through his hair, and I watch his fingers disappear in the wild, black tangle, my mouth suddenly dry. “I need to write a resume. If I’m gonna be looking for a different kind of job.”

  I lick my lips. “No prob. I can help you with that. Any specific kind of job in mind?”

  “A store. I guess?”

  A shop sounds good. Safer than a bar. Better hours. “Awesome, dude. Let me finish up here and you can show me what you got?”

  “Sure you can handle it?” He arches a brow, and again I’m staring at him, this time having a what-the-fuck moment.

  He saunters out of the kitchen, and I’m still staring after him, unsure as to what just happened.

  ***

  “You sure you wanna put that bit in?” I ask him after three hours of tweaking his resume. Guy has lots of work experience, only it’s scattered all over the place, and most places probably won’t even care enough to answer if he asks for a reference.

  “Yep.”

  “Fine.” I click save on the document and frown at it. “Hey, you didn’t put any education. You didn’t go to college, but you could mention our high school.”

  “Dude…” Jet pushes his chair back and wanders toward the window, shoving both hands in his hair. He’s a dark silhouette against the fading light.

  “What?”

  He’s now rubbing the back of his head, biceps bulging in his arms. Good to see all that wrestling and working out at the gym paid off. He’s such a strong guy, but right now his back is bowed forward, and he won’t look at me.

  What am I missing? “Was it so bad?”

  He laughs, a dry sound. “You don’t know, do you? Guess I never told you. I never officially finished school.”

  I stand up, too, my mouth hanging open. “Son of a bitch. All these years we’ve been hanging out, and living together, for chrissakes, you didn’t think to tell me this? Are you serious right now?”

  I just assumed things. That summer I was so wrapped up in sports I barely saw him anyway.

  “What does it matter?” he snarls, and shit, he’s so angry his eyes burn like dark flames. “Told you there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “Like what?” I challenge him.

  He shakes his head and makes a beeline for the door. To run. To hide.

  From me.

  No fucking way. I block his path and grab his arm. He doesn’t fight it, which throws me off a bit, only lets his head drop forward until his chin hits his chest.

  “I’m studying,” he whispers. “To get my GED. So fuck off with your judgment.”

  “I’m not judging.”

  “Sure, you’re not. You—”

  I pull him to me and give him a one-armed hug. “Get that GED. It will open more doors. You’re a bright guy, Jet Jackasson.”

  I mean it.

  He punches me in the arm and snorts. “Fuck off.”

  I let him go, change the topic.

  Slowly. One day at a time. I’m wearing him down, finding out more and more about him. But one thing is for certain, and always was:

  Jethro is my bro, and I’ve got his back, always.

  ***

  Jethro and I have been friends for the past four years—since my last year at high school. He was the new kid on the block, quiet and sullen. I was the rising track star athlete, president of my class, surrounded by friends.

  Not real friends, though. And he was the real thing. Genuine. Trustworthy. Not kissing my ass like everyone else, but looking for something true to say. To connect. And we did—over martial arts and video games, talks about chicks, violent Japanese comics and historical battles.

  But above all, he stood by me when everyone else didn’t. When nobody could. When nobody else understood. He never turned his back. And I’ll never forget it, though he never opened up to me, even after that. Even after all these years.

  There’s a mystery about him. There always has been. I’ve realized time after time how little I know about him. But he’s opening up, month after month, year after year.

  After what he’s been through in his life, what he hinted at about his past, I can understand he needs the time to trust again. I’ll be by his side when he does. I’ve been working on making him accept I’m not going anywhere since we met. He was very skittish then when it came to talking about himself. About what he needed, what he wanted. He’s much better now.

  And what do you want? a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind.

  Same as always. My best friend by my side, and a girl who gets me and turns me on in my arms. The latter is proving harder to find, but nerdy girl has given me hope.

  I’m hard every damn time I’m around her. Every time I imagine things I’d do to her, her cries of pleasure.

  Yeah, maybe this time it will work out.

  I still haven’t told Jet about this. Still not sure I fucking should. He’s a pretty laid back guy—I mean he knows all about what happened at college, things nobody else knows—but I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries and make things awkward. Don’t wanna jinx our friendship.

  So I’m at work, my mind working overtime—and I still haven’t heard from my boss about the incident in the copier room.

  Now every fucking time I go in there, I feel watched, and jumpy, and I keep my hands so far away from my crotch I keep hitting things. Broke a crystal clip jar this morning.

  I mean, who in their sane mind keeps crystal clip jars on their desks in this time and day, huh?

  Fuck, boss is staring at me again through the window. What the fuck does he want from my life?

  I grab the copies from the printer and hurry back to the office I share with two other guys—both BA majors, like me. Both bored with their lives and trying to hide it.

  I’m not feeling bored. I’m fucking pissed at the world, at my goddamn bad luck, at the boss for not calling me to get it over with, and at myself for being so paranoid.

  I pretend to be working, waiting for the boss to call and tell me to step into his office for a little talk. I read and reread the company policy book that I’m supposed to know by heart, my gaze rolling over the words, grasping nothing. I tidy up my desk, check my emails, start replying to one and then stop, realizing I have no clue what to say.

  I glare at my phone. Call already. Call me and get it over with.

  Nothing.

  It’s a war of nerves, I decide, and grit my teeth.
Is he waiting to see if I do it again? If I show any other signs of inappropriate behavior? Maybe some photographic evidence?

  I glance around uneasily, wondering if there are hidden cameras.

  If there is anything mentioned about the college incident in my personnel file.

  If the boss is waiting for a staff meeting to out me.

  If I get a reprimand and Jethro finds out about it, a reprimand of this nature, he’ll never talk to me ever again. Fucker.

  So when the boss finally calls me to his office in the early afternoon, I go in guns blazing.

  “Mr. Kingsley,” he greets me.

  “It’s a misunderstanding,” I reply, standing there, fists clenched, heart pounding. “It’s not true. All lies.”

  He looks confused. “Your name isn’t Kingsley?”

  “It is, as I’m sure you know.” Now he’s mocking me, on top of everything.

  I wait for him to tell me about the college scandal, and the copier room, but he just frowns at me. “Are you all right, Mr. Kingsley?”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” I say with a savage snarl and swing my ass into the chair across from his desk.

  Silence spreads. He’s observing me with a funny expression on his bearded face, something like amusement that pisses me off more.

  Damn this charade.

  “Did something happen that I should know about?” he eventually asks, steepling his fingers together on the desk.

  “Isn’t this about the copier room?”

  “And what happened in the copier room?”

  Fuck, is he gonna make me spell it out for him? “You saw me from the window.”

  “I see many things, Mr. Kingsley, but what is it you think I saw?”

  Shit, is he kidding me? “Why did you call me to your office?”

  “To talk to you about a new project that might interest you. A sports-related one.”

  “That sounds… great,” I say in a strangled voice. “Thank you, sir.” I clear my throat. “I’m all ears.”

  Holy shit. Holy goddamn shit.

  If paranoia doesn’t kill you, it sure fucks you five ways to Sunday.

  Chapter Six

  JETHRO

  I had no one. I wasn’t even sure I was sane anymore. I was alone against the world, and the world was full of teeth and claws and flashing knives.

  And then there was Joel.

  I can’t. Can’t do this anymore. Can’t fight it. It’s getting harder by the day.

  Harder in every sense.

  Fantasies don’t cut it anymore. I need the real thing. Need more. But that’s never gonna happen. Not the way I want it.

  Stripping, I step into the shower stall and turn on the water on warm. It rains down on me and I turn my face up, letting it run into my mouth. The ache between my legs is too insistent to ignore today, though, so I reach down and wrap my hand around my hard dick.

  Ah hell, yeah. I squeeze hard, my breath stuttering, and brace one hand against the wall as I work my hand up and down my length. This is good. Not nearly enough, but good nevertheless. I press my forehead to the tiles and close my eyes, imagining how it could be.

  The heat of a naked body behind me. Hands gripping my hips, my ass. A mouth around my dick, hot and tight.

  Damn. My hand is flying over my cock. Need to come. Have needed it for weeks, but my body isn’t co-operating. Which is why I gave in and made a strategic purchase, one that Joel almost discovered—

  Fuck, Joel.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, my balls suddenly tightening, my cock swelling more. Yeah, this, now, this—

  “Jet? You here—oh shit, sorry.”

  I look up. The door is open, Joel standing at the opening, his gaze fixed on my dick, his eyes wide…

  And I come with a strangled moan, splashing my cum on the tiled walls of the shower, my hips jerking.

  Holy shit.

  Spent, I slump against the wall, my deflating dick still held in one hand, unable to look away from my roommate and best friend who’s still gaping at me.

  Still dazed with pleasure, I grin at him and blink. “Like what you saw?”

  Of course he slams the door shut and takes off.

  Ah fuck.

  ***

  I’m pacing the living room like a trapped animal.

  My resume has been sent, but I’m not holding my breath. Just because I took the decision to expand my work horizons from dank, filthy bars to something else doesn’t mean I’m gonna get the position.

  In fact, I rather doubt they’ll want me based on my stupid resume, even if Joel helped me put it together.

  Damn. Joel.

  He hasn’t come back yet since the shower incident.

  And now I feel guilty, although I didn’t do it on purpose. Couldn’t help coming. I’d been on the brink anyway, and the way he looked at me…

  I kick at the sofa, shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, and go stand by the window. It’s dark outside, and the street lights and passing cars make the street below look festive, even though it’s an average, dirty street, on an average, dirty weekday.

  Where did he go? Should I call him?

  What should I say?

  Dammit, I knew something like this would flip him out. His family is totally conservative. Fucking nuts. I can imagine he feels like he betrayed his manhood just by looking, or something equally idiotic.

  I need to talk to him when he’s back, calm him down. Promise him he’s still straight as an arrow. That guys check each other’s dicks all the time.

  Thing is, I’m pretty sure we’d done so already back at school in the showers after PE, and at the gym in the changing rooms. He hadn’t freaked out then, so why now?

  Two possible explanations I can think of:

  One, the scandal at college fucked him up, though I don’t see any connection between that and what happened today.

  Two, I don’t know Joel as well as I thought. I mean, he’s an overconfident chick magnet, with no fucking doubts whatsoever about his sexuality, right? So what was that all about?

  Suddenly I remember him by the kitchen sink last night, telling me he needed my help with something, and I’m itching to know what it was.

  ***

  I’m floating in a half-formed dream involving Joel—who else?—and a horse. Not sure what the horse is supposed to be doing, but I’m sitting there with J, shooting the shit. We’re talking about our school days, and the bar fight I got into.

  He reaches over and touches the bruise on my face. I feel at ease with him.

  I’m also horny, and I can see that he is, too. His dick is hard inside his jogging pants, and he shifts uncomfortably on the sofa.

  “What we need,” I tell him, “is more.”

  “More what?” he replies, leaning back on the cushions, his hand moving down, toward the bulge at his crotch, and I swallow hard.

  Hard, so hard.

  “That.” I point at the horse, or rather where the horse used to be, but of course there now stands a girl with pretty, wavy, blond hair and lush curves. She’s naked, and the sight of her full tits and rounded hips makes my dick fucking weep with joy. “That girl.”

  That’s what we need. Who we need. She’s light, and darkness, and everything at once.

  But Joel sinks into the couch, shaking his head, sinking deeper and deeper in the cushions, until he disappears, and I wake up with a start, my heart pounding and my dick diamond hard.

  Fuck.

  ***

  A noise wakes me up. I’m lying sideways on the sofa, the TV playing some random program, my drawing pad and pencils making dents in my cheek. I blink at the sudden blinding light and throw up a hand in front of my eyes to protect them.

  “J?”

  Joel nods at me, opens the curtain further, letting in the morning light, then proceeds to yank the jacket I’d thrown over me off and stalk to his bedroom.

  Ow. Good morning to you, too.

  Wait, he spent the night out? As in, he didn’t fucking come
home at all?

  Whoa. That’s a frigging load of freak out for seeing your best friend’s dick, right? Granted, my dick was shooting cum at the time, and we were looking at each other, but it’s not like it was my fault he barged in. A guy should be allowed to jack off in the shower in peace.

  Not like Joel doesn’t do it. Not like I haven’t fucking heard him before—and jacked off quietly on the other side of the wall, listening.

  Anyway, he doesn’t know that, so what’s his deal? I’ve done my best to stay out of his hair.

  Throwing my legs off the couch, I rub my hands over my face trying to convince my brain to start firing again, and I get up.

  Fall back into the couch, rub my face some more.

  Then attempt the standing-upright thing again.

  It works this time around, and I take some stumbling steps toward the kitchen, when a hand pushes me back down on the couch—oof—and pushes a steaming mug of coffee under my nose.

  “Drink.”

  “Like Alice in fucking wonderland,” I mutter but take the mug and sip at it, scalding my tongue. Still, it’s black and loaded with sugar, the way I like it. “Will it make me shrink or grow?”

  My eyes are finally open, and they widen more when Joel sits down beside me, heat seeping into me from where our legs touch.

  Schooling my face into a scowl, I drink more coffee, not giving a shit if my tongue blisters. “Had a good night?”

  “Fucking awesome.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Who are you, my mom?”

  We sit in seething silence. Well, I sit in seething silence. Joel’s probably grinning inwardly. Bastard.

  Wait, he’s grinning outwardly, too.

  “What am I missing?” I grumble, narrowing my eyes at him.

  And finally take in his running shoes and outfit. The light bulb goes on in a flash.

  “You went running.”

  “You’re a fucking genius.”

  “So you stayed the night here?”

  “Where else would I stay, dumbass? On the street? Or with my parents?” He gives a slight shudder at the thought. “You never stirred when I came back inside. I swear I’ve never seen a guy in deeper sleep unless it was a coma. I even held a mirror in front of your mouth to make sure you were breathing.”