The Queen & the Homo Jock King

by T. J. Klune

  Santiago threw his hands up in the air and walked away from our table.

  “Dude,” Vince said to his brother. “You cried?”

  “Like, full-on tears,” I said gleefully. “He had so many feelings.”

  Darren pulled me to him and wrapped his arm around my neck, his lips near my ear. “I will fucking destroy you,” he growled.

  “Promises, promises,” I whispered back and because I could, I let my lips trail along his jaw. He stiffened slightly and I could have sworn I heard a low groan, but I couldn’t be sure. He didn’t stop me as I pulled away. “Now. Where was I? Oh yes. Tears and feelings.”)

  The Homo Jock King held the Queen in his arms and his lip quivered.

  (“It did not!”)

  His lip quivered and he said, “I’ve always wanted to touch you like this.”

  The Queen cocked an eyebrow because she was totally in control of the situation and was slightly taken aback that the Homo Jock King was already sort of crying. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. You see, I’ve never seen true beauty until I looked upon your face.”

  The Queen, used to such compliments, said, “Tone it down, Darren. You’re coming off as a little desperate. I’m not dropping my panties for you right now, no matter how hard you try.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Darren said. “Sometimes, with all my muscles that I have because I work out fifteen times a day as I’m overcompensating for things I’d rather not talk about, I forget what it means to not be desperate. In fact, I’m pretty much desperate all the time. Desperate for you.”

  (“What?” Darren barked. “That doesn’t even sound like me!”

  “It doesn’t?” I asked. “Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember it happening exactly that way.”

  “I don’t work out fifteen times a day!”

  “Once, fifteen, same difference. Do you really need to do squats?”

  “You weren’t complaining when I was squatting on your dick,” he said.

  “Cannot be unheard,” Corey breathed.

  And for some reason, I couldn’t get that image out of my head. Because Darren had tree-trunk thighs and… just. How would they look if he was doing something like that? I mean, inquiring minds wanted to know. Not me specifically, but. You know. Just general knowledge. That I wouldn’t mind having. About his thighs.

  Shut up.

  “Since Sandy’s brain seems to be fried,” Darren said, “I’ll take back over.”

  Thiiiighs.)

  Darren worked out only once a day. Maybe twice, if he needed to feel vascular. Nothing more. And his lips never quivered, nor did his eyes glisten. And he definitely didn’t need to compensate for anything because he was all good there. More than good. He most definitely had his fair share. Everyone said so. And he wasn’t desperate for the Queen. Not at all. He was cool, calm, and completely in control of the situation.

  The Queen, however, was shaking in his arms like a leaf in the wind.

  “What’s wrong?” Darren growled, his voice deep and masculine and perfect.

  “Oh, Darren,” the Queen said, breath hitching in her chest. “I just… I just realized that I’m overwhelmed by all of these… these feelings I have for you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before about anyone.”

  “Feelings?” Darren asked. Because sure, if he was pressed, he would admit that he’d thought about the Queen that way. But he most certainly didn’t know feelings were involved. Darren wasn’t about feelings. He was a man of action and reaction. He didn’t have time for feelings, but damn if this queen didn’t make him want to. He’d been hurt in the past, and buried these so-called feelings deep under his rough exterior.

  “It’s like I’m burning from the inside out,” the Queen said, her pretty eyes filling with tears as she whimpered. “I ache for you. Sometimes when I’m by myself, I think things about you.” The Queen leaned forward, bosom rising up and falling back. “Sexual things.”

  (“I didn’t say that!” I snapped at him. “Why aren’t you telling them what really happened? My bosom wasn’t rising.”

  “This is what really happened,” he said. “You told me you burned for me. You were burning.”

  “Paul,” I said. “Does that really sound like something I would say?” If anyone knew, it’d be him. He knew me best. He’d know the truth. He was my best friend and I loved him dearly.

  “Well,” Paul said, hedging.

  That bitch.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you mean well?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not really outside the realm of possibility. I mean, remember all those bodice rippers you used to read when we were teenagers? You went around for months claiming to be a fiery duchess who was going to meet her surly prince one day and get into, and I quote, ‘shenanigans of an adult variety.’ End quote.”

  “Yes, well,” I said with a sniff. “I obviously had good taste, so.”

  “Obviously,” Darren said. “You were burning for me. Can I finish, please?”

  “Fine. But you’d better get it right this time.”)

  The Queen was sobbing in his arms.

  (“Darren!”)

  The Queen was kind of crying a little bit in his arms. Darren didn’t know what to do. He thought maybe he should just turn around and walk away. It’d be easier. His life had been hard and filled with man pain and suffering. He was a lone wolf. A solitary creature. A man on a mission to be alone, to never have to give his cold metal heart away to another for fear it be returned, shattered beyond repair.

  “Baby,” Darren said. “We don’t have time for those tears. It’ll do us both no good. Dry those eyes before you break.”

  “But, Darren,” the Queen cried. “I can’t help it! When I’m around you, all I want to do is scream for you to take me. Take me because I’ve always been yours. Why can’t you just look at me and love me!”

  Darren took a step back, trying to put some distance between the two of them. The Queen was beautiful, yes, and maybe his cold metal heart was starting to beat once more, but he didn’t know if he could take the chance. The risk might be far too great. He had a past, a dark past that could threaten to overwhelm the both of them if—

  (“Okay,” I said. “Seriously. What the hell are you even talking about?”

  “My dark past and man pain,” Darren said as if I was stupid. “I’m setting the scene to show why I was so reluctant to get involved but you were crying and sad when I was just trying to push you away to protect you.”

  “Dark past and man pain?”

  “How much of this actually happened?” Corey whispered to Paul.

  “Seventy percent,” Paul whispered back. “No. Wait. Twenty-three percent.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your dark past and man pain?” Vince asked, sounding confused. “I mean, I knew all about the way you wanted—”

  “Wanted to forget all about the dark past and man pain,” Darren interrupted. “That’s exactly right. Thanks, Vince. For bringing that up. At this moment.”

  Vince stared at him funny.

  Paul just sighed.

  “You know what?” I said. “No. Just no. You are not turning my love story into your soliloquy of mangst.”

  Soliloquy of mangst, Darren mouthed to Vince, who just shrugged. “And what happened to this being our love story?”

  “Yeah, you gave up that right as soon as you started telling a shit story.”

  “A shit story? Now wait just a goddamn—”

  “Nope. Sorry. No time to listen to you. What really happened was that the Queen—”)

  The Queen saw the Homo Jock King was starting to break down. She was supremely embarrassed for him, so, for lack of a better option, she dragged him by the arm and up the stairs into the Queen’s Lair. She hoped he understood just how important it was for him to be up here, because she normally didn’t let a commoner such as him into her sacred space.

  (“Yeah, except you already did let him in your sacred space, if you know
what I mean.”

  “Shut up, Corey!”)

  Once the Homo Jock King, a broken, beaten-down shell of a man, realized where he stood, he looked back toward the Queen, who stood regally on her balcony, surveying her minions below.

  “What place is this?” he asked her.

  “This is my lair,” she said, a breeze blowing and making her hair and gowns billow around her.

  (“Wait, why were things billowing? And why the hell were you wearing a gown? You know what? You weren’t even Helena when we found you in the Lair. Shouldn’t you be calling yourself Sandy?”

  “Paul.”

  “Yes, Sandy?”

  “I’m trying. To tell. A motherfucking story.”

  “Sorry, Sandy.”)

  The Queen was billowing because it looked cool and epic and shit and everyone knows that queens should be allowed to billow whenever they want. The light was hitting her just right too and everyone was in awe of her, as they should have been. Her minions below were clapping and chanting her name while the Homo Jock King broke down behind her. It was a glorious moment that would forever be remembered because the Queen was awesome and amazing and no one could say otherwise.

  Eventually, the Homo Jock King stopped crying and she turned back to face him.

  “Feeling better?” the Queen asked.

  “Yes,” he said, sniffling. “I am just so taken with you that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I don’t deserve you. What would a creature such as yourself want with a peasant like me?”

  “That’s a good question,” the Queen said. “I have no fucking idea, but there it is, I guess.”

  “But you do?” the Homo Jock King said. “You do want me? To be mine for all of eternity?”

  “Eh,” the Queen said. “It could go either way. Why don’t we go on a date first before we start talking forever.”

  “Oh joy!” the Homo Jock King cried. “Oh wondrous joy! I feel the tears coming on again, this time because of happiness!”

  (“Wow, Darren,” Paul said. “You sure cried a lot.”

  “That’s because I was so overcome with joy,” Darren said through gritted teeth.

  “He’s just a big softie.” I patted his hand. “Aren’t you, bae.”

  “You know what?” Darren said. “Let’s not drag this out any further. I’ll just finish it up.”

  “You better not make me—”)

  Darren winced as the Queen screamed, “Take me, you paragon of manly virtue! Take me here in the balcony and let me feel the entire might of your ten and a half inches of pure, stiff—”

  (“Ten and a half inches,” I said, laughing so hard that tears came to my eyes. “You’re a liar.”)

  “Oh my god,” the Queen moaned as Darren dropped his pants. “You weren’t lying at all. That has to be the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. I need you to mount me. Mount me like… like… like something mountable.”

  (“Sandy. I swear to god if you don’t stop laughing—”

  “You c-couldn’t even th-th-think of w-what I wanted you to mount me like! H-holy shit.”)

  And then they totally had butt sex and the Queen said she was so in love with Darren and that’s the end of the story.

  (“That’s not the end! It really ended like—”)

  The Homo Jock King begged the Queen to fuck him, so she whipped out her thirty-inch dick and fucked him so hard that he came untouched and then he said he loved her, and the Queen said, “Let’s just see where this goes. I like you, but not that much. Now, go get me a shot of tequila and some pretzels because I’m hungry. God help you if the pretzels are too salty, though.”

  And that’s how the story really ended.

  The end.

  COREY, PAUL, and Vince were staring at us.

  Darren and I were glaring at each other.

  “That,” Corey said with a cough. “Um. I don’t know what that was.”

  “The truth,” I said. “Except for everything Darren said. That part was a lie and I’m sure he feels really bad about it.”

  “And then we walked up to the Lair and found you naked,” Vince said excitedly. “I love it when stories come together like that. It gives me goose bumps. Like when they referenced things in Transformers 2 that happened in the first one. Shia LeBeouf just can’t catch a break.”

  Everyone stared at Vince now.

  He pouted. “I contribute things.”

  “Well,” Paul said. “I don’t—”

  “Are you finally ready to order?” Santiago asked, appearing out of nowhere. “I would hate for the father accountant to waste away to nothing.”

  I picked up my knife, ready to throw it at his face, but Darren stopped me by grabbing my wrist, quietly reminding me that I wouldn’t do well in prison. Santiago, of course, took that as a sign that Darren was protecting him and offering a pledge of his undying love and proceeded to all but give him a lap dance while I did nothing but laugh at the both of them. It was awesome to see Darren so uncomfortable. I wondered how many other twinks I could find that he’d fucked.

  I kept laughing until I saw Paul frowning again.

  We ordered and Santiago disappeared inside.

  “Sandy,” Paul said. “Would you join me in the bathroom?”

  Uh-oh.

  “I don’t really want to,” I said. “You learned to go by yourself when you were four. You can still do it. I believe in you.”

  “Oh,” Paul said. “Well, it’s a good thing I wasn’t really asking you, now was it.”

  That was not a good sign.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” I said to the others. “Sometimes, Paul has issues using public restrooms and I have to stand guard in front of the stall so he can shit and—”

  “Sandy!”

  “Coming, Paul.”

  I followed him inside through the restaurant, loud mariachi music playing in the speakers overhead. He led the way through the door labeled Señores. He closed the door behind us and bent over to look under the stalls to make sure we were alone. Then he locked the door, turned to me, and said with complete seriousness, “Is Darren keeping you hostage?”

  I said, “What.”

  “Did Darren Mayne kidnap you for something nefarious and is now keeping you hostage?”

  “Paul. Seriously? That’s what you come up with?”

  His eyes widened. “Can he hear us? Did he make you wear a wire? Of course he would have. He’s devious. Why didn’t I think of that? Blink once for yes, twice for no. Has he done things to your anus against your will?”

  I groaned. “No, he hasn’t done anus things against my will. What the hell.”

  “Uh-huh, and that’s just exactly what someone who has been kidnapped would say. If you fear for your life and need me to rescue you, say potato.”

  “I’m not saying potato because I don’t fear for my life and don’t need to be rescued!”

  His eyes were wide and his face went pale.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “You just said potato,” he whispered. “He did kidnap you. Is he holding you for ransom? Is he using you carnally for his pleasure? How big is his dick and, as a sidebar, is he cut or uncut? Vince is—no. Focus, Paul. Focus on what’s important. I can always ask about dick size and if his penis has a hoodie later after I’ve saved you from his clutches. We need a plan to get you to a safe house. My house isn’t safe. Yours isn’t either. Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll run interference and give you my debit card. The pin number is Nana’s birthday minus the number of times I’ve seen Star Wars. Hint, the answer is ninety-seven. Withdraw two hundred dollars in cash at the nearest ATM, then go to the Motel 6 near the Orange Grove exit on the freeway. Check in with the name Gustavo Tiberius and use a German accent. Use the cash you’ve withdrawn. Wait for me to arrive and we’ll figure something out.”

  “Are you done?” I asked him.

  “I think so.” He shook his head. “Whoa. That was kind of a head rush. How cool am I at planning escapes from kidnappers? Is that a job? Is that a thin
g I can do for a living? How much do you think it would pay? I’d be sort of like a superhero. I don’t look good in spandex. Never mind. The dream is dying. Wait for it… wait for it. Okay. That dream is dead.”

  “Gustavo Tiberius?” I asked. “That’s the name you come up with?”

  He shrugged. “There has to be someone in the world with that name. He’s probably badass and does things like gunplay and is into BDSM or something.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to redirect the conversation. “Focus. Paul. Are you with me?”

  Paul nodded. “I think I am. Probably.”

  “Okay, repeat after me. I have not been kidnapped.”

  “I have not been kidnapped,” Paul said.

  “No,” I said. “I meant—Jesus Christ. Paul. I haven’t been kidnapped.”

  “Am I still repeating after you, or?”

  “No! Paul!”

  “Sandy!”

  “What are you doing!”

  “Why are we yelling at each other in the bathroom of a Mexican restaurant!”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Stop yelling!”

  “You stop yelling!”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, something I learned early on that I needed to do with Paul instead of slapping him upside the head. It almost didn’t work this time. “Why would you think Darren kidnapped me?”

  “Because,” Paul said. “One minute you claim to hate him and the next you’re like, totally in love with him. Or something. But it’s not a normal love. Santiago was hitting on him right in front of you and you didn’t even get jealous at all. You were laughing at him, like you thought his pain was funny.”

  Because his pain was funny. Fucker couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. “Have you ever thought that maybe I’m just not a jealous person? Or maybe that I’m just secure enough in Darren’s feelings for me?” I almost couldn’t say the words with a straight face, but then I remembered Mike’s warning and the way his chest hair had felt in my fingers. That chest hair was a promise to save a gay bar and pave my way to queendom. I was Meryl Streeping the shit out of this. Paul was going to be so proud of me when this was all over. Or completely appalled. It was fifty-fifty either way.