by Jo Raven
And do what? He said he’s working on getting his GED, but that’s not done in a day. He wanted this job because of Candy. He’d told me about this girl he’d met at the concert and how she gave him the business card to the shop.
Told me later he had no idea it was nerdy girl. I mean, yeah, how could he know?
This is fucked up.
And I can’t help him unless he comes back and talks to me. Not sure I can help him, in fact. But at least I can see if he needs help with the lessons and if he needs to talk about anything. Sometimes he does. I hope he didn’t go out to get shitfaced on his own.
He’d better come back soon before I start working on getting drunk myself.
***
I’m slightly buzzed by the time the key turns in the lock. It’s late. I mute the sound on the TV and raise my whiskey glass at Jet, who staggers inside, blinking owlishly at me.
“S’up, mate?” he slurs, dropping his keys on the table and plopping down beside me. He slings an arm over my shoulders and grins widely, his eyes half-closing. “Didn’t think you’d be here.”
“I was waiting for you.” Looks like he started drinking without me. His breath smells lightly of alcohol.
“What for?”
“You left work early.”
He pulls away, his grin slipping. “You’re not my dad, J.”
And then he gives a violent shudder and pushes off the couch, swaying on his feet.
I stare at him. I’ve never met Jet’s parents. Not even when we were in school. Whenever I asked about his family, he gave me some vague reply.
“I’m gonna turn in,” he says, his back stiff and shoulders hunched. “Next time don’t wait up.”
“Dammit.” I get up, a little unsteadily, banging my glass on the coffee table. “Jet.”
He doesn’t reply, and I follow him to his bedroom where he’s pulling off his T-shirt and unbuckling his belt while rummaging for something in his closet.
I tap him on the shoulder. “Jet?”
He jumps back, slamming his elbow into my stomach and shoving me backward. “Fuck!”
Ow, goddammit. I grab his arm as I stumble back, pulling him with me. He rips his arm free of my hold, trips over his feet and falls.
Time seems to stop.
His eyes are very dark and wide as he drops, his mouth open.
Then his skull cracks on the floor, his eyes fall shut, and his body goes slack, sprawled on the carpet.
Son of a bitch. “Jet!” I drop to my knees and wonder what I should do. Oh fuck, oh fuck! I grab his shoulders. “Jet, can you hear me?”
A low groan and his eyes flutter open. “Ugh.” He blinks at me. “Not fuckin’ deaf.”
“Jet.” A laugh escapes me. “Dammit, asshole, you scared me. Can you move?”
He lifts his hand, and I clasp it in mine. I haul him to a sitting position, and he lists to the side, face paling.
“Come on, I’m taking you to the ER.” I walk him to the bed and seat him down on it. “You cracked your head pretty hard on the floor.”
“I’ve got a thick skull,” he mutters, his grip tightening on my arm. “Not going anywhere.”
Stubborn idiot. “I wasn’t asking you.”
“Fuck you, J.” His hand tightens on my arm, grinding my bones together. “I’m fine.”
Is he, though? “Will you let me take care of your pigheaded ass?”
“Nobody can take care of me.” Quiet. Too quiet.
I ignore that. “Why did you leave work early? Was it because of the diploma thing?”
“Fuck, you spoke to Candy.”
“Talk to me, motherfucker.”
He snorts, shakes his head. “I’m a loser, man. I’ll get fired. I’m not ready to take the damn GED exams yet. I shouldn’t have thought the likes of me can work in a shop like that.”
“Shut up, dude. You’re bright. You can do this. Let me help you. Just…” Fuck. “Just don’t shut me out. You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Anything?”
He won’t look up.
My hands are shaking. I’m shaking. Looking down at his dark head, I find myself lifting a hand to touch his wild spikes. Not stiff with gel as I expected, but soft. My fingers burrow in his hair, and I tug lightly, pulling his head back.
He looks up at me and swallows hard, his neck arched.
Bared.
A sudden urge to bite down and suck on it hits me out of nowhere, and my insides tighten. My dick stirs, starting to harden.
I jerk away from him, wipe my hands on my pants. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” He leans back, bracing his hands on the mattress, and looks at me, a long, steady stare, out of place on someone half-drunk who’s just gotten a hit to the head. “What do you want, J?”
“I don’t like guys,” I blurt out, although my dick is fully hard now, painfully trapped behind my zipper. “Okay? I don’t.”
“Got it.” Lazily he reaches down and rubs his hand over his crotch. “It’s okay. I also happen to like chicks more. They’re so soft and warm.”
Oh my fuck, he’s hardening, too, and the bolt of heat to my cock is scorching.
Then his words sink in. “What do you mean, you like chicks more?”
He’s still stroking himself through his black jeans, eyes hooded. Waiting for me to figure it out.
“You’re bisexual,” I say slowly, breathing out, my mind a jumble. “You never said anything.”
He shoots me a defiant glare, cupping his hard-on, his cheekbones coloring. “You’re not exactly open to the idea of men together.”
“The hell. I’ve got nothing against it.”
He looks away, lips pressing together, brows knitting. He’s angry, but I have no fucking clue what he’s thinking.
My own thoughts are a mess. Does that mean he wants me? And what am I gonna do with that?
“It doesn’t matter to me,” I try again. “If you like guys. But I don’t.”
“I know. You want Candy.”
“Yeah.”
“So call her. Invite her over.”
I blink. “What?”
“Invite her over.”
He’s giving me whiplash. “The hell I will. I told you I can’t.” I push my hair out of my eyes, frustrated. “Can’t get off.”
“You did the other night, with me. Watching that video. Watching as that guy fucked the girl so hard, and we jacked off together.”
His naked body arching beside me, his hand a blur over his cock. His other hand reaching for my hard-on—
Gritting my teeth, I push down on my over-excited cock. I’m so hard it fucking hurts. “Stop.”
“You asked for my help. Let me help.” He sits up, the ink rippling on his chest and arms. “Don’t you see? You like to watch. To direct.”
“Yeah.” My dick gives an appreciative twitch at the thought. “But what—?”
“Imagine that you’re directing me. And her. Fuck, imagine that, J… Tell me what to do.”
Ah hell. I watch helplessly as he reaches into his pants and pulls out his hard cock, as he squeezes it, as his tongue peeks out between his lips.
“I’d have her sit on my lap,” he says, his voice dropping, his eyes closing. “On my cock. Pull her down with me. Tell me.”
“Fuck, I can’t…” I need to come. My brain is fizzling, on overload.
“Tell me, J. Need this.”
Hell. I fumble with my zipper, grip my cock and swallow a moan. “Rip off her bra. Suck… suck on her tits. Fuck…” My cock is hot and heavy in my hand. My knees feel weak. “Fuck her, Jet…”
“I’m fucking her.” His hand is stroking faster now, sliding up and down his dick. “Fucking her hard. Damn, she’s so tight, J… I barely fit inside her. You should join us. Gnh…” His head falls back, mouth half-open. “Tell me more.”
“Shit. Lie on your back. Have her ride you. Fill her up. Slap her ass, oh God…” My dick swells in my hand, dribbling precum. I’ll fall if I don’t sit down, so I lower myself g
ingerly on the edge of the bed.
With Jet lying down on his back right beside me, like I told him to, his gaze fixed on my cock, his teeth biting into his lower lip as he jacks himself off frantically.
A sheen of sweat covers his bare upper body. His strong chest is rising and falling fast, his breathing is labored. His dick is slick and wet, the head disappearing into his fist, then sliding out again, flushed dark.
“I’m fucking her so damn hard,” he pants, and I can’t take my eyes off him, even as my balls draw up, tight and hot. “She wants you, J. I could get her ready for you. Tell me what you want.”
This is insane. My hand is strangling my dick, and my stomach is clenched so hard I know I’m about to come, his words playing over and over in my mind.
Jet fucking Candy.
Candy riding him.
Me, taking over, fucking her from behind.
Us. Together.
No fucking way. No way, this could never happen, this is…
I come so hard I see white, my cock jerking in my hand, my cum bursting hot from the tip. Groaning, I hunch over and shake with the force of it as I spray my load over my hand, the sheets and half the bed.
“Ah yeah. Fuck.” Jet’s hips lift off the bed, and he comes all over his chest in long strings of white. “Shit.”
What the fuck just happened? I stare at him, his lean, strong form laid out, the cum on his chest, then down at myself, my still semi-hard cock in my hand, my spunk all over.
Jet is bisexual. He proposed a threesome with me and Candy. And we just jacked off together.
Again.
I came. The evidence is covering half the bed. I got off to this fantasy with my best friend, who more or less admitted to wanting me, when I couldn’t get off while fucking girls for the past year.
I’m not even sure what I’m doing or where the hell I’m going as I get up and pull up my pants, but the walls are closing in around me. I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.
So that’s what I do.
Chapter Twelve
JETHRO
“You’re a fucking idiot, Jet,” Joel says, like always, but sometimes it stings.
Because he doesn’t mean it, but he’s right. I want things, hope for things that can’t happen, and no matter how often life screws me over, I still get up and try again.
Like the time my dad decided to slap me around for asking for ice cream one Sunday morning. It didn’t stop me from asking again. I wanted ice cream too much.
Same with Joel. I want him too much to stop, no matter how many times I slam into a wall.
It’s fucked up.
The door slams shut after him, and then it’s quiet.
I lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Counting the ways I’ve been a fucking idiot these past days.
Today.
With Candy. With Joel. The ways I had my way with them, touched them when I knew I shouldn’t have. Pushing the boundaries until they push back and I land on my face, like every time.
Until I lose those I care for. Everyone leaves sooner or later. Everything crumples. Who would stick around me? Not even Joel has that patience, and he’s lasted longer than I thought.
Shit, why did I tell him the truth? I haven’t told anyone I like both guys and girls. And why did I tell him to invite Candy? What the hell was I thinking?
He came, though. He came hard. As he’d been looking at me. Telling me what to do. Participating in the fantasy.
And my dick is hardening again at the memory. Jesus fuck. Between Candy at the store and Joel at home, I’ve been in a state of permanent arousal for the past weeks. My dick hurts from being hard all the goddamn time. From jacking off to thoughts of them both.
And it’s not enough.
With a groan, I roll off the bed, landing on my feet and stumbling to the bathroom to clean up the cum cooling on my chest in a sticky mess.
‘Mess’ seems to be the code word for my life lately. Goddammit.
Shedding my boots, socks and jeans, I step into the shower and turn my face into the warm water, letting it beat down on me.
Joel can’t hide how his body reacts to me. He’s not as straight as he’d like to believe. He may like chicks more than boys, but there’s a spark when his gaze moves over my body. Hell, he was the one who touched my hair and didn’t hesitate to jerk off with me when I suggested it.
He was so hot, beating his meat, standing in front of me… Taking control. The idea of him holding me in place as Candy rides me… Fucking her from behind as I fuck her from the front… And then, oh shit, my most secret of fantasies:
Joel grabbing my hips. Pushing me onto the bed. Roughly opening me up with his fingers. Ordering me to fuck Candy as he watches, as he keeps fingerfucking me, and then finally losing control, pushing into me from behind, fucking me as I fuck her.
Shit. I slam my fist against the tiled wall, blink water from my eyes, turn off the shower and grab a towel. He doesn’t know, can’t know how much I need him to grip me, overwhelm me, brand me. Ensure I belong to him. In every fucking way.
I can barely acknowledge it myself.
It doesn’t make wanting girls, wanting Candy, any less urgent. If anything, I need her more with every passing day. Her touch, her mouth, her body, her smiles. I need them both. Hard and soft, strong and warm. Filling all the holes in me, all the voids left from my past.
Making me whole.
Selfish. I’m so selfish. I rub the towel over my head and throw it to the floor in disgust. Only thinking of what I need, what I want.
But I’m fully hard now, thinking of the both of them, and I brace a hand on the sink to grip my dick, to ease some of the pressure. I’m so hard you wouldn’t think I just came like a fountain on the bed, yet here I am.
Though a handjob won’t be enough this time, I can feel it. The need is rising, worse than ever, consuming me. Dammit, is it wrong to want it?
With a curse, I push off the sink and stumble into my room. I throw the closet doors open and rummage inside for my box, the one I came looking for when Joel surprised me earlier.
Grabbing it, I plonk it on my bed and sink down beside it, fisting my cock and biting back a moan at the sparks running up my spine.
I lift a bottle of lube out of the box, and then a long, black object. It’s a slim, long dildo. I cast another look inside, at my small collection of toys, but this one will do for today.
Fuck, I almost had a heart attack when Joel sat on it by mistake that day. Serves me right for leaving my things lying around.
Swallowing hard, I clutch the dildo in one hand, study it like I’ve never seen it before. Like it hasn’t been inside me many times already.
I grab the bottle and spread lube on it, then lean back. My cock is rock hard, leaking on my stomach. My abs clench in anticipation. I brush the lubed head of the dildo over my balls, press behind them, and a shiver wracks me.
In my mind’s eye, Joel is kneeling between my legs, that intense look in his eyes, his hand on his hard-on, guiding it into me.
Give it to me, J. Fight me. Take me. Defeat me.
That’s what my body demands. I push the dildo into my ass, groaning, my teeth gritting at the intrusion.
Always a shock to my system. Always feels like a mistake at first, and then like the answer. The right answer. Part of it, anyway. A puzzle piece that was missing before.
My dick jerks as the dildo fills me up, and my breath catches.
Yeah, this. This is almost what I need.
Almost.
I pull the rubber cock out of me, push it back inside, and my head falls back at the sensation. Yeah, goddammit.
That’s something I discovered these past months: handjobs are okay, but my body is craving more, and if I can’t have another body giving it to me, if Joel won’t give it to me, then I have to do it myself.
Have to feel myself stretched, filled, topped. Overcome. Overpowered.
I wish Joel would let me show him. Play with him. I wish he’d cla
im me.
I wish Candy would hold me as he does, that she’d ride me and take me inside her. Fold me into her.
That I’d be fucking crushed between them. Punished and accepted. Lost in the pleasure and heat that’s spreading down my dick into my balls, that’s tearing me apart as the dildo brushes that spot inside me that makes me see stars.
I arch helplessly on the bed, my cock swelling more, tightening to the point of pain, and I fist it, stroke it, a wail leaving my throat when it jerks in my hand.
All this tension of the past weeks, all this unrequited lust. It bursts out of me in burning pleasure, hot cum coating my chest, hitting my chin.
Yes. Give it to me. Fuck me, dammit, J.
But he’s not here. Nobody’s here, and after it’s over, I curl on my side, throwing an arm over my eyes. They sting.
No, goddammit. I shouldn’t allow myself to sink. I really should stop torturing myself like that. Stop imagining he’d be like this with me.
It’s just sometimes I wish… I wish I didn’t feel so damn alone.
***
“You okay?” Candy asks me next day at work. It’s Saturday, and we’re busy, people stepping in and out of the shop, checking out books and stationary.
“Sure.”
Except for the near-blinding headache, and the way the room spins sometimes when I look up too fast, I’m peachy. Pity-party is over. My fault if I can’t accept things as they are, if I can’t appreciate how lucky I am. It’s as if I’ve forgotten how my life was a few years ago.
Can’t let that happen again. Need to remember, always remember, and be fucking grateful.
“You left suddenly yesterday. Is everything okay?”
I turn and start walking toward a customer who just entered. Her concern both burns and soothes, and I want it way too much. “Fine.”
Pushing away what I want is second nature. I often fail, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. Because what you really want will end up killing you. From the inside. Slowly.
I’m done with death.
The problem of the fucking GED, though, remains, and when Donna finds me later on, I tense up. She only nods at me and continues toward her office, leaving me to sag against a bookshelf.
I need to study, get a few more books I need. It was never urgent. I never needed a diploma to work in bars and coffee shops, so I never made it a priority.
