by Roan Parrish
“You were friends,” Daniel murmurs. “I remember.”
“You were a kid. You don’t remember shit.”
He shakes his head like I haven’t even spoken.
“What the fuck did he do?”
Rafe is motionless beside me.
It was the beginning of senior year. We’d been in football together for years, but we weren’t exactly close. There was just something about the way I felt when we were together. Something that was different than my other friends. Different even than Xavier. There was this… energy between us. I didn’t know what it was at first.
One afternoon we were drunk at his cousin’s house, where Buddy lived in the basement for a reason I never quite understood, and he came into the bathroom while I was taking a piss. I thought he walked in on me by accident, but then he looked down at my dick and grinned at me like he could read my mind.
At first I was just terrified that he knew my secret. That he was going to tell everyone that I sometimes got hard-ons in the locker room. But then he unzipped his jeans and pissed into the toilet with me. I started to say something, but when we were finished, he reached for me. I startled, but he grinned the way he did when we were playing video games or when he made a good block, blue eyes scrunching up, tongue just showing between the gap in his teeth. He put my hand on his dick and we stroked each other off. It felt good, losing it between us, his rough hand on me. But the second it was over, I was so terrified, so ashamed that I practically ran out of the bathroom.
The next time I saw Buddy, we both acted normal, but the second we were alone, he pushed me against the wall and started fumbling with our pants and I got hard in about three seconds.
We never talked about what we did. We never touched anything but each other’s dicks. Never kissed or caressed. That would’ve seemed totally weird. But it was clear that we both wanted it, so…. That whole month, whenever we were alone together, we jerked each other off, fast and hard, and then got drunk like it never happened and watched football or played one of his cousin’s video games. He would hang around the shop sometimes, shooting the shit with me and Sam. He was into cars too, so it was no big deal.
After another couple months, it was clear what he wanted. He wanted to fuck me. When I got annoyed at him trying to pull me down onto the bed, he’d just act like it was a joke and we’d finish up like we always had.
One day, though, he lost his temper. He was a smiley guy. Big and blond, and when he smiled he looked like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. But when he got pissed, his whole face and neck turned red and his eyes squinted and his mouth turned to a snarl. That day, when I tried to laugh it off, he crowded me against the wall. “You know how easy it’d be for me to tell everyone about this?” he said. I kind of laughed again and rolled my eyes, but his expression chilled me.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Let’s just help each other out, okay?”
I was shocked at what he was saying, but he was still Buddy. Still my friend, and I didn’t think he’d really say anything.
“Come on, man,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing, bud. I’m just saying there are things that feel a whole hell of a lot better than a hand job, you know?” And he smiled at me like he always did. “Look, just think about it.” Then he backed off like he knew he’d gone too far.
A few weeks later, I’d almost forgotten about it. Written it off to being drunk and horny and stupid. He called, asked if I wanted to hang out, and I went.
And it was fine. We drank a few beers, ordered pizza, watched a game. No problem. Same thing the next time. It was all fine.
Then he started bringing it up again. Casually. How good it’d be. How it was no big deal. Just getting off. Just between friends. And how easy it’d be to slip up and tell someone about what we did together.
Finally, one night, he was more explicit than usual and I was tired of going around in circles. So I agreed. Because he was my friend. Because people finding out seemed like the worst thing that could possibly happen. And because maybe Buddy was right and it would be good. Maybe also because I wanted to know for sure. Because sex with Maya had turned into a nightmare, but that was my only experience with it. So yeah. I said okay.
He got that familiar grin on his face. My friend. Happy because I was doing what he wanted. He patted me on the back like I’d made the right decision, and he fumbled our pants down and pushed me down on the bed.
“Cool, man,” he said. “This’ll be awesome.”
But it wasn’t awesome. I couldn’t relax and it hurt and when I wanted to stop—
“Don’t pull that girl shit, man. You agreed. We had a deal.”
So. Afterward, we never did it again. I didn’t go over to Buddy’s house anymore and he didn’t call me again.
But then one morning, I came out to the garage, coffee mug in hand, to see Buddy there, talking with Pop. It had been more than four years, but at the sight of his blond hair and rounded shoulders, I felt queasy and light-headed.
He was going to be picking up a few shifts at the garage, Pop said.
“Hey, man,” Buddy said to me, clapping me on the back. “Long time no see, huh?”
When Pop walked into his office to do some paperwork, I rounded on Buddy.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Aw, come on, bud, don’t be like that,” he said. “A job’s a job, right? And I need this one.”
I shook my head. “You gotta get outta here, man.”
His eyes narrowed and his smile disappeared in an instant. “Look, bud, I don’t think you’re in any position to be telling me what to do,” he said, and he nodded at Pop, coming out of his office. “Just a few shifts a week. No harm, no foul, am I right?” And he walked over to Pop to finalize arrangements.
Daniel looks stricken at what I’ve told them. Sick. And Rafe is still frozen beside me. He does that sometimes. He told me once that in prison, if you were still while others were moving, you were less likely to get pulled into a fight. It was easier to avoid being seen. To take a time-out until you can decide what to do.
I go into the bathroom and splash some water on my face, trying not to think about how, a month after Buddy beginning his shifts at the shop, I’d found Daniel—younger than I had been when Buddy and I started hooking up—blowing him in the alley.
How Buddy’s dirty hand was heavy on Daniel’s hair, Daniel’s sharp shoulders barely visible behind the bulk of Buddy’s thighs. How red Buddy’s face was or how Daniel’s hands fluttered on his own knees like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch Buddy with anything but his mouth. The sick fury that had unfurled in my gut, blinding me to everything but one imperative: get Buddy the fuck away from my brother.
I brush my teeth twice and force myself to walk slowly back to the kitchen. Rafe’s cleaning up the food and Daniel’s sitting on the floor, his back against the refrigerator, clutching Shelby like she’s a stuffed animal. She’s letting him, but I can tell she’s losing patience quickly.
“You’re about to get scratched,” I tell him.
“Huh?” When he looks up, he’s alarmingly pale and his eyes are unfocused. “Ow, shit!”
“Told you.”
Shelby runs to Rafe and rubs her face against his shins.
“Look, I’m really tired,” I say. “I’m gonna head to bed.”
“Colin….” Daniel stands up and comes toward me, but I look over his shoulder. I can’t see the hurt in his face, even if it is mostly on my behalf. I can’t see the sympathy. The soft, vulnerable look that I know will be there. I can’t be mad at him right now. It’s just too much.
“Your socks don’t match,” I say.
“Huh?” Daniel looks down. “Oh. Shit.” He looks like he’s about to say something, but he changes his mind. “I’ll um—I’ll get out of your hair,” he says finally, walking to the front door. He jams his feet into his boots while standing, nearly losing his balance, and pulls his jacket on. Then he turns to me.
“Um.” He runs his hand through his hair, messing it up. “Thanks. Thanks for agreeing to talk with me. I didn’t… I… thanks. And thank you for dinner,” he says, looking to Rafe. “And for….” He shakes his head. “Anyway. I’ll…. Can I maybe call you sometime?”
For a second I think he’s talking to Rafe and I bristle at the idea. Then I realize he’s looking at me.
“I guess,” I say, and he nods, like that’s more than he was expecting.
He opens the door and shivers.
“Bye, cat,” he says as Shelby sniffs at the fresh air. He blocks her with his foot.
“You all right to get home?” Rafe asks.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure,” Daniel says, like he’s confused as to why Rafe would ask.
In bed, I try to pull Rafe down on top of me, but he resists, kissing me chastely on the cheek. I roll close to him and try to kiss his mouth, but he just grabs me and holds me to him, tucking my head under his chin. When I change tactics and try to reach down to his underwear, he growls and rolls us, pinning me to the bed.
“Please,” he says, holding my shoulders down. “Please don’t. Please.” He’s stroking my hair and my face and my neck, looking down at me.
Screw this. If he doesn’t want me, fine.
I roll away from him and bury my face in my pillow. I just want to fall asleep and forget this day ever happened. I wish we were back at the beach house. Wish it was the sound of waves I could hear and not the sounds of traffic. Wish tomorrow I could wake up and have breakfast with Rafe, looking out at the gray ocean instead of dragging myself over to Pop’s to make sure Brian hasn’t gotten scurvy or something from living on only beer and crackers.
“Colin.” Rafe’s voice is gentle, his lips warm at my ear. He kisses my shoulder and rests a hand on my bare hip.
I huff and roll farther away from him, but when he moves toward me again, pulling me back against him, I press my ass into his crotch and hear his breath catch. The hand on my hip turns to a caress, and I throw my head back. Rafe kisses my neck, his hair tumbling over my face. I roll onto my back and pull him down on top of me.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and I can feel his dick stiffen against my hip, so I take advantage of it and kiss him hard, thrusting up against him. Though he tries to pull away at first, he finally sinks down against me, his hands running over my thighs and my ribs as we kiss.
“Are you sure now’s a good time to do this?” Rafe asks, his breath labored. “You sure you want this?”
“Look, just because that thing happened with Buddy, like, a hundred years ago, doesn’t mean I’m some little girl who got raped or something. Would you just fuck me?”
Rafe freezes.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with whether you’re male or female,” he says, and he sounds pissed. “You think men can’t be hurt? Can’t be raped?” His voice is shaking. “Do you know how many men I saw get—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head and pushes off me, dropping onto his back on the bed and putting one arm over his face. “And the fact that you don’t see it—that you don’t see what he did to you….” He shakes his head. “If you don’t feel like it was rape, then… then, I’m glad, I guess, but…. Colin, he coerced you. He threatened to tell your father and your brothers that you were gay if you didn’t let him have sex with you when you didn’t want it. That’s… that’s—well, whatever you want to call it, it’s fucking wrong. And I hate that it happened to you.”
I run a tentative finger down his arm. He’s vibrating with anger. Coerced. Yeah, that’s the word I was trying to find earlier to tell Daniel what I thought might have happened the day I found him and Buddy in the alley. But it wasn’t that. Not for him. And I’m glad. Glad the ugliness didn’t touch him.
“And I fucking hate that you didn’t tell me about it before,” Rafe says, turning to me, his face fierce and his hand on my hair gentle.
I shake my head, trying to find the words to explain that I wanted things to be different with him. I wanted to start that side of things over, as if shit with Buddy had never happened. That I didn’t want to think of what I did with Rafe as even being in the same category as things with Buddy.
But I don’t come up with any words at all. I just reach for Rafe, wanting the warmth of his skin, his scent, the weight of him. Wanting to be connected with him. It’s not even exactly sex that I need. Just something to let me feel close to him.
“Please,” I hear myself say softly. Rafe lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me, sweet and slow. “Please.”
“Colin.” He moves on top of me, stroking my face and neck.
“Please.”
“Are you sure?”
“You think it’s fucked up?” I say around a lump in my throat.
He shakes his head. “I think it’s fucked up that I want you right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I”—his voice drops to a whisper—“I don’t want to be like them. The men. The ones who hurt people.”
“You’re not.”
“Sometimes I’m not sure,” he says.
“No way.”
“Don’t you get it?” he says finally. “I want to tear the fucking world apart to find the people who hurt you. I want to pull them apart with my bare hands and watch them whimper while I tell them what they’re being punished for.” He’s squeezing my shoulders too tightly and his eyes are focused inward, like he’s not even looking at me.
“’S not the same,” I tell him. But he shakes his head.
I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, untangling every snag I encounter, as he calms down. Gradually, my hands find their way from his hair to his neck, then down the corded muscles of his back to rest on his ass, drawing him against me.
We kiss for a while, moving together slowly. When Rafe leans back to pull his shirt off, he’s looking at me strangely.
I want him to obliterate the past and blot out the future. I want to be so completely full-up with only Rafe that everything else falls away. I want to become the person I feel like when he’s touching me. And I also want to show him that he isn’t those men—the ones who hurt people.
“I want—I…. Listen. I trust you,” I say. Rafe runs his knuckles down my jaw, eyes half closing. “I want you to touch me however you want.” I can see the arousal shoot through Rafe in the tightening of his muscles and it makes my heart beat faster. “I want you to… do whatever you want.”
Rafe bites his lip and frowns but the way he’s looking at me leaves no question that he wants this. His pupils are huge in the warm brown of his eyes and his forehead is damp. “Yeah?”
I nod. He kisses me, and when I reach a hand up to his nipple, he presses my wrist into the pillow above my head. When I reach my other hand down to where his erection is sticking out of the band of his underwear, he presses that wrist to the bed too.
He pauses just before kissing me, lips an inch from mine. “Is that okay?”
I nod, gasping for breath.
“Mmmm. You can trust me.” I nod. There’s something almost desperate in his voice. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.”
He kisses me again and I go wild beneath him, testing the strength of his hands on my wrists.
“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this.” He rolls my hips up and my wrists slide from his hand. I whimper at the loss, and he rolls my hips up until they come off the bed.
He licks into my hole like a starving man, and I don’t even recognize the sound that comes out of me, part scream and part whimper. A drop of my own precome lands on my chin.
Rafe opens me with his tongue, pressing down even harder on my arms, and groans when my hole relaxes.
“So fucking sweet here,” he mutters against my ass, and then both his hands are spreading my cheeks, practically bending me in half, and I can’t move, can’t do anything except moan as his mouth moves on me.
Rafe grabs one of my hands in each of his and moves them so I’m holding my legs open for him. He sucks on
my hole and runs his tongue around it, then licks his way to my balls, taking each one in his mouth. I feel ridiculous. Awkward. Totally at his mercy, my ass and balls and dick exposed for him.
He licks up the length of my erection, swirling his tongue around the tip, where I’m leaking. He sucks me until I’m moaning and trying to thrust deeper into his mouth, but my position won’t let me. He pulls off, presses a kiss to the inside of one thigh, a bite to the other, and moves back to my ass, burying his face there and spearing his tongue into me until I’m a quivering mess.
He eases my legs down so my feet are flat on the bed and rolls on the condom. He grabs my wrists again and holds them fast over my head. “Put your legs around me,” he says breathlessly.
Rafe sinks into me in one slow, deep thrust and I almost scream. With my legs around him, thighs pressed nearly to my chest, his entire weight is bearing down on me. He’s all around me and inside of me, and any way I move, he’s there.
He catches my scream in his mouth, kissing me, feeding me the taste of myself on his tongue until I have to wrench my face away to gasp in breath. A bite to my throat. His tongue at my pulse. The scrape of teeth along my jaw. Then we lock eyes and he starts to move.
In this position, I’m so tight around him that he feels huge, on the edge of painful, like every time he slides out of me it seems impossible he’ll be able to thrust back in. Confused pleasure skitters through my body and lands at the base of my dick, trapped between us. I can feel him in my stomach, my chest, my throat.
I wiggle my hips, desperately trying to get some contact for my erection, and I tighten around Rafe. He roars, slamming into me until we’re locked so tightly together that I can’t move, can only let out a choked moan. He squeezes my wrists and presses his other palm to my cheek, his eyes burning into me.
“The sounds you make fucking kill me, Colin.” His hand ghosts over my face, shakily tracing my lips, by brows, my cheeks. “You—Jesus, you just kill me,” he chokes out. Then he kisses me before I can say anything, the sweetness of his mouth a contrast to his powerful thrusts.
