Out of Bounds

by Gray, Mackenzie

  Damn. I had a blast today. And it’s not even over yet. I’m feeling loose and happy, and there are still places to explore. After paying our tab, I drag Austin down another road, past another building of old, pale stone. There seems to be a lot of guards walking around. I don’t think too much of it.

  I really have to piss, so the first place we come to that’s deserted, I undo the button on my jeans and let it all out. I sway, eyes half-closed. Must have drank too much wine.

  “What the—” Austin makes a sound of disbelief behind me. “Logan!”

  I squint at him over my shoulder, trying to sharpen my focus, but it’s not really working. The sound of urine hitting stone fills the night. “What?”

  “You—you’re—” His hand lands on my shoulder, fingers bruising. He jerks me back so I stumble against his chest. “You moron. You’re fucking pissing on the Vatican!”

  I straighten and stare at the dark stain dripping down the wall. Ancient stone hundreds of years old, it looks like. My dick hangs out of my pants, flapping in the wind. Everything is fuzzy. The Vatican. Why does that sound familiar?

  Oh, shit.

  A high-pitched giggle bubbles up my throat. The Vatican. The big guy’s house. “I’m going to hell.”

  “Hey!”

  My head whips to the side. Austin swears, and it takes me a few seconds to catch up with what he’s seeing. A dark figure races toward us down the sidewalk. We stand in the shadows, and the lighted areas are almost too bright. Austin grabs my arm, tugging me behind him. “Come on!”

  I am way too drunk to function right now. That’s a police officer. A really big, mean-looking dude who will probably toss me into prison for defiling his precious Vatican. I yank my arm from Austin’s grip and jerk up my zipper, forgetting in my panic that my dick still hangs out of my pants.

  The most excruciating pain tears through me as the zipper catches on my manly parts. My vision goes gray. “Fuck!” I scream, my knees buckling.

  The police officer is yards away. Austin keeps trying to pull me to my feet, and I moan like a wounded animal, seconds away from passing out. Karma really is a bitch. Piss on the Vatican, and I nearly sever my dick off. God’s punishing me. I don’t even have the words to repent because I’m too busy half-sobbing between my clenched teeth. I’m afraid to look down, but I quickly run a hand over myself to check for blood. I don’t feel any fluid, thankfully.

  Austin jerks me upright and drags me deeper into the shadows. The police office is speaking Italian into a radio. I’m guessing he’s calling for backup.

  I moan again, pitifully. “I’m too young to go to prison.”

  “Logan, if you don’t get your ass in line, I’m leaving you here.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  He tries a door set into the stone. “I assure you, I would.” Miraculously, it opens.

  “Get in,” he orders, and shoves me inside. The ceiling soars above me. It’s a vast, cavernous, echoing space. The air feels holy. I swear I hear angels singing in the background. Or maybe that’s the devil.

  I’m still gazing upward when Austin yanks on my arm, pulling me behind him.

  Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. We’re breaking and entering the holiest of holy places. I’m going to die a fiery death. I’ll be impaled. Beheaded. Cast in a vat of boiling oil.

  “Austin,” I gasp as we hurtle down a torch-lit hallway.

  “You fucker.” He pants beside me, his head whipping left and right for a way out. “You just had to take a piss, didn’t you?”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to tell you something.”

  He growls in his throat. And maybe it’s my drunken stupor, but it makes my blood heat in strange new ways. “What?”

  “I’m an atheist.”

  He drops his head with a curse as we turn a corner. Dead end. We turn around and run back down the hallway, taking a sharp turn down another corridor as the outside door opens in a flood of light. The police officer spots us and shouts something that’s lost in the empty space.

  “If we go to hell,” my friend gasps, sweat flying from the tips of his curly hair, “I will personally toss your burning carcass to the devil. I’m not going to be trapped there forever. I don’t think they play soccer down there.”

  “Not even if it’s with me?”

  He’s quiet, which I wasn’t expecting. I expected some smarmy remark. It’s my fault we’re being chased by the police and, if caught, we’ll most likely be thrown out of the academy, as well as the country. But I’m glad it’s with Austin. I don’t want it to be with anyone else.

  It’s then I see a red sign in the distance: the exit.

  Austin glances at me. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” he says, facing ahead again. “Being in hell together, I mean.”

  The comment makes me grin. We’re basically in hell anyway.

  We reach the exit. The door swings open and slams against the wall. Cool air slaps my face. I don’t recognize where we are, but Austin seems to know where to go. I follow on his heels as we dart across the dark street. What feels like five or fifteen minutes later, Austin tugs me into a shadowy alley, his back against the wall of a brick building, gasping for air. He peeks around the corner, saying, “I think we lost him.”

  With a groan, I peer down my shorts. It’s too dark to see anything. “Dude, I think I cut off some of my dick skin.”

  Austin’s eyes glitter in the streetlights. He just nods. “That’s unfortunate.”

  Unfortunate! I shoot him a caustic glare. “Seriously, what if I can’t have children?” That chase made me feel a little bit wild. I reach my hand down and pull my dick out, and Austin’s eyes widen. It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before. “Here, check to see if any parts are missing.”

  My friend tries to retreat, but his back hits the wall. There’s nowhere to go. “I’ll take a rain check,” he says.

  That’s right. Austin’s gay. Hm. Yeah, I guess that would be kind of awkward for him to touch me. Though for whatever reason, I’m not weirded out by the idea.

  “So now that the wild goose chase is over, where to next?” I ask him, tucking myself back into my pants. I’m definitely going to have a bruise tomorrow.

  Austin hesitates. “I actually had plans tonight. There’s this gay bar I want to check out. Maybe we could meet up afterward?”

  “Oh.” It’s hard not to feel crestfallen. “I mean, do you know how long you’ll be out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, would it be cool if I tagged along?” I’ve never been to a gay bar, but it’s a bar, and I’ll be with Austin, so I can’t imagine it would be that bad.

  “Er.” He runs a hand through his hair. He looks uncomfortable. “I mean, there’s a very high chance you’ll be hit on.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He stares at me, expression blank. A few seconds pass. Then he says, deadpan, “You have a big dick.”

  My eyes widen, and I burst out laughing. “Shit, man.” I see the memory of the graduation party in his eyes, and I know it’s in mine too. We both decide not to touch upon that topic.

  I clear my throat after a moment. “I still want to go with you, if that’s cool. I want to see you in your element.” It’ll be interesting to see how Austin reacts to getting hit on—or how he hits on other people. This is a part of his life I’ve never seen before, and I want to be a part of it, in whatever way I can.

  “My element, huh?”

  “I want to see how you pick up guys.”

  “I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s the same way you’d pick up a girl.”

  “Oh, yeah? Then bring on the pickup lines.”

  I don’t know what I expected from a gay bar, but I guess it makes sense that it’s packed wall to wall with men. Well, mostly men. A few women and other queer people mingle and drink and dance to the house
music beating through the massive speakers set atop the small stage in one corner. The place has a vintage feel. Velvet drapes. Dark tones. Funky lamps and framed pictures. I take it all in at a glance.

  As we step further into the room, heads swivel toward Austin. A few men eye him in appreciation, their gazes lingering on his tats, which are on display with his shirt sleeves rolled up. He moves ahead of me, effortlessly parting the crowd with his wide shoulders. There’s an air of confidence to him, a certain knowing. I stay close to his back, but eventually, the attention shifts to me, and I feel a jolt in the pit of my stomach. One guy smiles, his eyes sliding down my body in an assessing gaze, and I quickly turn away, heat warming my face. I’m wound up. My senses are heightened and I don’t know why.

  “Logan.”

  It takes me a moment to realize Austin’s talking to me, his hand on my shoulder. I blink at him, deer-in-the-headlights style. He’s trying and failing to smother laughter, his whole body shaking.

  “Relax,” he says, and incredibly, his voice soothes my nerves. The place is loud, but Austin’s quiet, and that’s what I gravitate toward.

  “You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” he asks with a fond expression.

  I’m captured in the pale green of his eyes. A moment passes before I’m able to shake my head.

  “Good.” He squeezes my shoulder in reassurance before dropping his hand. “Let’s get you a drink.”

  It’s immediately clear, as Austin moves toward the bar, that he’s at ease here. It makes me wonder how often he goes out back home, and if he picks up a lot of dudes. He said he’s only been in one relationship. I feel like I know nothing about this part of his life. His love life, I mean. Not that it’s any of my business. He can fuck who he wants, when he wants. But the thought doesn’t settle well, which adds another layer of confusion as I navigate this new setting.

  My friend snags the bartender’s attention and orders me a beer. Austin gets himself a club soda. I stand next to him, trying not to draw attention to myself, when someone accidentally bumps into me.

  “Sorry, man.” It’s a black guy with long dreads, a crisp white polo, and dark-washed jeans. He’s tall, well-muscled, and has probably the straightest, whitest teeth I’ve ever seen. He shoots me a look of interest, and I have no clue what I’m going to do or say if he decides to start talking to me, but luckily he heads toward the small dance floor instead. I breathe a sigh of relief when he’s gone.

  “Questioning your sexuality?” Austin asks me, amused.

  “I mean.” I laugh nervously. “It’s hard not to, right?” Attraction is fluid. I’ve never been into guys, but when someone is studying you with interest, it’s hard to turn that part of your brain off.

  I accept the beer he passes me, and when I look into Austin’s eyes, I swear I see heat there. Something inside me stills. But it’s gone so quickly I convince myself I imagined it.

  I never thought too much about my sexuality. I love women. I’ve always loved women. Their soft bodies, the way they smell, even their idiosyncrasies, like how much time they take to get ready on a date. Their bodies were made for me, and I could spend all day pounding into one. I feel like an intruder here, honestly. This place is for me, but it’s not for me. I’m glad Austin has safe spaces like this to interact with other queer people. Our society tells us that straight is the default. Anything else is wrong. It’s bullshit, and unfortunately, much of the world still thinks so.

  Suddenly, a man in his mid-thirties approaches me and asks, “Can I buy you a drink?”

  I blink at him, my mind blank. “Uh—”

  Austin starts laughing behind me. I could really punch him right now.

  The man doesn’t wait for a response. He hails for the bartender and asks for two drinks. Then he passes me one. And now I have two beers.

  I dart a look at Austin, whose goofy grin makes my own mouth twitch. I take a long sip from the beer Austin bought me, feeling awkward. How to let the guy know I’m not into guys? Austin, the bastard, keeps laughing at my stuttering. Then I see him straighten. He’s looking at someone over my shoulder, but I can’t see who.

  Austin touches my arm. “I’ll be right back.”

  Before I can respond, he leaves me. Alone. In a gay bar.

  Fuck.

  My attention wanders to where Austin and his new guy friend converse on the dance floor, their bodies nearly touching. Eventually, they stop talking and start dancing. With the crowd and low lighting, I can’t get a good view. Austin’s back is turned toward me. It turns out my friend isn’t that bad of a dancer. I never realized.

  “What’s your name?” the man asks me.

  His smile is kind, which makes me feel bad. “Logan.”

  “Nice to meet you, Logan. The name’s John.”

  We shake hands, and he’s slow to release his grip. I try to step back but find my way blocked by the crush of people vying for the bartender’s attention. “Look, John, you seem like a nice guy, but I’m not—I mean, my friend—”

  “You’re straight, is what you’re trying to say.”

  I swallow and nod. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  He smiles. “It’s okay. I knew it was probably too good to be true. You’re just too damn good-looking.” He laughs, and the skin around his eyes crinkles. It’s a nice smile. “I saw you walk through the door. At first I thought you were with your friend over there.” He points to Austin.

  My shock is like a punch to the gut. “Oh.” The guy Austin dances with leans forward and whispers something into my friend’s ear. Austin smiles, but it’s reserved. I can tell. He’s never open with people he first meets. Or anyone, for that matter. Except for me.

  “No, we’re old friends, that’s all.” My voice sounds far away.

  The man nods, but it seems like he doesn’t believe me. Whatever. Eventually, he goes off to find someone else, and I’m left alone at the bar. A stool opens up on the end, kind of squished in the corner, so I grab it before someone else does. Now that I’m out of the way, it’s less likely I’ll be hit on.

  The music changes into something slower, and my focus is again drawn to Austin. He and his new friend are plastered together—chests, stomach, thighs. Austin’s hands rest on the guy’s lower back. The guy’s arms twine around Austin’s neck. I push aside a spark of irritation. Here I sit, avoiding socializing. And there he is, having a ball. I’m beginning to question my decision to come out tonight, considering I’m now a sitting duck. I wanted to see this part of Austin’s world, but I wanted to do it together.

  It’s a selfish thought. He booked this trip before I was ever in the picture. It was my decision to change my flight, so I can’t blame him for sticking to his plans, even if those plans involve ignoring me.

  I finish my first beer and move onto the second. I spend the next hour scrolling through my phone, looking up the latest game highlights. Soon, I finish my second beer. I continue to track Austin as he moves around the crowded dance floor, switching partners but always returning to the dark-haired man. The low, gritty music pulses through my blood. The more I drink, the more my mood darkens, because at this point it’s been nearly two hours, and my time is being wasted. I could be out roaming the streets or picking up girls at a bar. Instead I’m here, waiting for my friend to finish his dancing so we can hang out.

  As my buzz grabs hold of me, my thoughts start to wander. I’m pulled back into the memory of four years ago. I was seated on the edge of the wooden chair in the closet, and someone’s breath coasted over my hard-as-concrete dick. I tried to imagine which girl it was, whether it was Jade. I hoped so. My breath shuddered out of me, almost a moan. God, the wait was torture.

  The girl’s tongue ran around and around the flared head. No hands, only tongue. My body shook with the need to thrust my hips forward, push my cock deeper into her mouth. I gripped the sides of the chair so I wouldn’t touch her. I
t was against the rules.

  Then, wet heat engulfed me as she took me deep, and I swear my moan was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, even over the house music. “Oh, fuck.” The most acute pleasure speared through my body. Beyond the closet door, high-pitched giggles trickled through my lust-drenched haze. I didn’t care. My fingers gripped the chair so tightly I thought they might snap in half. Heat sizzled down my spine, then shot to my pelvis as that tongue followed a leisurely path down my cock, the sucking sensation wrenching another groan from me, the drag of the mouth pulling me closer to completion. Cold air. Heat again. It was both heaven and hell, pleasure and pain.

  The girl worked me over with exquisite technique. I kept moaning. It was embarrassing, but I couldn’t help myself. This girl, whoever she was, was good. Too good. “Don’t stop,” I choked out, my breath stuttering through me.

  She started slow, but soon she picked up speed, using the tip of her tongue to trace the bottom of my cock. She removed her mouth with a wet pop before pressing soft kisses along the shaft, inching toward my balls. She sucked one into her mouth, and my hips started to move, seeking friction.

  One of my hands lifted, touched the top of the girl’s head, but a second later she moved my hand to my side again. She swallowed me with her mouth, allowing me to push in deeper. It was too much. At this point, I was trembling uncontrollably. I couldn’t hold out any longer.

  “Gonna come,” I said, voice hoarse.

  Warm hands gripped my outer thighs. Against the rules. I didn’t care, and neither, it seemed, did she. More than anything, I wanted to rip off my blindfold, see the face of the girl who gave me such mind-blowing pleasure. A moment later, my release barreled through me, and I pumped harder with a low groan, stiffening as my orgasm shredded me apart.