No Tears with Him

by K. Webster

  “I’m glad you approve,” I say with a smile. “Want another round?”

  He chews on the inside of his lip. “I probably shouldn’t.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “I’m a responsible adult now and I have work tomorrow.”

  I grin wolfishly at him. “I bet your boss has a meeting outside of the city in the morning, so he probably won’t be by until closer to noon to pick you up. Plenty of time to ‘work at home.’”

  “You’re a bad influence on me,” he says, shaking his head, his smile wide.

  “And you’re a good influence on me. It’s all about balance, kid.” I wave over the waitress. “Another couple of shots and more beer.”

  She gives me a nod and scurries off.

  “She’s pretty, huh?” he asks, his brows furrowed together as he watches the redhead behind the bar.

  “Yeah, but she’s not my type.”

  He snaps his gaze my way, cocking his head slightly. His glasses are slightly askew on his broad nose and I have to tighten my fist to keep from reaching across the table to straighten them. In the end, my urge to touch him wins out. I lean forward, brushing his cheek with my fingers, and straighten his glasses.

  “What’s your type?” he asks, his voice husky. His eyes are closed and I allow my touch on his cheek to linger. I brush my fingers along his jaw before reluctantly pulling away.

  “I’m bisexual, Mal.”

  His eyes pop open and his lips part. Fuck, his mouth does things to me. “Bisexual? I, uh, I’ve never met anyone who likes boys and girls.”

  A chuckle escapes me. “Well, I like men and women, not boys and girls. And we’re more common than you think. We’ve been oppressed for a long time, but we’re starting to make a name for ourselves right alongside the transgenders, lesbians, and gays.”

  “Transgenders? Like chicks with dicks?”

  I have to remind myself he’s young and inexperienced. Letting out a heavy sigh, I rub the back of my neck before speaking. “There’s a whole lot of physiology and psychology missing in that question. Transgenders…they have their own stories to tell. They’re more than just a narrow-minded category of boys in dresses or girls who cut their hair wishing they were boys.”

  Surprising me, he reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be offensive.” He lets out a sigh before pulling his hand away. “Mom is narrow-minded. I’ve been sheltered, in case you couldn’t tell.”

  “But Madden wasn’t?”

  He bristles. “Madden was always his own person. I was always Mom’s baby boy.”

  “There’s a huge parade in November I was planning on attending because it aligns with the Philly Business Innovators conference. You could come with me. Plus, since it’s the Philly Black Gay Pride parade, it might be better if I had a black friend with me.”

  His eyes widen. “W-Wait. I’m not…Scott, I’m not…”

  “Black?” I joke.

  The redhead brings us back our drinks. With a shaky hand, he slams back his shot and then chases it with his beer. He scowls, unable to meet my stare.

  “Hey,” I say, nudging his foot with mine under the table. “I wasn’t implying anything other than I think it’d be fun to go to and experience. You said you were sheltered. This is getting out there and experiencing other things in life. And I was joking about the black. I’m going regardless. Black or white, the gays are a welcoming bunch.”

  “But you’re bi,” he counters. “Why would they want you there?”

  Stung by his words, I withdraw and stare down at my shot glass. There’s often a stigma with bisexuals. That we don’t choose a side. But, like being gay or straight or transgender, it’s not our fault we’re attracted to more than one sex. We choose both sides. To me, it depends on the person no matter what reproductive organs are in their body.

  “God,” he groans. “I’m so sorry. Who knew I was a mean drunk? I’m just like my dad.”

  I lift my stare to find him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. With my eyes on his, I suck down the shot and then chase it with my beer. I slap down a wad of bills and nod to the door. “Let’s get out of here and walk off that meanness, kid.”

  As soon as we push outside, the chilly air assaults us, making us both curse. Malcolm flips the collar of his coat and lifts his shoulders, hiding inside. It’s cute.

  “Need me to warm you up?” I tease, flashing him a wicked grin.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “Nice try. Now that I know you’re bi, I know I’m up for grabs.”

  “Are you? Up for grabs?”

  “I’m not…” he trails off again, unable to finish his statement. “I don’t know what I am.”

  “Is that such a bad thing?”

  He looks down at his feet and shivers. “I don’t want to mess up.”

  “By following how you feel?”

  “What if it’s wrong? What if I choose the wrong path and lose my mother’s love and respect over an experiment?”

  His words remind me of when I was sixteen and battling my own emotions. It’s hard navigating those waters alone.

  But Mal’s not alone.

  He has me.

  Grabbing his cold hand, I drag him into an alley. He yelps when I push his body against the wall, pinning his waist with mine. I bring my chilly hands to his cheeks, cupping his face. His eyes, even in the dark alley, glimmer with indecision.

  “We could experiment together,” I offer. “Your mom would never have to know.” God, I sound like some pervert trying to lure a kid into a van.

  His eyes drop to my lips. “I’ve never been kissed.”

  My dick hardens at his words. I can tell he can feel it because soon I’m not the only one hard. I slightly rock my hips, reveling in the groan that escapes him.

  “Can I kiss you, Mal?”

  “What if I do it wrong?”

  “You worry too much.”

  Rather than giving him an opportunity to talk himself out of it, I press my lips to his. They’re cold and soft, but taste manly like shots of tequila and cheap beer. He moans and I choose that moment to dart my tongue inside his mouth, to really taste him.

  Fuck, he’s addictive.

  Somehow, beyond the taste of pizza and liquor, I can taste that sweet flavor of Mountain Dew. My tongue lashes at his and his grip on my coat tightens. Soon, he understands that kissing is easy and joins in, tasting me too. I’m unable to keep from grinding my hips against his, eager for the friction against his impressive dick.

  “Someone’s coming,” he whispers, turning his head toward the sound.

  I suck on the flesh below his ear and nip at his ear. He practically melts in my grip. Good to know he likes that. I’m about to suck on his earlobe again when something hits me in the back. A bottle bursts at my feet, soaking over my loafers.

  “What the—” I start.

  “Fucking faggots,” someone slurs. “Go find a rest stop to fuck at and leave our city alone.”

  I jerk away from Malcolm to find the source of the bigot asshole. He stumbles away, but not before I shove him.

  “You want to say that to my face, motherfucker?” I roar, bursting with rage.

  The man tries to stand and falls. I want to kick him in his stupid face, but something holds me back. Literally. Malcolm grabs my hand and tugs me around the guy. We make it back onto the sidewalk. I’m fuming and ready to pummel that guy, but Mal is firm in his efforts to drag me away. He waves a hand in the air and flags down a yellow cab.

  “Mal,” I groan. “I’m sorry.”

  He clutches the front of my coat and looks me in the eyes. “We shouldn’t have done that. You’re drunk. So am I. Just go home and I’ll see you at noon tomorrow.”

  “I need to make sure you get home okay,” I say, a pleading tone in my voice.

  He releases me to open the car door. “I can handle myself. Go home, Scott.”

  I want to kiss him again, but the moment is ruined.

  “I’m
sorry,” I say again as I slump down into the seat.

  “See you tomorrow, boss.”

  Malcolm

  Am I gay?

  I asked Jeeves, but all he had to offer were links to gay pride parades. I suppose that’s my sign. Last night, with Scott’s insistent lips on mine, I’d felt anything but straight. My body came alive at his touch. I wanted…everything from him. But those feelings were squashed the moment the drunk called us faggots.

  Cringing, I try to swallow down the way that made me feel.

  Sick. Embarrassed. Horrible.

  It’s nineteen friggin’ ninety-nine, for crying out loud.

  I still have some time before Scott shows to pick me up for work. The house is quiet since Mom is at work, Madden is somewhere, and the girls are at school. I decide to figure out my feelings once and for all. I know Madden keeps a bunch of porn mags stuffed in the front closet in a backpack. I found them while looking for my winter gloves a couple months ago. They’re like every issue of Hustler—a magazine full of mostly white chicks—but it’ll do.

  The house seems to creak and groan more when it’s quiet. Quickly, I run to the closet, grab one of the magazines from the bunch, and run back to my room. Once the door is locked behind me, I stare down at the magazine. It’s the issue from a year ago, last January. A brunette stares seductively at the camera, holding her breasts. My eyes darts from her to one of the articles: Drag Queens Want Real Guys.

  I think about my comment from the night before and how upset it made Scott. Guilt ripples through me. I do what every man claims—open Hustler to read the articles. But, unlike those liars, I really am here for this article. It’s an interesting article and soon my curiosity has me flipping pages. I set the magazine down on the bed beside me before unzipping my khakis. Pulling my cock out, I stare down at it. Limp and uninterested. Letting out a heavy sigh, I fall back on the bed. My mind drifts to the way Scott devoured me in that alley. Nipping and sucking and tasting. God, it was amazing.

  I groan to realize my dick is hard as stone now.

  Thinking about him.

  Bright green eyes, sexy mouth, deep laugh.

  I stroke my cock to the memory of our kiss. To the way he ground his erection against mine. Had that drunk not interrupted, I would’ve probably come in my pants. With my eyes closed, I try to imagine him in my bed with me. He’s bigger than me and stronger, but I like that about him. Would he hold me close, rubbing his naked body against mine as we kissed? Is he a gentle lover who would teach me along the way or would he pin me down and take what he wants? I’m opposed to neither. In fact, thoughts of him holding my wrists down as he drives into my asshole make me moan in pleasure. I jerk fast and hard, loving this fantasy.

  “Oh, fuck,” I breathe, my heart racing out of my chest.

  I sit up and squirt a little lotion into my hand before rubbing it all over my dick. Fuck yes, that feels good. My eyes snap shut as I imagine pushing my dick into his smiling mouth. Feeling the throaty hum of his voice as he appreciates the thickness violating him.

  “Scott, fuck,” I moan, jerking harder than before. When my nuts seize up violently, I cry out, releasing my cum. It soaks my Polo and I don’t even get mad that I’ll have to change.

  Relaxing against the bed, I rub my thumb over the tip of my dick, smearing my cum over the crown. I still have another hour or so before Scott gets here. My dick is already twitching back to life, eager for a round two. Mom would absolutely kill me if she knew I was home jacking off to thoughts of my boss whom I made out with last night.

  Ding-dong!

  I jolt upright, panicked. Quickly, I grab some tissues and clean off my dick before shoving it back in my khakis. I rush over to the window and nearly choke in horror to see a familiar white Land Cruiser in the driveway.

  “No,” I whine, overcome with embarrassment. I swipe my hands clean with some tissue and toss it all in the bin beside my bed before rushing to greet him. Sucking in a deep breath, I try to calm myself.

  Ding-dong!

  Oh God.

  I twist the knob and yank the door open, eager to get this over with. Scott stands on my porch looking too good in his pea coat and wearing his standard easygoing smile. Those lips. I kissed those lips.

  “Spill something?” he asks, dipping his gaze down to my shirt.

  No.

  Oh. My. God.

  “Y-Yes,” I stammer. “Let me, uh, change.”

  He grabs my hand before I can pull away. The same hand I just jacked off with. Oh my God!

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Why are you here so early?” I blurt out, tears of embarrassment prickling at my eyes.

  He recoils at my question, making me feel like the biggest asshole on the planet. “I wanted to check on you to make sure…you know. After last night.”

  “I’m fine,” I clip out before pulling away from his grip and rushing back to my room.

  I’ve just yanked off my Polo and stormed into my closet when I hear his voice again.

  “Hustler, huh?” He chuckles. “My mom used to freak whenever she’d find these stuffed under the mattress.”

  “It’s my brother’s,” I defend, my voice shaking.

  He steps into view as he blatantly checks out my naked upper half. A smile tugs at his lips. “I knew you were hiding the goods under those Polos.”

  This guy!

  “Why are you so forward?” I demand, jerking the Polo over my head.

  “I’m the kind of guy who sees what he wants and goes after it. No sense in denying how I feel.”

  Turning away from him, I unbuckle my pants so I can tuck in my shirt. Once I have my pants refastened, I turn around. He stands in the doorway of the closet, his hands gripping the doorframe above him as he watches me with a playful smirk.

  “Last night…” I trail off. It wasn’t a mistake. I won’t lie to either of us. “Last night was difficult.” Not a lie.

  His smug smile is wiped away, replacing it with concern. “Shit, Mal, I’m sorry. I hate the way that guy invaded in our time. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

  It felt right in that moment.

  He approaches me in the closet, his green eyes drinking me in. I can’t help but melt our proximity. He takes my hand—yes, that hand—again and squeezes it.

  “I should have protected you better. Kissing you out in the open was unfair to you. I’m sorry about that.” He frowns and licks his lips in a nervous, but endearing way. “I know what you’re going through. Hell, I went through it once. We’re both at different stages, but neither of us can deny the pull. You feel it?”

  “No,” I lie.

  He smirks. “Really?” His body presses against mine and he brings his mouth to my ear, making me shiver. “Feel the way all your nerve endings come alive? How your breath quickens and your heart races? Feel the way you desperately want to lean in and hold on?”

  God, he’s good.

  Straight access to my brain.

  “I, uh, I feel it,” I admit.

  “Me too.” His voice is husky. “It’s the pull, Mal. We’d be idiots not to see where the pull took us.” He presses a soft kiss to my neck. “You got anything better to do than experiment with your feelings and desires? I’m safe. I’m not some guy you met at a club. I’m Scott. Your goofy boss and friend.” Nothing feels goofy about the way his tongue drags a wet line along the column of my neck to my earlobe. His breath is hot and sends currents of desire straight to my cock. “You don’t have to play with your cock, fantasizing about what could be.” He rubs his thumb along my palm, smearing the leftover lotion there. “I could do it for you.”

  It’s then, I give in.

  He must sense it too because his mouth is on mine, gently pushing me against the wall in the closet. I groan against his insistent mouth, eager to taste every inch of him. His palm makes it to my ass and he squeezes hard.

  “Oh, God,” I rasp out, my heart skyrocketing.

  “Feel how hard you make me, Mal?” He gri
nds against me to punctuate his words. “You do this to me. You drive me crazy.”

  It feels good.

  Really good.

  My fantasies don’t feel like something dirty or wrong or unattainable right now. No, they are sounding like a reality I want to know.

  He tugs at my bottom lip with his teeth. “This bottom lip is going to be the death of me. It’s plump as fuck. I love it.”

  I smile as he nips at it again.

  The smile is wiped off when I hear the front door slam.

  “Whose damn car is taking up the whole driveway?” Madden calls out as he enters the house.

  “No,” I croak out, pushing past Scott into my bedroom. He follows me out just as Madden enters the room.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Madden demands, his face screwed up in confusion.

  “Madden!” I bark out. “Don’t be rude. This is my boss.”

  Madden’s upper lip curls as he sneers. “Ahh, the guy who put my brother on a leash.”

  I cringe, hating the way Madden speaks to him, but before I can open my mouth, Scott thrusts his hand out.

  “Scott Hawkins of the Hawkins Group. Pleased to meet the brother of my new employee.” Scott’s smile is broad, but it’s not a genuine one like he gives me.

  My brother, never one to back down from anything, even a simple handshake, takes his offered hand and shakes it briefly.

  “Madden Shaw. Is there a reason why you’re hanging out in my baby brother’s bedroom at eleven thirty on a Thursday? Shouldn’t you two be at work?”

  This is it.

  Where Madden discovers all my dirty little secrets.

  I’m frozen, shame melting my lips together.

  “He was showing me some other graphics on his computer that we could use for potential clients. Excellent work. You should be proud of this guy,” Scott says, squeezing my shoulder.

  I stand a little straighter at his praise. “I was showing him that with code, simple graphics can become moving ones.” Apparently I can lie too.

  Madden darts his gaze between us before landing on the bed. He relaxes as he walks over and snatches up the Hustler magazine. “Mom will lose her mind if she catches you with this shit. See you guys later. I have to run some errands for Mom.”