by Seth King
Finally I take a breath and just decide to let it out. He already knows, anyway – he felt it yesterday, too. There can be no denying what happened in that cafeteria. “Fine. I’ve had some things happen before. My whole life, actually: I remember always wanting to pick the female players on Mario Kart, I remember sometimes wanting pink toys instead of blue ones.”
“I see. You ran away from all that, because of what you believed in, or whatever.”
“You don’t have to be condescending to what I believe.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that at all…I just don’t see how, or why, you could let it dictate your whole life.”
“Well you’ve laughed at it multiple times. You think I’m a dumb hick. I get it.”
His face changes. “You’re totally wrong, you know.”
“What? How?”
“Nothing ever worked out for me. I lost faith in the world quickly. So for you to look out there and see beauty and grace and design…for you to have faith, I really admire that. Or, not just you, but anyone, actually.”
He needs to stop doing that, talking like that. He’s making me like him, and it’s making me feel all strange and fuzzy and woozy. And panicked, too. I can’t like him. I just can’t. We’ve already circled back around the trail, to the back yard of our campus. This can’t even continue any longer than it has today. It was already too much.
But his skin looks like butter, and his laugh sounds like heaven…
Suddenly our conversation is shattered. “Bro!”
I turn around to see Tanner Bates, probably my best friend at school. He looks from me over to Fabian, then back. This is the worst thing that could’ve happened, the absolute worst. And so I do the single worst thing I’ve ever done in my life: I turn my back to him, like he’s a bag of trash.
And this is the first betrayal.
“Hey. What’s up?”
Tanner and I start walking together. I feel like the worst person in the world, but I don’t know what else to do. Once Fabian is out of earshot I let my shoulders fall a bit, but I still feel awful. I already want to turn and apologize, actually. But I can’t. I have already let this world tell me who I am. I am Adam: servant of the Lord. There can be no turning back now. Right?
“Not much.”
“What were you doing, talking to the janitor kid?” he asks a little uneasily, glancing back. I swallow.
“Oh, um, I don’t know, he was asking about the…water fountain.”
“Weird. You know, I’ve heard things about him…”
My chest tightens. “What things?”
He mulls it over, then swallows his lip and lets it go. I don’t think he’s really let it go, though. Not at all. “Never mind. Hey, I’ve got a Lacrosse thing later, you should come…”
~
After the shameful public snubbing of Fabian, we don’t talk for a day. And then two days.
By the end of the second day, my mind is driving me crazy with questions. And self-hatred, too. I miss him. He doesn’t text, he doesn’t like any of my old social media posts. I feel dizzy and confused and distracted. Did I ruin it, that quickly? Was I just another meeting to him, just another drink with another person? He hasn’t been around, but then again, I’ve never looked for him. It’s not a small campus; maybe we’ve just never crossed paths before the other day.
No, that doesn’t sound right, because at times I’ve felt like I’ve felt him. I could almost sense him in the hall the second afternoon, but when I looked around the crowd was pretty thick and I couldn’t make him out from the rest of them. But that’s crazy, right?
On the second night I decide I offended him, and he’s mad at me. Great. Then I realize I’m engaging in fictional fights in my head with people I don’t even know, and I feel even crazier. I finally leave my house and hit the gym at campus, since it’s free and usually empty. It’s not the best, but it suits my needs for when I need to blow off some steam.
Working out, aside from being good for you, is the best thing I can do for my anxiety. It just makes a kind of white noise descend on my usually frantic brain, like a blanket of fluffy snow on a forest floor. I’ve just started doing my curls when the side door opens and the hair on my neck stands up. And that’s when I know he’s here. He’s in here. I just know it to my bones.
I hold my breath and turn around.
Fabian Blanco
“You know why you’re here, right?” Mr. Gio, the head of maintenance, said the other day in his office, after I’d received that scary little text. A professor from the school stood over his shoulder, just looming, for no real reason at all. “You. And a student. Together. Explain?”
I kept my eyes on a plaque over his shoulder, avoiding both of their eyes. “Um. The thing is…”
“Yes?”
“Well. There is nothing to explain, because it won’t happen again.”
My supervisor leaned forward. I didn’t know what he was insinuating with the look in his eye, but I didn’t want to mess with it. “Blanco. I went out on a limb to get you hired. Don’t make me regret it. Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then I left the room, but I knew the subject was not over. The look on that professor’s face said it.
I contemplated telling Adam about it for about two seconds before deciding against it. I knew it wasn’t fair, to have him keep talking to me while we were being watched like that. But what choice did I have? Actually, I hadn’t made the choice at all – fate had. My pulse had. His eyes had. The sky had…
And I did succeed in staying away from him – for a day, at least. Until that overpowering temptation drew me in again, and I was powerless to resist…
And then he abandoned me after twenty minutes and acted like he’d never even met me.
All that was on my mind for the next few days. I’m not going to lie – his rejection hurt. A lot. But it wasn’t the end of the world, as I’ve talked to enough closeted, or semi-closeted guys, to know exactly what it’s like to be with someone and know without a doubt that they are ashamed and embarrassed of your very presence. So I’ve decided to just push it out of my mind for now, and do my usual routine – my work and my workouts. Exercise is the only thing that helps me sleep soundly at night, and I’ve just headed into the campus gym – which is for both students and faculty, even though nobody’s ever in here – and smell something curious. Very curious.
It’s Adam.
And sure enough, it is him. I get that weird nervous, fluttery feeling around him that I’ve never gotten around anyone, and then I freeze. Oh, no. He looks delicious. He’s gotten a tan, and he’s in a black tank top that shows his surprisingly sizeable biceps. He’s not Arnold or anything, but the dude’s packing some heat. And his large shoes make me think he’s packing other kinds of things, too…things that are off-limits due to his religion…
Truth be told, the forbidden-ness of it all is just making me even crazier. If I can’t have it, if I can’t touch it, I want it ten times more. Sometimes, when I am falling asleep, I think I would walk the Earth for five free minutes with his body laid out across a bed. I mean, look at him now – he has that little hump in his shoulders that speaks of a strong back, his legs are thick and have a vein going down each calf, and something about him is so…naïve. So clueless. Maybe I could teach him how to please a guy in the right way…I’m sure he doesn’t even watch porn when he jerks off…he probably has no idea of what to do, the poor kid…
But then again, I’m supposed to be mad at him. So I nod a curtly, wave, and then head to the treadmill. I play Lady Gaga’s The Fame Monster on my headphones and start running. I glance back, as Alejandro begins, I notice he keeps glancing back at me in the mirror. Every time he does, my cheeks flush. Well, you know what? Great. He should be looking. He denied me the other day in broad daylight. He deserves a snubbing.
I really get into my jog, and then I do something unusual – I slide out of my shirt. I’m dripping with swear, so it can’t hurt, right? And okay, mayb
e I want him to see. When I glance back in the mirror, his eyes are large and he looks petrified. Poor guy. Maybe he shouldn’t have led me on and then walked away from me just as quickly. Maybe he deserves to see why I’ve modeled occasionally for some side cash. I don’t care about looks, but if I’ve got them, why not throw them in someone’s face who deserves it?
Gaga leads me on, on, on, and soon I’ve hit five miles. I love the way I feel after a good run, satiated and tired and…well, horny. But even more, I love the feeling of being watched. If I had a guy at home, I’d head there and ravage him right now.
But I’m not done yet. I walk over and take the machine right next to him without looking at him. As I start lifting the weights above my head, I slide my shorts up, up, up, and watch his eyes grow ten sizes. His shorts are dark, so I can’t see a bulge or anything, but I’m sure he’s hard. Good – he should be. It what he gets.
Finally he opens his mouth. Up close, he looks so beautiful it breaks my heart for a moment – his hair is curlier when he’s sweaty, and the sheen makes his face look bright and luminous. God, I don’t know whether I want to slap him or make out with him.
“So, um-” he says, but just like that I get up and head for the locker room.
“Great workout! See you later,” I call. Then I head for the showers, which are just a bunch of faucets in a large open area. If he has to see me, whatever. Let it happen. Maybe he won’t even come in. Maybe we won’t ever even speak to each other again…
I squirt some cheap body wash into my hand and then accidentally start rubbing my dick. I imagine that blonde hair is under me as he kneels there, worshipping me. I imagine rubbing my cock across his lips, so soft and pink…
And then I hear the door open.
His face appears through the mist. He stares at me like I’ve just run over someone’s pet.
“Shower?” I ask, not taking my hand off my cock, which although thick, is not immensely long. But I don’t care – I’ve never had any complaints. This thing hits every spot I need to hit, anyway.
For a moment my mind takes me back to that office, that confrontation where the professor told my boss I’d been hanging with students. But I don’t care about the danger right now. This thing is just too powerful. I feel it everywhere now.
“Um,” he squeaks, unable to talk.
“Yes?”
But he still can’t form words. “I, uh – steam room.”
And so he undresses behind the lockers and then disappears into the steam room across the space, his toned body hidden only by a towel.
I bite my lip as the water’s heat fades. Going in there would be the worst idea in the world, right? I’m an employee. He’s a student. Mixing is off-limits. So is the whole gay aspect, probably. And yet…there’s still no denying how bad I want it…
I hold my breath, turn off the water, and start for the steam room.
Adam Venus
My heart stops as the door opens and he appears through the steam – totally naked. All six feet of him. He pads across the floor, then sits opposite me on the step, his firm ass against the wood. And then he stares directly into my eyes.
I came in here for security. I didn’t know where else to go. His penis was just staring at me, huge and terrifying. I didn’t think he would follow. But, okay, I’m not too disappointed…just scared. This is so not allowed. If anyone comes in, my future is derailed. I can just see the headlines: Local Student Banned for Homosexual Activity in Seminary. My dad would disown me, my life would be over…
And yet, right now, the penis in front of me probably outweighs all of that. Maybe even literally.
“Hi?” I ask, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, to my horror, he keeps his eyes locked with mine and takes his penis in his hands. I stop breathing as he caresses the tip, touching parts of himself I’ve only seen in biblical-age paintings. My blood burns, my own penis grows, by pulse pounds in my ears. His back arches as he rubs a little harder, and his eyes become slits.
“Oh,” he moans, his shoulders sinking down the wooden wall a few inches. What is going on? And why is my hand migrating to my own penis, too?
We play a cat-and-mouse moment for a minute – him daring me to react, me dancing around admitting I know what’s going on. It makes me feel like my whole body has been lit on fire. I consider praying and asking for forgiveness, but then I decide I don’t even want God’s name in my head in a setting as unholy as this. I can be religious, and sensual, at the same time – right? No matter the gender?
…Right?
“Do it,” he murmurs. “Do it with me. No touching needed. Just watch.”
He takes his length with both hands, and for a moment I can’t believe what is happening. I’m watching a guy masturbate on my campus. This is so bad.
But it feels so good.
And so I do it, too. And the shepherd leads a flock of one.
I spread my legs just an inch and then barely move my towel apart in the front, showing him a glimpse. My heart thuds, my chest is tight. This is horrifying but I know I want it. His – well, for lack of a better word, his maleness, the overpowering energy radiating off him, is too much.
“Oh, fuck yes,” he moans. “Show me more.”
I move my towel an inch more.
“Oh, yeah. More.”
We keep this dance for a minute until my towel is fully off. And suddenly I am sitting naked in front of another male.
“Damn,” he says. “That cock is so nice. Stroke it for me. Please?”
I hesitate, then finally I say one last prayer for forgiveness and then wrap my hand around the end of my penis. I moan instantly, the sound unlike any I’ve ever made.
“But…what if someone comes in?”
“Stop,” he says. “Just feel it. Just let it in.”
I start rubbing with one hand, then two. With his eyes on me while I do this, and mine on his while he does the same, I’ve never felt so electrified. Life wasn’t life before this. It was just…existing.
“Come with me,” he breathes, his voice strained. I watch his muscles flex as he speaks, and my penis twitches. I didn’t even know I could do that.
“You mean…at the same time?”
“It can sync up, like girls and their cycles. Just keep your eyes on me and try to stay in tune. Watch me stroke this cock, Adam.”
He starts rubbing harder than ever, moaning and letting his eyes close. I do the same, and soon I am taken to heaven. Or hell, maybe. But either way, I’ve never felt like this. His penis is so big and fat, his abs are so defined and sweaty and slick, his legs are so powerful-looking…I want him to take me, to just claim me and make me his own. I’m just starting to imagine that when my legs go numb and I realize I am about to orgasm.
“I’m there,” I groan, and he nods.
“Me, too.”
And then we both come together, and for the first time in my life, another person watches me tense up, go still, and then squirt semen all over my chest…
Bump-bump.
I lean against the wall, exhausted and fuzzy-brained, gasping for air. Then it hits me – this was the craziest thing I ever did. I need to get out of here. Now.
I grab my towel and rub the whitish goo off my chest and abdomen. Then I get up and run out before I can even say goodbye. This marks the second time I’ve ditched him lately, but I don’t care – that was reckless, and it’s remarkable that we didn’t get caught. Miraculous, even. Moses coming off the mountain had nothing on us.
Actually, no: the most remarkable thing is that as the door slams behind me, I am almost positive I hear him laughing hysterically to himself.
~
I wait for the nightmares that night. They don’t come. Instead I have a series of hazy, heated sex dreams about Fabian. Now that I have something to assign to these visuals, they’re far more detailed and erotic. We do things I’ve never even seen in porn videos. And when I wake at seven, feeling totally rested – and totally hard – I wait for the mountain of shame to
fall on me. I wait for the guilt. I let a guy watch me masturbate yesterday – that’s bad, right?
But no. I never feel any of that. Instead I feel…kind of charged, like I’m wearing a static-y sweater on a cold day. And by that evening I decided I want to do it again, as crazy as that sounds…or something like it…
Class is dreadful the next day, mostly because he won’t get off my mind. I’m back in the locker room trying on my church’s new ceremonial robes when someone appears behind me, the door closing behind them. And again, I know that it is him. He’s been in the gym, and instantly I smell the musty, sweaty scent wafting off him – admittedly my favorite way for a guy to smell. It’s just so…wild, and I don’t know why I like that, but I do.
I don’t turn. Instead I hear him walk up behind me, and then I see his face in the mirror, looming over my shoulder, his eyes boring into mine. His hair is wild and his face shimmers with sweat. He places a kiss on my earlobe, and I inhale. I have no idea how I am going to be able to handle this or even reject him. But we can’t do this here.
“Fabian,” I breathe, my voice desperate and choked. Already, his name sounds like a prayer on my lips. “Not…here. Not now. Not again. I’m in my robes.”
“I know,” he says, tracing a line down my back. “And you’ve got your cross necklace on, too. You’re always so…proper. So good. Why not be a little bad? Angels can be devils, too – Lucifer himself started out in heaven.”
His voice, low and hungry, makes me shiver. “And then ended up in hell. I’m literally in a pastor’s robe, standing in a seminary school, and I don’t want to get sent straight to hell in a chariot of fire, plunged into a lake of lave, etcetera.”
“Lava – sounds hot. Almost as hot as us.” His eyes turn to slits. “Such a shame.”
“What is?”
“That you’re so holy. Because it means I can’t do…this,” he says, running his hand down my side, then around, and rubbing at my crotch with his arm, large hands. I close my eyes and moan. “And I can’t do…this either,” he whispers, licking me from my ear down to my collarbone, his tongue a wet trail of heaven. My heart pounds, my mouth goes dry. At this point I could rip everything off my body and just attack him, but I can’t – something about the robe is just making me too nervous. I’ve changed a lot lately, but not that much. I am not going to have gay sex in a pastor’s robe.
