Jon From High School

by Jeremy Jenkins

  “Uh, sorry to break it to you Captain America, but women don’t hang around guys that look like you if they think there’s a slice on the table—”

  “She knows,” I said. I closed my eyes and remembered that night under the staircase, in college, when I told her. How accepting she’d been. How she hadn’t told anyone.

  She reminded me of Victor; how she kept my secrets.

  It made me miss him more than anything. But I started to question if I really missed him, or if I’d just taken the memories of all the sloppy (on my part) hookups we’d shared, and whipped them up into something they never were. Maybe I was imagining the thing between me and Victor as some kind of monstrous cupid, stabbing me through the heart.

  Maybe I’d just been alone so long that I held onto the preserved amber of our past, marveling at its beauty. But at the center, there was nothing but an insect; a feeble little animal that could be killed with tree sap.

  Were we really ever that fragile? I’d like to think what we had was real.

  Then I looked into Victor’s dark blue eyes—sharp eyes, and I felt that same old connection again.

  “So you’re still in the closet,” Victor said, furrowing his brow. “Jon, have you… have you been in the closet this whole time? Have you been with anyone… since me?”

  This time, it was a look of pity he gave me.

  “No,” I said. “And I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s not important that you do. I’m telling the truth. And I didn’t bring you here to catch up, exactly. I guess I brought you here so I could attempt to apologize.”

  “It’s gonna take more than a beer,” he said, taking a sip. “Do you know how long I agonized over you? How many nights I spent, listening to Fall Out Boy, unraveling the lyrics and unable to tear them away from everything we were?”

  Silence stretched between us. Then,

  “What were we, exactly?” I asked.

  The silence lengthened. “I… I honestly don’t know.” He turned to me, piercing me with his dark blue eyes. “But it was something. We can at least agree on that.”

  I nodded, resigned. I owed him that much. I wasn’t going to be a total douche and gaslight him, like I’d done to him so many times in high school.

  We had something. It was real. Then it was over.

  “Listen—I know it doesn’t matter now. I know we can’t get time back or anything. But I need to tell you what happened that night.”

  “The night of your basketball game?”

  “Yeah. I was looking for you in the stands.”

  He bit his lip.

  God, I still wanted to kiss that lip. I wanted to make sure that connection we shared was still there. It was the only thing real in my life. Everything else was brittle sand stuck to the hard edges of everything we were.

  Surface-level. Everything in the past ten years had been surface-level.

  I’d gotten everything I wanted.

  But it all felt so empty compared to what me and Victor had. Everything we were having.

  And wasn’t that worth putting my ego on the line for?

  So I told him. I told Victor all about what happened that night: How Martin threatened me with that picture and shoved me in the closet.

  Victor’s mouth came open.

  Under the bar, his hand went to mine.

  “Jon, I’m… I’m so sorry—”

  “I pulled my hand away. I don’t need your pity. I just need you to understand. It was nothing you did that drove a wedge between us.”

  Victor looked at his beer again, as if the answers might be at the bottom of the glass.

  I wasn’t done telling my IPA what happened. “I was taking my sweet time warming up to you, I know. I was a dumb kid. Egotistical. I was an asshole. But you? You were the bright spot in my day, Victor.”

  “You bullied me,” he pointed out. “You did your best to make my high school experience a living hell. At least until—”

  “Until that night after practice.”

  He turned toward me and propped his head on his arm, like a kickstand. “That’s something that’s always bothered me. I never knew why you came onto me in the first place. After all the name-calling, and the shoving me against lockers, and all the rumors you spread. Why did you kiss me?”

  I waited a long time to answer. Then, finally, I looked him straight in the eye and told him the truth:

  “Because I couldn’t not kiss you anymore.

  It was dark in the bar, but I could see his cheeks pink.

  I still wanted to kiss him.

  Even though under normal circumstances, I would have been horrified—horrified—at the notion of kissing a guy in a public place, now that I was face-to-face with Victor, none of that seemed to matter.

  Victor was the only thing that mattered.

  His eyes flickered from mine to my lips, then back again.

  His face was getting closer… closer…

  Something inside me was screaming that I was gay.

  I told it to shut the fuck up, then my lips landed on his.

  Home. Kissing him felt like home.

  It was the same as all those years ago. A rush of truth and validation and wondrous freedom flooded through me that I’d never felt before.

  I hadn’t been with anyone else since Victor. The most I’d done in college was kiss girls when I was drunk, to dispel any rumors about my supposed homosexuality.

  It wasn’t fair for dudes. If you went too long without a public relationship, everyone thought you were gay.

  Victor pulled away, his eyes fluttered closed, savoring the kiss.

  I could tell I wasn’t the only one re-experiencing this divine connection.

  If anything, it gave me confirmation that everything we had…

  It wasn’t tarnished by the passage of time into a brilliant blue patina.

  It was as real then as it was now.

  Then he said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “We both needed it,” I said, my voice going low. “We needed to see if it was still…”

  “If it was still real,” he said.

  His expression softened, but his eyes stayed hard.

  It was at that moment that I knew.

  I knew what I needed to do in order to get him back.

  In order to unlock the door to the rest of my life: the door that led to happiness instead of all of this fake shit.

  Because every time I chose something that wasn’t Victor, I was making the wrong choice.

  His hotel room.

  Lights off.

  No sound but the rustling as we took our clothes off.

  There were no words; only an imbalance in the air.

  We both knew an exchange had to take place.

  Things needed to be put right again.

  The way they should have been.

  My mind threatened to fray, to spike off and think past this one night, but Victor was too overwhelming. He demanded all of my attention, and I was here to give it to him.

  He unbuttoned my shirt, hurriedly.

  I peeled his shirt off of him, and marveled at how his body had changed since high school. He was no longer the lanky twig he used to be with the skinny, pale torso.

  He had abs. I could see the buttons of them in the moonlight, flexing under his skin.

  I saw guys’ abs all the time. I still played basketball occasionally, and spent a good amount of my time in the locker rooms at gyms. But none of those guys, no matter how ‘perfect’ their bodies were, ever did it for me.

  The only one that ever got me going, for some reason, was Victor’s.

  And now, oh my god, I was going.

  My cock was fighting against my jeans, begging to be released.

  Begging for release.

  I hurriedly fumbled at my button, but he rested a hand on mine.

  “No. Slow.”

  I met his gaze, and understood that this was more than just a quick hookup.

  This was sacred. This was holy.


  I needed to worship him—the bed was the altar.

  And dammit, I was still resistant to it on my outer layers, but inside, I knew it had to be done. It was the only way to say I was sorry.

  I couldn’t express it with words, but I could express it physically.

  So I made a commitment right then and there to do the best job I could to satisfy him; to show him how much I’d been secretly thinking about him for the past decade.

  Victor’s lips came to mine again, gently pressing his tongue into my mouth.

  I moaned, feeling him enter me.

  Then he moved his hands slowly down my sides, gliding along my muscles with a new confidence.

  It was only then that it occurred to me that even though I hadn’t had any partners since high school, Victor had probably dozens. Hundreds. Hell, he was a rockstar. He probably had hot ass thrown at him left and right.

  Miraculously, that didn’t fill me with jealousy. It filled me with… with…

  Somehow, it filled me with even more reverence for him.

  Kissing him now… it just made sense. It made sense in the way I was always trying to make sense of things. And though he’d evolved and grown as a person, I was still drawn to the core of who he was.

  He was good.

  Victor Petoskey… he was a good person.

  Shit, he might’ve been the best person I’d met in my entire life.

  He pulled away from the kiss and his eyes flickered up to mine.

  There was so much deepness in them that it scared me.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.

  I could feel a molten ball of hot tears well up behind my eyes, my sinuses, and threaten to pour out of my face.

  I felt understood. And for the first time in my life, I felt safe feeling understood, too.

  I’d never felt so close to someone. Maybe I was just a lonely, desperate bastard by now, obsessed with the ghosts of my past.

  But there was something there, dammit. There was that thing in his eyes I’d never been able to let go of—

  His crotched rubbed against mine.

  Oh, right. And there was that, too.

  His ridiculously huge, elephantine cock.

  Back in high school, seeing it the first time scared me. I had no idea I’d be up against something so… so formidable. But the way Victor handled it was so caring; so compassionate.

  “You don’t have to touch me,” he’d said.

  But oh, I wanted to touch him. I’d wanted to touch him every day we’d been apart. Every day I’d been trapped in the closet.

  I realized now, with his hard ridge rubbing against mine, that it wasn’t Martin that locked me in the closet all those years ago.

  It was me. And I’d been blaming Martin all this time for not going after what I wanted. It was because I was a coward; nothing more.

  But now, in the face of something so vast and deep like this, I wanted to burn everything in my life to the ground and dance on the ashes.

  It was all just a house made of straw, anyway.

  We rubbed our cocks together like that, making out near the window.

  It was open.

  I didn’t care.

  I loved the way the moonlight kissed his skin.

  I ran my fingers through his hair.

  The silky locks separated for me this time.

  I chuckled.

  “What?” he asked playfully.

  I pulled away from the kiss and lowered my hands to the curve of his low back. “Just thinking of how your hair used to be.”

  He blinked a few times, trying to remember, then chuckled. “Oh, that? I never thought that was gonna go out of style.”

  I smiled at that.

  I didn’t know what it was. If it was the stupid comment, or the joy of being in his presence, or knowing that I could be myself here, in this dark room with him.

  But I felt more happiness I’d felt in my entire life.

  “I’m so addicted…” I whispered, diving back down to kiss him again. “I can’t get enough….”

  I felt something hot and wet on my face.

  Was he crying?

  Maybe he was. But it didn’t feel wrong.

  It felt right. Everything about this moment felt right.

  Everything about Victor felt right.

  He was the only thing that had ever felt right.

  His ridge rubbed against mine again.

  An erotic shudder passed through me and I stiffened even more.

  He kissed along the column of my neck.

  Oh fuck, I forgot how good that felt. Little footprints of electricity zapped through me.

  My cock needed to come out of my pants. It was aching.

  Aching for him.

  I didn’t know if I was top or bottom. Sure, I’d watched enough gay porn to know the difference. Hell, if anyone could see my browser history, they’d know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was gayer than a three dollar bill.

  But still, I didn’t know.

  I couldn’t know. Victor had been the only one.

  And I was willing to mess around a bit, but taking it up the ass? That was still something that felt… it felt too foreign to me.

  Victor pressed his huge ridge against mine again.

  Dammit, I wanted that cock. I wanted to mess around with it.

  I wanted to make everything up to him.

  So I sank to my knees and pulled down his waistband.

  “There’s no rush,” he said softly. “We’ve got all night.”

  I looked up at him and said, “I want it now.”

  Victor’s face formed into a devious smile, and I could tell he was fighting it. He was trying to make everything last.

  Well, I’d waited an entire fucking decade for him. Excuse me if I wanted to speed things the fuck up.

  I tugged his waistband down and revealed that monster cock of his.

  God, it looked just like I’d remembered.

  I’d never been able to find something like this since. Not in porn, not anywhere.

  I wrapped my fingers around it, preparing to suck it. “I don’t know why you’re not a porn star with this thing,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I’m better. I’m a rock star.”

  I narrowed my eyes at his egoism, but I knew it was all just for fun.

  I knew that Victor was a rock star. I knew he had a huge cock.

  But I also knew he was a kind, caring, compassionate, generous person, who once followed his high school bully into a bathroom to offer him a bandaid.

  I licked the tip.

  Victor moaned and leaned against the wall.

  I took him into my mouth, having to open my lips all the way to let his massive velvety head inside.

  “Oh, yeah…” he hissed.

  I felt his fingers run through my hair as I swiveled my tongue around his velvety tip.

  He moaned and tipped his head back.

  I reached down, untucked my cock, and started jerking myself off.

  “Oh yeah, keep doing that, it’s so hot…” Victor said.

  I obeyed. It was easy.

  I took his tip into my mouth, nearly choking on his girth.

  To Victor’s credit, he didn’t push. He didn’t try to force himself in my mouth, like I knew I would’ve.

  He just let it happen. He let me set the pace.

  I swiveled my tongue around his tip some more and heard him moan.

  I looked up at his face.

  All I could see were abs gleaming in the moonlight, and that muscley v-line pointing to his crotch.

  God, he was ripped. How much did this guy work out, anyway?

  His hand went through my hair again as I slurped his cock.

  I was inexperienced still, but Victor didn’t seem to mind.

  Fuck, I was salivating for him. My spit dribbled out the corners of my mouth and dripped on the floor.

  Victor let out a hissing breath.

  I was careful not to use any teeth. I didn’t want to fu
ck up like last time.

  “Yeah…” he said, tipping his head back.

  I loved the way the cords in his neck flexed when he did that.

  And I kept jerking myself off.

  Then, Victor said, “Stop, stop.”

  I pulled his massive tip out of my mouth and looked up at him.

  Had I done something wrong? Did I screw everything up?

  But his eyes didn’t say I’d made a mistake.

  His eyes said he wanted to take this further.

  “Bedroom,” he said.

  That two-syllable word told me it was time.

  Hell, it had been time. This was long overdue.

  Wordlessly, I rose to my feet, only vaguely aware that I was completely naked.

  Victor smiled, his teeth shining brightly in the darkness, took my hand, and led me through the threshold and into the bedroom.

  11

  Victor

  The whole thing felt like a dream.

  Things didn’t happen like this. Things like my entire teenage entanglement with Jon Preston didn’t ever have a resolution. I’d made peace with that a long time ago.

  But now? Now I was leading the blond Superman into my hotel room, to my bed. My brain said none of this was real, that I would wake up soon.

  Might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

  We tumbled onto the bed, falling through this land of sheets and softness and clean, blank slates.

  For a moment, flashes of doubt made themselves known.

  Had Jon ever done this before? He said he hadn’t been with anyone since me in high school. I didn’t want to hurt him.

  Maybe I would keep my cock to myself until next time.

  But I didn’t know if there was going to be a next time. Since Jon was still closeted, he could withdraw back into his private space and leave me wanting more.

  I wouldn’t do that again. I couldn’t go another ten years thinking about him.

  It had to be tonight.

  We rolled across the endless landscape of sheets, and I ended up on top.

  I was always supposed to be on top.

  I loved it, too. Looking down at him with that helpless look in his eyes.

  My cock was hard for him, and leaking from the tip.

  It felt so good to be in his mouth—even if it was obvious he was still inexperienced. But there was something so hot about that. The way he clumsily took my cock, the way he wanted so desperately to please me. I could see that much in his eyes.