by Dirk Hunter
My bed wasn’t nearly as big as Kai’s, and I only had the one blanket, so Adam and I were nestled in pretty close. Our arms were touching, and I realized I was tensing, waiting for some reaction. Adam didn’t comment on it, though, which surprised me. I couldn’t help but think of Kai who, even with all we’d done together lately, would probably have taken me up on my offer to have the bed to himself. Carefully, I relaxed, letting more of our bodies — a hip, a leg — come into contact.
“Dylan?”
“What’s up?”
“I —” His voice cracked, and I realized he was holding back tears.
He cleared his throat. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Never mind.”
I waited a bit to see if he would continue. “It’s okay to cry,” I said when he didn’t.
“That’s not what my dad would say,” he muttered. “Tears are for queers.” He sounded bitter.
I fought back the urge to argue, remembering the intensity in Adam’s voice that first night we had hung out. I need you to know he’s a good dad. Instead, I reached under the blanket, found Adam’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. I meant it to be quick, comforting. But to my surprise, Adam clung on tightly and didn’t let go. Eventually I fell asleep, our fingers still intertwined.
THIS WAS becoming a habit of mine, needing a minute after waking up to figure out what was going on. I had been dreaming I was a giant teddy bear, and now that I was awake, I couldn’t shake the feeling I still was.
For starters, I was really very cozy, which I had always imagined was a near-constant state for teddy bears. Then there was, of course, the arms that enfolded me, holding me against a broad, muscular chest, and the face I could feel almost nuzzled in my hair. I felt squeezed, snuggled. Exactly like a giant teddy bear.
That’s Adam, I realized. Last night came back to me in a flash. Poor guy. He did just need a hug. I really had to pee, but I didn’t want to move.
For one thing, I was comfortable — it felt nice to be held. For another, I didn’t want to wake Adam. For a number of reasons. He’d obviously had a rough night and could use a good night’s sleep. But perhaps more pressing, I was a little worried about what would happen if he woke up and realized what position we were in. By morning he could let me go and wake up without feeling like his masculinity, or whatever, had been compromised. At the very least, I could let him think he woke up first, that I never noticed, and he could save face that way.
I checked the clock on my bedside table: 2:00 a.m. There was no way my bladder was going to be denied that long. Slowly, gently, I started to lift myself out of bed.
Immediately, Adam’s arms tightened, pulling me back to him.
“Adam,” I whispered, patting his arm lightly. “I have to get up.” He only tightened his grip in response. I could tell by his breathing he was definitely awake. His slow, steady breaths had turned rapid, even worried.
Like he’d woken from one nightmare into another. What was he afraid of?
That I would leave maybe? I mean, it made some sense: his dad had left for weeks, apparently had come back just to beat him again; his mom was in the hospital, and he was probably afraid she’d soon be gone for good. It seemed a little silly — this was my room, after all; where, exactly, would I go? — but I had woken from bad dreams unable to shake them too many times myself. I knew how irrational one could be in that situation.
“I’m just heading to the bathroom.”
Still no response.
I sighed, annoyed. “Would you feel better if you came with?” I felt him nod after only a brief hesitation, and he released me. I took him by the hand and led him down the darkened hall to the bathroom, careful not to make too much noise. My parents’ room was upstairs, so there wasn’t much of a chance of waking them, but there was always the possibility one of them had gone to the kitchen for a drink of water, or escaped to the couch to avoid the other’s snores. I closed the bathroom door silently behind us before turning on the light.
Adam leaned against the sink while I used the toilet. His arms were wrapped around his chest, probably self-conscious of the bruises now that the lights were on. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. He looked sheepish standing there, and I almost laughed. It was like he had finally woken up enough to feel embarrassed about not letting me out of his sight.
He peeked at me from the corner of his eye, saw me looking, and immediately averted his eyes. When I went to wash my hands, I caught him staring at me in the mirror, but if he noticed, he didn’t give any sign.
I led him back to my room. This time he took my hand, which I thought was a little odd; he should already know the way back to my room, even in the dark, and by now he had to be fully awake. But I didn’t say anything. We crawled back into bed. I rolled over onto my side, turning my back to him, expecting him to do the same. After all, he had to feel a little awkward about all this, right? I certainly did. But he didn’t.
Instead, he wrapped his arms back around me, once again holding me to him. Okay, now I started to feel a little bit weird about this whole thing.
For the first time, I thought that maybe this hadn’t been some middream teddy-bear grab. Maybe it had been deliberate, even the first time. But why? Was he in that much need of comfort? And if so, should I be doing something? I had no idea. What — hold him? Have him talk about his feelings? Was there something he wanted from me?
A sinking feeling suddenly landed in my gut. What if this was all some elaborate prank? It hardly seemed possible after all Adam and I had gone through, the hours spent together, opening up. But then, I’d gone through some pretty elaborate routines myself to make him look a fool.
What if he was doing the same to me? But if so, what was his endgame?
How was this supposed to play out? What was pretending to bare his soul to me and holding me close at night supposed to accomplish? Unless….
Right then, Adam’s hand moved slightly across my chest. He brushed my nipple lightly with his thumb. A jolt of electricity shot through my spine at the contact. At first I was too stunned to think. Maybe it had been accidental? But then, a moment later, he did it again. This time he took a little more time, ran his thumb around my nipple, feeling it harden.
For a second I felt the tingling feeling of arousal.
But then I got mad. I was suddenly certain all of this was a trick, some fucked-up, elaborate gaybaiting that would probably lead to him humiliating me in front of the entire school. I spun around in the bed to face him, to tell him off and stop this fiasco. A thousand and one mean things to say rose within me, but all of them died on my tongue when I saw his face.
The ambient glow of the electronics in my room glinted off his tearstained cheeks. I had no idea how long he had been crying silently, but his entire face was moist. The hand I had raised to push him away from me instead found its way to his cheek. I brushed away tears with my thumb. In his eyes I saw a confused tangle of emotions, each one seeming to struggle for dominance.
“He said it was my fault Dad left. Said if I wasn’t the way I was, Dad would still be there. Then he punched me, over and over.” Adam started to sob, his words broken up by gasping breaths. “But doesn’t he know how hard I’ve tried…? My whole life I’ve tried…. I’ve never done… anything… but I’ve always wanted… to….” With visible effort, Adam pulled himself together, brought his breathing under control. “But it hasn’t done any good. Nothing has changed. And I’m so tired of never having what I want, of living every day in pain when nothing even comes of it. I’m done pretending I don’t want it. I can’t. I want… I want….”
“What, Adam? What do you want?”
I felt Adam’s arms tighten around me, pulling me closer until our whole bodies were touching, his face only a fraction of an inch from me.
“You,” he whispered. And then he was kissing me.
An instant of surprise, but then my body took over. My mouth opened, and his tongue darted in. The kiss continued, deepening, becoming more and more passionate. In secon
ds he was on top of me, his weight pushing me deep into the bed, his cock rubbing against mine through the fabric of our pajama pants. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling the strong muscles of his shoulders ripple as he moved. I traced the muscles down his back until I found the elastic waistband of his pants and slipped my hands inside, grabbing the firmness of his ass and squeezing.
He moaned into my mouth. Longing to feel more of his body against mine, I pulled his pants down below his ass.
Suddenly there was one less layer of fabric between us. Freed from the confines of his underwear, I could feel the heavy weight of his balls on my leg, the warmth of the head of his cock as it pushed past my pajama pants and onto my abs. He broke away from the kiss, sitting up on his knees long enough to tug off my own pants and boxers with such intensity I could hear them rip. Then he was back on top of me, kissing me with renewed energy and thrusting his hips against mine.
This was different from anything that had happened with Kai. It was slower, more passionate. As our bodies rubbed against each other, our hands explored every inch. This wasn’t about pleasure, though there was plenty of that — it was about a need I could tell we both felt, a need to press ourselves together so tightly we might just become one.
I have no idea how long this lasted. It could have been hours. Time had lost all meaning; everything faded into the taste of Adam’s mouth and the feel of his body. But eventually things started going faster, becoming more frenzied. Our breath came in sharper, more ragged gasps between kisses as we both climbed together toward climax. And when it happened and our cum mingled together with the sweat on our pressed-together bodies, he didn’t stop kissing me. The kisses became softer, more tender.
The need had passed, but the desire remained. And when even that was done, we lay side by side, legs entwined and foreheads pressed together.
He stared deep into my eyes, playing idly with my hair, and I traced designs on his bicep.
“You know,” Adam said, “I think this would be the perfect moment… if it weren’t for the feeling of cum slowly drying on my stomach.”
I laughed. Without breaking out of Adam’s grip, I kicked my pants off my ankles, where they had been bunched since Adam had pulled them down. I grabbed them and used them to wipe myself clean. Then I started on Adam, beginning at his chest and working my way slowly down until finally I got to his cock. I abandoned my makeshift towel. I wanted to hold Adam in my hand.
Even flaccid, his dick was huge, long and fat. Wrapping my fingers around his shaft, I felt it jump a little in response, which made me smile.
Adam’s eyes continued to bore into mine. His breath began to grow thick and heavy. I started to stroke, slowly, delighting in the sensation of his soft cock in my hand, feeling it begin to grow hard again. I reached my other hand down to cup his balls, which hung low, draped over his thigh. I felt his hand move down my side to my hip, but there it hesitated. I grabbed his wrist and brought it farther, until it rested on my cock. As if emboldened by my permission, his hand began to explore my junk, massaging my balls, pulling on my hardening shaft, swirling the precum around the head of my cock with his thumb. Throughout it all, we never broke eye contact.
This time I used Adam’s pajama pants to clean us off before casting those too on the floor.
By then, I was exhausted. I felt Adam lightly kiss my eyelids. I hadn’t realized my eyes had closed. I snuggled in closer to his chest, breathing the mingled smell of sweat, cum, and pure Adam. I realized I had this feeling, deep in my gut. But unlike the ache I had felt with Kai, this was different. It was warm.
I fell asleep with a smile on my lips, cradled in Adam’s arms.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I AWOKE to the sensation of soft kisses on my collarbone.
“Good morning,” Adam whispered in my ear. I could feel his morning wood pressed against my back.
“We’re spooning!”
“Uh, yeah.” Adam chuckled. “Obviously.”
“No,” I said, “I mean I just realized. Last night when I woke up, I thought… I don’t know, really. That you had accidentally grabbed me in your sleep, or something, for some strange reason. But it was intentional. You were spooning me.” I smacked my forehead. “Oh man, and the whole ‘we can share the bed’ bit! How did I not see through that? Last night is starting to make a lot more sense.”
“You really didn’t know? I thought you were teasing me.”
I laughed. “No idea.”
“I thought you knew. I’m always afraid everyone knows. That they can tell I’m….” He trailed off.
I turned so I could look at him. “It’s okay,” I said. “You can say it.”
Knock knock knock. My room rang with the sound. Someone was at the door.
Adam’s eyes grew wide, his mouth agape. “What?” I called, doing my best to make my voice sound like I had been woken up.
“Wakey wakey,” my dad’s voice came through the door. “Can I come in?”
I groaned loudly, a superb impersonation of it’s-Saturday-let-me-sleep-in, if I do say so myself. “Let me put on pants.” I said, crawling out of bed and searching around for something to throw on. Adam clutched the blankets to him and slid off the bed, falling to the floor with barely a thump. He rolled under the bed.
I found a pair of sweatpants, plastered a sleep-befuddled expression on my face, and pulled my door open.
Dad stood there, arms crossed, amused expression on his face.
“Since when do you lock your door?” he asked.
“Since I started sleeping naked.”
“Since when do you sleep naked?”
“Since you started turning the thermostat up to, like, ninety.” Even I was a little impressed with my nonchalance, the ease of my answers.
“Uh-huh. I see.” Was that a smirk on my dad’s face? What did he find so funny? “Well, Mom’s making waffles. Would you like any?”
“No, thanks. I think I’m going back to sleep.”
“How about your friend? Would he care for any waffles?”
For a second, I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my face.
At the very least my jaw was bound to fall out of its socket and hit the floor any minute now.
The silence stretched on until finally, in a teeny tiny voice, Adam said, “No, thanks, Mr. O’Connor.”
The breath I didn’t realize I had been holding burst out of me in a rush. “How did you know?” I asked my dad.
“I can see him under the bed. You kids should really learn how perspective works. Line of sight and whatnot. Besides, he parked his car in the driveway. Not the masters of stealth, you guys.”
I heard my mother’s voice drifting down the hall from the kitchen.
“Ask him who it is!”
“Your mother wants to know who it is. She thinks it’s that boy you played soccer with back in the sixth grade. What was his name?”
“It’s not Tommy. She thinks —” I raised my voice, yelling down the hall, “You thought Tommy was gay?”
“That boy was way too pretty to be straight,” she called back.
“For the record,” my dad interjected dryly, “I don’t believe that’s how it works.”
“I — wait. You’re not mad?”
“You know, I’ve put a lot of thought into this over the years,” Dad said. “Wut?”
“The big reason,” Dad continued, “why I’m supposed to be mad here is ’cause if you got some girl pregnant this young, you’re almost guaranteed to ruin at least one life. But the whole gay thing kind of upended that logic. So really, the only real reason I can come up with to be upset here — and trust me, I have tried — is that, honestly, all this makes me feel old. Like really, really old. And that’s not much of a reason, it seems to me. Besides, there’s only so much parental hypocrisy I can handle. The veggies were one thing; this is an entirely different story.”
Mom appeared at the end of the hall, stirring a bowl of waffle batter.
“Yeah, your father was a real
slut in high school. Like you would not believe.”
Dad’s grin turned wicked. “Your mother, on the other hand, didn’t become a slut until college. It’s amazing how many dicks I had to pull out of her before I could convince her to go out with me. At one point she was even knee-deep in pussy.” Mom threw the whisk at him, which only made him laugh. They began arguing — loudly, I might add — about whose sexual adventures had been the most embarrassing.
“Gross.” I closed the door to my room, shutting them out.
This was, for better or for worse, the parents I was stuck with. The two things they seemed to like best in this world were trying to one-up each other and laughing at my discomfort. Put those things together and, viola, you have one of their patented TMI fests. I actually still wonder sometimes how much of what they told me was even true, and how much was just extravagant lies for their own amusement. God knows half of what I say falls into the latter category.
Dad called through the door. “Let us know when your mystery man is ready to leave. We can all look the other way while he pretends to sneak out through the window.” Mom laughed. “I could even burst in with a shotgun, shouting about despoiling my little girl.” Mom was no longer laughing. No, by then it was definitely a cackle.
“Oh man,” I said, turning back toward my bed. “I can’t believe that just happened.” Adam didn’t respond. In fact, I couldn’t even see Adam.
He hadn’t gotten up off the floor. I walked around to the other side of my bed and found him, lying still half under the bed with a look of sheer panic on his face.
Oh fuck, I thought. And he had just been telling me how scared he was of being found out. My parents: perfect timing as usual.
I fell to the floor and cradled Adam’s head in my lap. “It’s okay,” I said. “They don’t know it was you. No one will find out. I promise. You don’t have to be afraid.”
He smiled weakly. “I know. That was just… a little too sudden. I’m all right. Really.”