Blue didn’t wake when Heydn lifted him to his bed. Heydn closed the laptop and went to his side of the room. He used his underwear to clean up with and tossed them in a ball at the end of the bed. Sleep was not far off, but he had time to enjoy the hope that it might be different here after all.
Forthe remaining eight days of summer break, Heydn and Blue were nearly inseparable around the deserted campus of the Acton-Pierce Academy and Audley Cove, the nearby small New England town. They made forays for supplies, but spent most of their time in the dorm watching videos and gorging on snack food. Neither mentioned it, but both knew that at some point late in the evening, they’d be hauling out their dicks and whacking off. Blue’s spit would dry up as he clicked the yaoi video file and settled back with studied indifference, not daring to look at Heydn until he was sure his new friend was engrossed. Only then would Blue slide a hand under his waistband and take hold of his hard cock. And he was hard more often than not these days.
He and the shy guy from Texas were a pack of two and the world was a lot less scary, a little smaller, and much, much brighter with a friend. Little by little, Blue lowered the shields of apathy and disdain he carried to show those who rejected him that he didn’t want their approval in the first place. The first time Heydn reached over and covered Blue’s hand with his, Blue had climaxed and managed to laugh at himself along with Heydn. After that, they weren’t shy about giving each other a helping hand, in Heydn’s tacky words. Emboldened, Blue leaned over one night in post-orgasmic bliss and touched his lips to Heydn’s cheek, sliding sideways until he found his mouth. Heydn didn’t even flinch. He grabbed Blue by the back of the neck and returned the kiss with enthusiasm. Blue didn’t know for sure if he was gay or not, but given the way that kiss made him feel, it seemed like a safe bet. No matter what it was called, he was certain that he loved Heydn Case.
Each day deepened their friendship, and each night was filled with new wonders of sensual pleasure. And then fall fell on them. The venerable stone quadrangles of the campus with their neat squares of carefully tended grass around ancient oaks rang to the shouts of returning students greeting friends they hadn’t seen all summer. The raftered halls echoed with the shuffling and scraping of baggage being dragged along the 150-year-old wooden floors. To Blue, it was the equivalent of an inimical alien invasion, a very real war of the worlds, but this year, he wouldn’t face it alone.
Chapter 2 “Who’sthe lame?” Peyton Crane asked in his supremely bored drawl. Blue sat one row down from Peyton and twisted in his seat to face the other young man. The auditorium was empty except for the drama teacher and one of his familiars fussing around with the curtain. “I still haven’t developed psychic powers, Peyn,” he said. “Which lame are you referring to? This school abounds in Abercrombie zombies. It makes me glad we wear uniforms most of the time.”
Peyton, who fancied himself the Oscar Wilde of Acton-Pierce, tilted his chin up and regarded Blue down his aristocratic nose. “A pink polo shirt and a popped collar and you’re suitably attired for anything from touch football at the clambake to a wedding reception at the yacht club. This fashion tip endorsed by Astor Q. Aldrich, Prince of Preppies.”
“You should use that in your column.”
“Is the school paper ready for such a controversial subject? I know Mr. Carmichael would approve it, but Drexel Ewing is editor this year.”
“Gah! Drexel J. Crewing? How will you stand it?”
“I cleaned out my step-mom’s medicine cabinet before I left home.”
“Anything interesting?” Peyton shook his head, his dyed red hair brushing the collar of his Anarchy Angels T-shirt. “She’s into being a vegan now that she’s playing hide the salami with her yoga instructor, and she’s on this total health kick. Too dreary for words, and I had such hope for her when she married the gangster. But don’t change the subject; who’s the lame?”
Blue raised his eyebrows inquiringly.
“The slice of white bread I saw you walking out of the dorm with this ay em,” Peyton elaborated.
“Heydn?”
“Great googly Gawd! His name’s Hayseed? That’s perfect.”
“Hey…din.”
“Is that supposed to be an improvement?”
“Shut up, Peyn. He’s my roommate.”
“How do you stand it?” Peyton said archly.
“He’s all right.”
Peyton leaned forward, looking into Blue’s eyes in the scant light. “He’s all…right?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but was he not wearing a pearl snap shirt…with short sleeves?”
“He makes it work.”
“Oh, of course. It was obviouslymeant to go with those stone-washed jeans.”
“Now you’re exaggerating. His jeans are a little faded but…”
“They’rejeans ,” Peyton said, as though jeans were synonymous with herpes.
“Whatever.” Blue stood. “I’m going to have a smoke. If Mr. McIntyre ever decides to get started, tell him where I am.”
“Behind the gym pulling a train for the swim team?”
“You wish.”
“Do I ever,” Peyton sighed.
Blue paused. “Does it ever bother you, I mean really bother you, that people think you’re a homo?”
“I am a homo.”
“Forget I asked.” Blue walked away and Peyton silently cursed his clumsiness. If Peyton had taken a moment’s thought before replying, he and Blue might be in the middle of a deep and meaningful conversation right now. For nearly two entire years, Peyton had been gathering his courage to let Blue know how he felt, but somehow the time was never right. He wanted the moment to be absolutely perfect so that there would be no possibility of Blue rejecting him. Somehow, he had to make it happen before the end of the school year. After that, they’d be off to different colleges and the chances that they’d hook up would be slim to none. Peyton cursed himself again for blowing an opportunity to talk frankly about sex with Blue. “Real subtle, asswipe,” he said in a harsh whisper.
Blueleaned his shoulders against the mellow red-gold bricks of the auditorium’s back wall and pulled his smokes from his backpack. Smoking was strictly forbidden on school grounds and that was all the reason Blue needed to light up. He drew in a lungful of smoke and blew it out slowly, watching the silvery blue wisps coil and twine as they slid up a bar of sunlight, his mind devoid of thought for a moment as his eyes followed the diaphanous dance. It was amazing how beautiful everything was, how serene he felt. He could contemplate the day that lay ahead of him without dread or utter disinterest. Even the descent of the preppie hordes was a mere nuisance now. He had a real friend, someone who understood him without trying, accepted him as he was. Life was good, and Blue knew it would only get better after they graduated and were considered adults.
Loud laughter jarred Blue out of a daydream and he peered around the corner of the building. The half-smoked cigarette fell from his fingers as he stared at the trio swaggering across the south quad. Allerton King and Logan Newcombe were two of the most popular guys at Acton, only Astor Aldrich had bluer blood. They were the stars of the track team and held positions in student government, but more importantly, their fathers and grandfathers and so on had attended Acton. They were politely snotty, card-carrying country club brats with the bland handsomeness of a pair of catalog models and the self-assured demeanor of young men who know the world is their oyster bar. They were everything Blue hated about Acton, and they were flanking Heydn, laughing and flipping their floppy blond bangs out of their blue eyes as they floated by on a cloud of privilege.
Blue’s fingers curled, forming fists, fingernails digging into his palms. This wasn’t right. How could Heydn talk to a couple of drones who probably never even heard of Demon Rising, much less Cub Love QT? It was unnatural, like a gazelle strolling with a couple of hyenas. The sight actually hurt his eyes, to judge by the stinging.
“Blue!” Peyton hissed. �
�Didn’t you hear me calling you?”
Blue spun around and hurried toward the other young man. “Thanks,” he said as he passed Peyton. Peyton fell into step. “You looked like you were in some kind of trance.”
“It’s certainly possible.”
“Whatever.” Peyton let it drop. “Mr. McIntyre’s in rare form after a whole summer to think up new and exciting ways to desecrate the classics.”
“What did he rewrite this time?”
“One of Shakespeare’s comedies,As You Like It. I anticipate a complete butchering of the bard’s sublime verse, but I’ll do my best to save it.”
“You hate Shakespeare.”
“No I don’t; I just think he’s been overdone.”
“Remind me again why you’re in the Drama Club?”
“I live for drama,” Peyton said as he held open the auditorium door for Blue. Mr. McIntyre spotted the two young men and hailed them effusively. They came down the aisle to join the group sitting in a semicircle around the man on the stage and the next hour should have passed quickly for Blue. Despite the drama teacher’s stereotypical flamboyance and the self-absorbed nature of the actors, Drama Club was Blue’s oasis at Acton. He had a flair for drawing, the way Peyton was good with words, and he had carved a niche for himself painting scenery. However, as Mr. McIntyre talked, Blue wasn’t imagining how he would depict the Forest of Arden on backdrops. He wasn’t listening to the teacher; he couldn’t stop thinking about Heydn and the Gold Dust Twins. The mental image of the three of them striding along like trust-fund triplets would not leave his head as he plodded through the rest of his schedule. Orientation had officially become the longest day of his life. By the time it was over, all he wanted to do was get to the dorm and have a private talk with Heydn.
Blue groaned when he saw Peyton waiting for him outside the building. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Orientation is over. It’s time to get wasted.”
“I’m not feeling it. Give my regards to the damned.”
Peyton bugged his eyes discreetly. “This is a tradition. You can’t blow it off.”
“Doing something twice doesn’t make it tradition.”
“I don’t want to argue semantics, or whatever. Go change into something inappropriate and meet me at the bus stop.”
“I’m not going, Peyn.”
“I’m not listening. If you don’t go, I’ll be on that bus by myself.”
“What about Rolly?” “Well of course Rolly’s going. What’s your point?”
“I don’t want to argue either. Go away, okay?”
“It’s your loss.” Peyton feigned nonchalance. “If you’d rather be stuck in your room with Hayseed, that’s…” He paused. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Hang out with that meat puppet.”
“So what?”
“I can’t believe my ears. Okay, Blue. I’m going. Have fun playing Monopoly, or raiding a corporate slush fund or whatever it is those guys do for kicks.”
“I’ll go next time,” Blue promised. “I just have something I have to do tonight.”
“No big deal,” Peyton lied. “See you tomorrow then.” Blue brushed past Peyton and hurried into the dorm. For some reason, it was important that he be there when Heydn arrived. This was a situation entirely unknown to Blue and he was operating on sheer instinct. He needn’t have rushed. Heydn didn’t show up for another hour, giving him plenty of time to think about what he was going to say. However, when Heydn walked in, or more accurately, bounced in, grinning breezily, all of Blue’s carefully chosen words evaporated like dew in sunshine.
“You look like you had a good experience with Orientation,” he said, instead of demanding to know where Heydn had been. “It was good,” Heydn confirmed. “This school isn’t so bad. I have a best friend already. My teachers seem decent. And the track coach practically begged me to be on the team. I still have to try out with everybody else, but he more or less guaranteed me a spot.”
“The track team. Really.”
Some of Heydn’s effervescence bubbled away. “Yeah. I was running to the gym and the coach saw me. It’s just about the first time I’ve been picked for anything in my life.”
“Didn’t know you were into that stuff.”
“Sports? Well, I’m not going to sit around watching the Super Bowl, but I like getting a little exercise now and then.”
“Fine. It makes no sense, but whatever.”
“Want me to order a pizza?” Heydn asked. What Blue wanted was to reproach Heydn with his betrayal. What he hoped for was Heydn’s ardent assurance that he was just goofing on the preppies. What he feared was Heydn’s immediate rejection following any confession of love Blue might make. “Pie sounds killer,” he said. His next words were among the bravest he ever spoke. “So you going back out or you want to watch some vids?”
Heydn waggled his eyebrows. “Got any a that yowie stuff?” That night, things progressed in a quantum leap when Heydn slid down and put his mouth on Blue’s cock. Blue froze for a moment in surprise and then the sheer intensity of the sensation kept him immobile for several seconds more.
“You okay?” Heydn looked up.
“Hell yeah,” Blue breathed. “Please don’t stop.” “Don’t worry.” Heydn wrapped his lips around the head of Blue’s cock again and slid down the full length. Sucking lightly, he raised his head and bobbed it again, repeating the motion with variations as he fondled Blue’s tight balls. “How’s that treatin’ ya?” he asked, as he relinquished Blue’s dick to give his sack a few licks.
“I can’t believe how good it feels.”
“How about this?” As Heydn resumed sucking, he rubbed a fingertip against the sensitive skin around Blue’s hole. The crinkled opening flexed and Heydn pressed firmly with his thumb.
“Shit!” Blue gasped as his cock squirted a powerful stream against the back of Heydn’s throat. Heydn smiled as he swallowed, and let Blue’s shiny rod slide from between his lips. “That was fast,” he said, leaning his elbows on Blue’s knees. “Aw, don’t pout. When I got my first blowjob, I shot off in the dude’s eye on the first lick. So, you feel better now?”
Blue nodded lazily. “I want to suck you too,” he managed to say.
“I don’t know, rookie,” Heydn teased. “Promise not to bite me?”
“Promise.” Blue smiled, too content to take offense.
“Then how can I refuse?” Heydn stood and unzipped his worn jeans. Moving closer, he straddled Blue’s thighs and put his crotch in Blue’s face. Reveling in the freedom he was granted, Blue satisfied his curiosity about the taste of cock, balls, and everything in the vicinity. His touch was inept but eager and adoring and he soon had Heydn trembling on the same precipice he’d so recently occupied. Heydn’s thigh muscles shivered as his whole body strained toward release. He interleaved his fingers with Blue’s thick shaggy hair, pulsing his fingertips against the other young man’s scalp, gently guiding his rhythm. Blue took the hint, bobbing his head faster and shuttling his hand up and down the hard shaft. Heydn made a choked noise and thrust once, shoving his cock deeper as his climax roared and his seed erupted. Blue swallowed tentatively then gagged and sputtered, spraying Heydn with cum.
“Sorry,” he said, dragging his sleeve across his mouth.
“Don’t worry about it. Sex is supposed to be messy.” “I’m wiped.” “You really are a lightweight,” Heydn said, as he pushed his jeans all the way off. “Is there anymore pizza?”
Blue toed the takeout box in Heydn’s direction. “It’s all yours,” he said as he lifted his feet onto his bed and stretched out.
“Are we okay?” Heydn asked as he shut the laptop down.
“I’m fantastic,” Blue drawled. “You?”
“Feelin’ purty good.”
“Goodnight then.” Heydn let it drop, said goodnight, and wolfed down two slices with half a bottle of lukewarm beer. It felt like everything had settled back in the right
places, but it was hard to tell. Sometimes things developed hairline cracks and shattered later when you weren’t expecting it. Tossing the empty box in the trash, Heydn went down the hall to piss before he went to sleep. Things would be all right. Blue was smart and respected the rights of others. Everything was fine. With these comforting thoughts, Heydn fell asleep.
Chapter 3 “Thankyou. I’m really counting on you, Brooke.”
The sound of his real name got Blue’s attention and he looked up from his painting. Mr. McIntyre was smiling at him in a way that set off alarm bells. “Sorry, sir. My mind wandered for a minute.”
“No need to apologize. I’m a right-brainer myself, you know. We creative types tend to get absorbed in our art.”
Blue had no ready reply and continued to stare at the collar of Mr. McIntyre’s sweater.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” the drama teacher said. “Thanks again. You’re a trouper.”
“God, I hope not,” Blue said under his breath as Mr. McIntyre left the backstage area. “Have you gone completely mental?” Peyton asked, as he emerged from behind a plywood tree.
“Years ago. Are you just noticing?”
“Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?”
“What?” Blue added a line of bright white to the edges of some leaves, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“You just sat there nodding your head. You have no idea what McIntyre said, do you?” “I was hoping that if I acted like I was really concentrating on my work, he’d get the hint and go away. The fact that you were hiding in the corner and I could still smell the blunt you were smoking might have distracted me.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” Peyton reached into the pocket of his uniform jacket. “Want a swat?”
Blue put his brush in a jar of water and stood up. “No. I’m quitting. Let’s take that outside.”
“Quitting? Painting, or smoking?” Peyton asked as they stepped out the rear door.
True Blue Page 2
