Boyfriend Material

by K.A. Mitchell

  He sat at my desk where he’d been diligently poking at differential equations for an hour. I was stretched out on my stomach on my bed, sneaking looks at him and brushing up on my American Sign Language with some YouTube videos. I pushed up to run a few sentences. I’d taken it last year for my language credit, but my more advanced vocabulary was rusty.

  “I like cold...um?” Ethan said.

  “You’re supposed to be doing calculus.”

  “Cold what?” he persisted. Because it was Ethan.

  “Turkey.” I repeated the sign. “Wait, since when—”

  “My computer can also access YouTube.” He dropped his pencil and signed What’s your boyfriend’s name?

  I raised my brows and spelled Ethan at him.

  “I hope that was my name.”

  I shook my head. “Most people learn the alphabet first. What the hell are you studying signing for?” I might have snapped that last bit out. Because I wasn’t deaf. And even if I lost total hearing in my bad ear I wouldn’t be deaf. That was the one thing I’d clung to in the shit I’d been dealt from the genetic lottery. I wasn’t totally deaf.

  Ethan ignored my snarl, saying patiently, “My boyfriend’s uncle is deaf. I thought if I ever met him, it would be nice to know some basic signs.”

  He made it sound perfectly reasonable, rather than stalker-creepy.

  “Did you finish the review?” I asked.

  He flicked the paper off my desk and it sailed onto my bed. I grabbed a pencil from my laptop bag, pushed my computer closed and settled back on my stomach to look it over.

  Ethan came around and climbed on my bed, straddling my thighs.

  I stopped in the middle of checking his first equation. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready to be rewarded for all my hard work.”

  “Hmm. You hope.” But my lips were trying to curve in a smile. The first problem was right. Hallelujah.

  Ethan’s weight lifted and he shifted his hands around to the front of the sweats I wore as pajamas.

  I pinned his wiggling fingers by pushing my hips down. “Who said you earned a reward?”

  He escaped and got a grip on the elastic waistband at the sides. “Well, you’re not shaking your head and saying ‘Ethan, we just went over this.’”

  “Just because you got three questions right—Hey.”

  He jerked the sweats down. The air hitting my ass should have made me cold but it had the opposite effect. Especially with Ethan breathing on me.

  “I was motivated.” Ethan managed to pull the sweats all the way off my legs. I might have been helping him a little.

  “That’s been the problem so far? Lack of motivation?”

  “Maybe.” He slipped down my boxer briefs.

  I started to turn over but his weight was back on my thighs. His chest actually. Bare skin. It made me warm and shivery at the same time. He was shifting around, clothes rustling. Naked Ethan and me. Alone. Without wondering if we were going to be interrupted. Even better, without the dread of Thanksgiving plus twenty strangers hanging over me.

  I put my computer in its padded compartment and pushed my backpack under my bed. “Well, I can’t take my pants off during your makeup quiz tomorrow.”

  Ethan swarmed up my back to sigh in my good ear. “It’s like you don’t even care if I pass.” He pulled my shirt off over my head then kissed my neck. I wasn’t hard or anything, but it felt nice. Kisses, warm and tingly across my shoulders. I pillowed my face on my hands.

  He trailed his tongue down my spine. All the way down.

  I jerked in surprise at the damp flick at the top of my ass crack. “What—”

  Ethan got his hands on my ass cheeks and held them open so he could swipe his tongue down farther. Damn, he could move fast.

  I clenched my cheeks. “Um.”

  But that was all I had. Um. I might have been a virgin when I met him, but I hadn’t lived in a cave. I knew what rimming was. I just didn’t know how I felt about it happening at this exact second.

  Ethan waited, his chin grazing the top of my ass. I felt the tiniest prickle of stubble as he shifted his head back and forth.

  I swallowed. That first swipe had been too fast to tell if I liked it. But chances were, based on how I felt about his fingers and his dick there, I wasn’t going to mind. I had to lick my lips before I could talk, and even then I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. “Maybe I should shower.”

  I’d relaxed my cheeks, and Ethan parted them again. “You smell all right to me.”

  I gasped, and not just from how his breath felt there. He could just say stuff like that. Heat rose in my face, my throat, my ears. I wanted to, well at least try, but I was suddenly horribly shy. I’d thought getting fucked was a leap of faith. Somehow having his tongue on my asshole meant a whole different level of trust.

  But it was Ethan. And as much as I knew it couldn’t last, that nothing stayed good, he had a way of making me believe, just for a second, that things might be okay.

  I relaxed more and tipped my hips enough that he would get the idea that I was on board with it, because no way was I ever saying, “Lick my ass.”

  Ethan smiled into the skin of one ass cheek, then I heard his legs slide off the foot of the bed and thunk on the floor. His shoulders pushed my thighs wide open, and it was hard not to tense up again. It hadn’t taken me much to get from I-think-I’m-gay to I-want-a-guy-to-fuck-me, especially not on Train Ethan, but I hadn’t figured on this side trip.

  He started with my balls, sneaky fucker. He knew that was a safe bet. Kissing, licking, sucking from the back side, the spread of my legs making things easy for him. Not that I wanted to make it hard for him. Wait, I was hard for him, starting to rock against my blanket, the scratchiness almost-but-not-quite too much friction on my dick. Just like the wet suck on my balls edged on too much of a good thing.

  My head came up as I gasped. My hands had become fists instead of a pillow for my cheek.

  He made an enthusiastic groan, rumbling against my wet skin and I realized his nose was deep in my crack. Suddenly it wasn’t embarrassing, but hot. His pointed tongue pressed firmly along my taint, sliding toward my hole. He stopped and then swiped back to the edge again. I was completely ready to try it now. It occurred to me that he definitely knew what he was doing. Part of me wanted to know if he’d done it before and part of me didn’t want to think about that, because I was pretty sure I’d know who it had been with if he had.

  His hands opened me wide, and then his tongue was flickering, fluttering over my hole. It tickled, and I jumped again, but he held me too tight for me to go anywhere. He put a kiss on the spot, wet and soft, then harder, tongue swirling. That did not tickle anymore.

  Hot, slippery and so fucking good. My dick liked it. My balls liked it. I loved it. The dorm wasn’t completely empty so I had to do that stuffing a fist in my mouth thing again, but there were still rasping sounds coming out of my throat. It was like all the pleasure was focused on that one tiny spot, and it made me a little frantic to get it to spread deeper, because I couldn’t handle everything concentrated so tightly.

  Then his tongue was in my ass, not far, but there. I didn’t know what was making me more crazy, the sensation or the idea of it. He groaned again, buzzing on all those sensitive, stirred up nerves. I had to move. Had to do something to make all this feeling go somewhere, but I couldn’t even shift enough to rub off on the blanket.

  “Oh God-Oh God-Oh God.” I couldn’t seem to say anything else, to tell him what I needed. And I really, really needed.

  His finger slid in, next to his tongue. His slick tongue teased the outside while his finger fucked inside and that was it. I squirmed and jerked and shuddered. If I could just get the right pressure on my dick...

  He pulled away, panting humid breaths into my t
high. His finger was still in my ass, pumping slowly. “That was so hot.”

  I made a groan as an answer. I was afraid if I tried words they would be a whimper of Please more.

  His finger slid out. He shifted on the bed, rustling around. A click and snap from a lube bottle had me tipping my hips up higher.

  His fingers were already slick against my hole, but he leaned over me, voice deep and rough. “Can I fuck you?”

  What part of me tipping my hips up had him confused? I wanted to get lost in those feelings again. Stopping to talk about it left me feeling weird, exposed, like when people stopped to stare at my hair and eyes. “Yeah.”

  His fingers pressed inside me, and I got impatient. “Now is good.”

  “Thank God.” His voice got a little unsteady then. “Can I—I like to see your face.”

  It was easier on my knees. It felt like I was more in control. Not only did him looking at me give an anxious twist to my guts, the sensations of the fuck were more intense, which was awesome and scary at the same time. Like I was swinging out over space and only Ethan was there with me, and I had to count on him to pull me back.

  But I had to admit he’d earned it. I flopped onto my back and swung my legs around. He grabbed one calf and held it against his chest while he lined his dick up. I closed my eyes.

  His tongue had left me acutely sensitive. His dick felt thicker, harder, hotter as he pushed inside. He made a sound I could feel as well as hear and I snuck a look at him under my lashes.

  His own eyes were closed, lips parted. It was sort of like his concentrating-on-a-hard-math-problem face, and kind of his O-face at the same time. “Oh fuck.” He breathed it out slowly. “You feel so good on me.”

  He felt pretty good in me.

  He made a stroke, and it felt even better. So good like this. Him rubbing in me so that sharp jolts of pleasure were shuddering from my ass to my dick and balls. Then why did I want to roll over onto my stomach, make it hard and quick, come and done?

  He pulled me closer, drawing my other leg up to rest on his shoulders and started moving faster. I hated it and I loved it. Because I wanted to open my eyes and believe that there was more to this than these happy nerve endings, and Ethan being a nice guy. And when he fucked me on my back like this there was nowhere to hide. He leaned forward, cock going deeper, the angle better for me. I fucked back against him, reaching for his shoulders.

  I should have opened my eyes. Because he caught my hands in his instead, pressing our palms together. I did open my eyes then. Big mistake. He held them with his soft brown ones. It shouldn’t have felt more intimate than his tongue in my ass, but it did. Even the build up to coming felt like something chasing me that I should probably outrun if I wanted to live.

  “Oh shit.” Ethan started fucking me harder, releasing my hands and grabbing my hips. His eyes squeezed shut as he slammed in a few times, then jerked.

  Oh.

  “God. You—God.” Ethan made a few more stuttering thrusts, then I felt it, slick on—in—my hole.

  Right then I didn’t mind looking at his face because I got to see what fucking me did to him. How he looked hungry and happy and vulnerable all at the same time.

  But he hung his head, panting. “Sorry. So sorry. You—everything was so hot and I couldn’t hold back anymore.”

  I didn’t mind that either. Kind of a relief that he wasn’t so far ahead of me in experience that he always got everything right.

  He moved a bit, slid out, and then went down on me like he was starving for cock. A fast bobbing suck got me right back to that edge and then he put his fingers in me and pressed. No more thinking. Just feeling. Everything met at that single point of sensation, and I came. Hard, ragged spasms that made me curl up toward him and then shove him away from my dick as it got too sensitive.

  Easing his fingers out, he rested his head just above my hip.

  One of the things I found kind of cute about Ethan was that he tended to pass out after his nuts were empty. Especially if we’d fucked. Usually just for a couple of minutes, sometimes longer. I liked it because it let me get settled again, feel like myself. Don’t get me wrong, I loved sex. Orgasms with Ethan were a hundred times better than orgasms alone. But afterward, I liked a few minutes to be alone, without having to go so far as to kick him out of the bed.

  His head was heavy, and I wondered if I could shift him enough to sneak off to the bathroom. I was going to have to wash my blanket before I left tomorrow. I needed to remember to keep a towel handy. Sometimes I thought condoms might not be a bad thing. Not that I didn’t trust Ethan. He’d said he’d never gotten as far as fucking or being fucked with anyone before me. But condoms would cut down on laundry, that was for sure.

  He shifted himself and then grunted a complaint before tossing the lube bottle out from under his side. He lifted his head. “I never thought to ask. Do you like that lube?”

  “Huh?”

  Sleep, Ethan. Go back to sleep.

  “We could go shopping for some, together.” His tone said he thought that was a terrific idea.

  Go to a drugstore, with my boyfriend, and scrutinize items in the family planning aisle before strolling up to the counter to plop down some personal lubricant, and having the cashier check us out, looking at us, knowing what we were going to do with it. I think I’d rather try it on just spit.

  And it wasn’t the gay part that bothered me. It was just so personal. Hence the name.

  “It’s fine,” I told him.

  “There are all these different kinds and textures too. Some are supposed to be better for anal.”

  I could do it, sure. But talking about it? No thank you very much.

  “This works fine,” I said.

  “Okay.” His voice was thick, but not with sleep. He scooched up a bit. “I was wondering. Because I didn’t know—like it might feel different on your dick—and I wanted to ask if you might want to fuck me sometime.”

  That right there? That was why Ethan sleeping after sex was one of his best qualities.

  His question felt like a trap. Familiar too, in the way that just when I think I’m getting the hang of this life business, I realize the cliff edge is starting to crumble underneath me. When I didn’t answer, he kissed my chest, just below a nipple, and said, “I mean, it’s not a deal breaker or anything.”

  “Thanks,” I managed to get out. “Good to know.”

  “I was just wondering.”

  “And you thought now was a good time to bring it up?”

  It was stupid. I was stupid. Thanksgiving break was nothing more than a long weekend. But as much as I didn’t want to admit it—or be dragged home to meet Ethan’s twenty family members—time apart wasn’t something I was looking forward to. I knew all the doubts would creep in, like weeds tearing through the concrete. And there wouldn’t be Ethan with his smiling reassurance to chase them away.

  He smiled at me now. Not the super happy one, but a twisted sly one that suggested he knew my brain was going all hamster-in-a-wheel. “No, I thought now was a good time to rim you so we’d both have some super-hot memory to jerk off to this weekend.”

  Hot was a serious understatement. My face flushed and my dick tried to take an interest again. The pulse of blood ached like a raw tooth.

  Roadkill. Roadkill with ketchup. That was better.

  Ethan made a sigh and buried his face in my neck. I stroked a hand down his back, stretching to reach the swell of his ass. Every single thing we did was insanely hot. Better than anything my brain had come up with during solo sessions where I wondered what it would be like to have a person attached to the lips, the hands, the body I was wanting to feel against mine.

  “Yeah,” I said finally. “We can try it that way sometime.”

  He smiled into my skin and then lifted his head. “The semester break
is five weeks.”

  “Yeah.” That was way more than a long weekend. A long time to be staring at the fake paneled walls in my eight-by-six room in the trailer back in Van. Without Ethan.

  “So you should ask your uncle if you can visit me at Christmas,” he said.

  I loved how he thought my uncle would actually want me hanging around that long. But I couldn’t deny that it was nice Ethan did.

  Chapter 4

  Uncle Owen collected me at the Greyhound station in downtown Pittsburgh. As near as I could figure, he was around forty, since all I knew was that he was a couple years younger than my mom. His hair was all white—he told me it had been like that since he was thirty—and his eyes were both the super clear swimming pool blue that my right one was.

  He’d been totally deaf all his life.

  He shook my hand and then signed, Good you’re here. Happy to see you.

  I had my backpack on and a duffle bag over one shoulder, so the signing felt off balance as I answered, Thank you for inviting me. That concluded the particularly awkward portion of things, and he led the way to his car.

  When he’d come to see me in juvie, he’d been angry. At first I thought it was at me, but then I found out it was at my mom. Because she should have done something to help me handle having Waardenburg better. I don’t know exactly what he thought she should have done. I know they’d given me more than one hearing test as a kid, but until I figured out that the static thickness on one side of my head wasn’t something everyone dealt with things tested normal.

  I was grateful to him for helping me out, not only with some money and with being a cosigner on my student loans, but for actually giving me something to hang on to in juvie. Knowing I might not have to go back to Shithole, West Virginia for the rest of my life probably saved my life.

  The drive over the river and past a park was blissfully quiet after the bus trip. Despite the presence of headphones and the hood over my head, some girl next to me had talked at me from the college pick up all the way south to New Castle. The next guy didn’t talk, but I could hear his music bleeding into my good ear. Other than road noises, the ride in Uncle Owen’s car was silent. I was hoping I never found out what it was like to be deaf, but I had to admit I liked the quiet.