The Queen & the Homo Jock King

by T. J. Klune

  “We’re making out,” I said as he leaned forward and kissed me again, biting my lower lip and tugging on it until I moaned.

  “We are,” he said, hiking his thigh up against me even harder.

  “Next to an industrial-sized trash bin,” I said, because I thought it should be known.

  “Right,” he said, forehead against mine, hands rubbing against my hips, raising the skirt I wore just a little bit more.

  “That smells of rotting Mexican food,” I said.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  “Consider me wooed.” I tilted my head back as he kissed down my neck. “How’s your date going?”

  “Great,” he said, trying to pull the skirt up higher. “He never shuts up.”

  “I never shut up,” I said, running my fingers through his hair.

  “I like it when you never shut up.” Before I could even comprehend what was happening, he’d spun me around, my face against the brick. He grunted as he pressed up against me, breath hot on my neck. “I like all the noises you make,” he growled in my ear, and I couldn’t stop the strangled noise that fell from my lips even if I’d wanted to.

  It was wrong, what we were doing. Not because it was with each other, but because of where we were doing it. Anyone could walk down the alley at any point. Someone from inside the restaurant could come outside for a smoke break. Our friends and his brother were sitting just inside, waiting for us to come back, not to mention the hipster twink who’d paid an exorbitant amount of money just to be here with Darren.

  But I didn’t tell him to stop.

  And that didn’t stop him from pushing up my skirt until my ass was exposed, the black lace panties I wore underneath stretching as he ran his big hands over it. He didn’t try to remove my underwear, but that didn’t stop him from pressing his face against me, his nose in the crack of my ass, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me until I arched against him. I felt the scrape of his teeth against my skin, the wet heat of his tongue as he pressed against the lace. I pressed my fist to my mouth as he spread my cheeks apart, trying to get at my asshole through the panties. I was tucked, so I couldn’t get hard, but the pressure in my dick was bordering on painful. And yet I wanted more.

  He mouthed at my ass, fingers gripping tight enough that I was sure there’d be bruises there the next day. The thought of his marks on my skin should not have been as hot as it was. I tried to press against his face even harder, wanted the friction of the stubble on his chin to rub my skin raw. He felt my urgency and gripped me tighter, his tongue not quite breaching my asshole through the lace.

  Someone laughed, startling us both. It was probably from the street on the other side of the restaurant, but it slowed us down. Even though I wanted nothing more than to have him strip me and fuck me right there (or maybe I could fuck him just to see what noises he’d make), I knew we couldn’t do this here. Even if I was desperate to find out just how far my newfound public sex kink really went.

  He stood up behind me, skirt still raised as he pressed against me again. I could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said in my ear. “You’re going to go back inside with the others. I’m going to go sit with Caleb. We’re both going to finish as quickly as we can. Then you’re going to go back to the Queen’s Lair and you will wait for me. I’m not fucking around on this, Sandy. Whatever the fuck you were thinking about Caleb and me is wrong. There was never anything between us and there never will be. Because now I’ve finally gotten a taste of you, and I am never letting you go.”

  He tugged my skirt down gently, smoothing out the wrinkles. Once I was at least somewhat presentable again, I turned around, only to be faced with one of the most beautiful smiles I’d ever seen. He was full-on grinning at me, the remnants of my lipstick still upon his lips (the rest of it was probably on the ass of my underwear and I had to quickly banish that thought before we got started all over again). I brought my hand up and licked my thumb, his eyes tracking every movement. I brushed my thumb over his lips, wiping away the evidence. He popped my thumb into his mouth and sucked, cheeks hollowing and I bit back a groan because he looked so fucking good like that.

  He let go of my thumb and brought his own hands up and started rubbing against my face, probably making it worse, but I couldn’t be bothered to tell him to stop. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, and knowing where his mouth had just been sent a nasty thrill through me.

  “Presentable?” I asked.

  “Just barely,” he said, handing me my sunglasses. He sounded rather pleased with himself at that, the asshole. “Keep those on and you’ll be fine.” He backed away from me slowly toward the door, eyes never leaving mine.

  “How did you know?” I asked, suddenly curious. “That it was us. That it was me here?”

  He smirked, that old familiar cocky thing that I both despised and adored. “I’ve been watching you for years,” he said, unbearably smug. “I would know you anywhere.”

  He was through the door before I could say anything more.

  “WHAT THE hell took you so long?” Agnes asked as I sat back down at the table. My skin was buzzing and I hazarded a glance over at Darren, only to see him staring directly at me even as Caleb continued to talk. “I was about to send a fucking search party.”

  “Sorry about that,” I said. “Unavoidably detained.”

  “In the bathroom?” Slim Trim asked.

  “Some things a lady never discusses,” I said primly.

  “I’ve heard you fart,” Agnes said. “You’re not a lady, trust me.”

  “Yes, well, be that as it may, I am here now and everything is fine.” I picked up my margarita and took an I was pretty much just rimmed drink of pure satisfaction.

  But leave it to Esteban Raymundo Moreno to point out what the others had missed. “What happened to your lipstick?” he asked.

  I choked on my margarita.

  “What?” I managed to say, recovering with as much grace and dignity as one can when tequila is coming out one’s nose.

  Esteban frowned. “You were wearing lipstick when you left. And now you don’t have any on.”

  Agnes narrowed her eyes at me. “He’s right.”

  “He could have just wiped it off when he went to the restroom,” Slim Trim said.

  “Thank you, Slim—”

  “Or,” Slim Trim said, “he could have gotten it sucked off his mouth!”

  Agnes, Esteban, and Slim Trim all gasped dramatically.

  “I did nothing of the sort!” I said.

  “Then how do you explain that hickey on your neck?” Slim Trim asked.

  “That motherfucker,” I hissed. “He couldn’t just leave it at rimming me in the alley through my underwear, he also had to mark me too? I’ll kill him.”

  “He did what to your where!” Agnes shrieked, causing everyone in the restaurant to stop what they were doing and stare at us.

  Darren, of course, still looked smug.

  “I was just kidding about the hickey,” Slim Trim said faintly.

  Esteban made the sign of the cross over his chest and raised his eyes skyward.

  “There’s no hickey?” I demanded.

  “None whatsoever,” Slim Trim said.

  “Well played,” I said, suitably impressed. “That was almost drag queen levels of deviousness. Way to go, baby doll.”

  “Thank you,” Slim Trim said. “Also, you were fucking rimmed in the alley?”

  There comes a time in every gay man’s life where he’s asked if he got rimmed in an alley behind a Mexican restaurant. It’s almost a rite of passage. When faced with such an overwhelming question, the instinct is to lie about it and say no, of course not, I would never do such a thing. But it’s a trap, because the whole point of being asked that question is to allow for a moment of honesty, especially when your best friends are dressed as a colorful pimp, an elderly woman, and a Hispanic cowboy.

  I owed it to them to be
honest.

  “Yes,” I said. “I was rimmed in the back alley next to a dumpster. And I liked it.”

  “But,” Esteban whimpered, “that’s my brother.”

  “Today has turned out to be a very eye-opening experience,” Slim Trim said.

  “He licked your butthole where Esteban and I had our first date?” Agnes growled. “How the fuck am I ever supposed to come back here again with him and not think about you getting your fucking ass licked by the Homo Jock King?”

  “Huh,” I said. “I didn’t even think of that.”

  “I didn’t even think of that,” he mocked, high-pitched and bitchy. It was really rather remarkable, especially given the bouffant. “Here I’m going to be, trying to eat my carne asada burrito and be with my fiancé, and all I’ll be able to think is how Darren put his tongue in your butt!”

  “Please stop saying that!” Esteban groaned.

  “We’ve had some complaints,” Santiago said, sliding up to the table. “This is a family restaurant and you are infecting the children with your sexy words.”

  “I will stab you in the uvula if you don’t walk away right this second,” Agnes snarled at him.

  “Walking away,” Santiago squeaked and did just that.

  “Agnes,” I said, reaching for his hand, “I’m sorry I ruined your date spot with public rimming.”

  “You should be.” Agnes sniffed. “It’s really unfair. You could have been rimmed anywhere you chose.”

  “I didn’t ask for it.”

  “Yes he did!” Darren called over. “Just not with words.”

  “I might have asked for it with my body. You know how my body is.” I frowned. “Wait, that didn’t sound right. Esteban, Agnes doesn’t know how my body is. Not in that way. I would never do anything with him like that. Only your brother.”

  Esteban’s mustache drooped. “That didn’t help like you think it did.”

  “Great!” I said, clapping my hands in front of my chest. “This has just been swell. Who’s hungry?”

  Chapter 22: The Queen & the Homo Jock King

  I WAS sitting at the vanity in the Lair, nervously trying not to check my phone as I waited. Paul, Vince, and Corey had already divested themselves of their alter egos and left me be. Paul had hugged me before he departed, whispering in my ear that he was happy for me and that I should allow myself to be happy too. He’d told me it was real, and that if needed, all I had to do was ask Darren and I’d see.

  And I wanted to.

  Very, very badly.

  Because removed from the situation, that random fever-dream of Darren eating me out in public, those old familiar doubts tried to make themselves known. That Darren didn’t actually want me. That this whole thing was a game. That he was going to be cruel to me again. That he only wanted the Helena part of me and not the Sandy. Helena was brash and fun and loud and didn’t give two shits about anything. Sandy wasn’t like that, not really. There was a clear division between my normal life and my queen life. And the one time I’d tried to present my normal life without any animosity toward Darren, he’d lashed out with harsh words that had set us against each other for years.

  I had questions, and I needed them answered.

  It wasn’t long before the door to the Lair opened again. The music in the club was prerecorded for this Sunday afternoon, the bar open downstairs and outside for the karaoke that Georgia O’Queef was covering for me. Day drinkers sang loudly and I could hear the bursts of laughter as they butchered their way through the song catalog.

  I didn’t turn when Darren walked in, staying where I was, facing the mirror on the vanity, my makeup wipes left unopened on the tabletop.

  He said, “Hey.”

  “Hi,” I murmured back, unable to meet his eyes in the mirror.

  I heard the door shut behind him and the telltale click of a lock sliding into place. I swallowed thickly but otherwise remained outwardly unaffected. Inside, I was pretty sure I was on my way to a meltdown and didn’t know how to stop it.

  “I figured it out,” he said, staying by the door. Which was probably for the best. For now.

  “Figured what out?”

  “Why you disappeared. Why you changed. Why you started acting like you didn’t give two shits about me. Right after Thanksgiving too.”

  “Oh,” I said, because apparently we were getting right into it.

  “There’s nothing between Caleb and I.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “There never was.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “He does. Almost from the very beginning.”

  “The texts. On your phone.”

  He let out a slow breath. “So that’s what it was. I should have known it—”

  “I didn’t mean to snoop,” I admitted. “I was picking up your phone to move it and I saw his name come up on the screen and before I knew what I was doing, I was reading the messages.”

  “So instead of asking me about them you… what. Assumed something and tried to push me away?” I could tell he was frustrated, and while I could admit that was mostly my doing, he wasn’t completely blameless, either.

  “You’d never given me a reason to trust you,” I said stiffly. “In fact, you did quite the opposite.”

  He laughed, but the edges were bitter, rough. “And that’s on me. I know that. I was stupid. I was young and cocky and so goddamned immature. I fucked up. I’m sorry. No one should ever be made to feel less than they are, and I’ve hated myself every day since that moment.”

  “Why?”

  “Did I do it?”

  “Yeah.” I finally looked up at him in the mirror, only to see him looking sad, arms crossed protectively over his chest. He was staring down at the floor, shoulders slumped.

  “Because I was an asshole,” he finally said. “Still am, if we’re being honest.”

  “We are,” I said. “Because that’s all that will be acceptable from here on out.”

  He nodded, but still didn’t look up. “I thought I was better than everyone else. I thought I was the motherfucking shit. I thought I could get away with doing whatever I wanted to whoever I wanted. I liked you, but the only way I knew how to show that was to be a dick. That, and the fact I was with the other homo jocks, it just snowballed from there. I thought I was being funny.”

  “You weren’t.”

  “I know that,” he said. “The moment the words left my mouth, I knew that.”

  “You made me feel like I was worthless.”

  His arms tightened around him.

  “You made me feel like I was nothing.”

  His shoulders tensed.

  “I accept your apology.”

  He looked up, eyes wide and shocked. “What?”

  I shrugged. “I forgive you for being a dickbag.” I was surprised how easy it was.

  “Why?”

  “Would you prefer I didn’t?”

  “No,” he said hastily. “No, that’s perfectly fine. That’s better than fine. That’s… that’s good.”

  I snorted, trying to ignore my happily fluttering heart because as much as I wanted to believe, I was not a Disney Princess, for fuck’s sake. If anything, I was the evil queen, but even evil queens should get their happily-ever-after butt sex.

  “The texts?”

  He took a step toward me now, slowly and cautiously, which, honestly, was slightly ridiculous, given the fact that he licked my asshole an hour before in public. I almost laughed at him, unable to keep down this giddy feeling that was burning through me. There was still much I had to say to him, things I needed to know. And I thought there was a very real chance I might get to hear it, if I could simply get over my hang-ups and just ask.

  “The money,” Darren said. “It was all about the money. Caleb invented this app for iPhones that stores burrito recipes or solves world hunger. Or something. I don’t really know. All that mattered was that he is rich and wanted me to fuck him. I corrected the second thing while asking for the first. I know
that there’s a very real chance that my dad will beat us, but I wanted to make sure I did what I could to help you save this place. I know what it means to you. I know it belongs to you just as much as it did Vaguyna, and I didn’t want to see you lose that.”

  I took in a sharp breath.

  “And I told him to bid on me,” he continued. “For as much as he could. I agreed to go on a date with him, and yes, he tried to make it more, but I shut that down. Quickly. He knows where I belong. And who I belong with.”

  It made sense. It was an easy explanation. And as much as I wanted to push him on it, I didn’t have the strength to do so anymore. I was tired of fighting against what I wanted. I was tired of lying. Telling myself I didn’t feel the way I did about him. Telling him I hated him. And worse, acting like I did.

  “Mike said something to me,” I said, and Darren was right behind me. I could see his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to reach out and touch me but couldn’t quite get himself to do so.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said you were always here. At every one of my shows.”

  He blushed, and it was probably the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. “I was. I am.” He coughed and scratched the back of his neck. “I will be.”

  “I’m not her,” I said quietly, watching his reaction in the mirror. “Not all the time. Not even most of the time. I can’t be Helena. It takes too much out of me.”

  He finally met my gaze, looking confused. “Why would I….” He shook his head. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

  “Hey!” I said, glaring at him. “What the fuck! You’re supposed to be wooing me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You already said you were wooed when I ate you out behind Poco’s.”

  “Wow, that’s not a sentence I ever expected to hear anyone say to me,” I marveled.

  Darren grinned. “I aim to please.”

  “There has to be continuous wooing,” I said. “You should know right now that I am high-maintenance, and I have absolutely no plans in changing that.”

  “Really,” he said dryly. “I couldn’t have guessed that just by looking at you.”