by Lydia Thorn
“I’m what?”
“A normal guy.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, come on, don’t play that bullshit with me.”
“What bullshit?”
“You think Rei dressing up in the girl’s uniform and throwing makeup on his face is normal?”
“What’s wrong with that? Rei’s always been a free spirit, it’s why I like him.”
“We’re in high school, dude,” Toby replies like I’m the dumbest sonofabitch he’s ever met. “Don’t you think that throwing on a damn dress is basically asking to be made fun of. You and I are normal gay men. All we want is to live our lives like everyone else, we don’t deserve to be made fun of for that. But Rei is a walking fem boy stereotype who just makes us look bad, I’m not gonna feel sorry for him when he makes life harder for people like us.”
“I can’t believe you would say that.” I step away from him. Fighting him about this is not what I want. Although now I understand why he’s been so distant with Rei since he came to school in the girl’s uniform. “I thought Rei was your friend too.”
“He is, but I’m not gonna pretend I don’t know why he’s being targeted.” Toby shrugs. “Apparently that’s something you don’t mind doing.”
“Fuck you right now.” Toby doesn’t budge and neither do I and right now I have too much on my plate to process. He must have been thinking this the whole time, I’m just glad he’s saying it to me and not Rei.
“I’m trying to be a good friend to you right now, and what’s best is for you is to shut the hell up. Didn’t Xander say that Ivan told them to leave you alone? I’m sure it has something to do with his phone, and that’s why you want it. Take advantage of it and don’t confront Xander.”
“And just let Rei be some sort of sacrifice?” Pinching the bridge of my nose is about all I can do to stave off this headache. “Maybe that’s something you can do, but I won’t stand here and pretend to be some sort of clever Machiavelli. My friend needs me and I’m going to do whatever I can to help him.”
He held up his hands, he’s done fighting me about it and that’s all I want. “If you do this, then count me out. I’m trying to keep a low profile until graduation and I’m not fucking it up now.”
“Okay.” I push by him and march toward the group hanging out. My throat is closing up on me and I clear it to gather some courage and to get their attention.
“What the hell you want dip shit?” I have no idea what his name is, so I’m just going to call him asshole number one.
The girl with the wavy blonde hair laughs. She’s the one Ivan was kissing on after I caught him in the lounge. The fact that she was tasting not only Ivan but Mr. Bowie’s dick is unintentionally hilarious. “He’s the one Ivan doesn’t want touched.” She teases. “So, what did you do to get that honor?”
“Xander, can I talk to you?” I ignore her and focus on my target.
“Only if it’s about what I asked earlier.”
“No, it’s about Rei.”
“Then no.”
“Fine.” I sneer. “Y—You need to back off Rei and leave him alone.”
Xander raises a brow. “Oh, this is interesting. You want me to leave him alone?” Xander stands a good few inches above me and he revels in me knowing it. “And you’re going to do what if I don’t?”
“…”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Xander.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a face change faster than his. Lion to cub then back to a much smaller lion is probably the best way to describe it. I can see the mixture of fear and anger drip from every fiber of his being. The air becomes hot with intensity and there is nothing sexual about it. I turn to see Ivan standing behind me, his gaze doesn’t leave Xander’s for a moment.
The group must feel it too as they shift about in discomfort.
“Now what did I tell you about messing with my toys,” Ivan says with no amount of friendly jesting.
“You should tell your toy to be more respectful,” Xander replies through gritted teeth.
“And what was my toy talking about?”
“I’m standing right here,” I say, but neither gave a shit.
“That you have a little secret.”
“What?” I feel his hand wrap around my arm tugging me hard and away from the group. Toby shakes his head at the display, like a friend watching his friend get reprimanded by his angry parent or something.
My struggle ceases when he tosses me inside of an empty classroom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LOUIS
He pulls the shades down as I turn to face him, my backpack dropping to the floor. That same vanilla oak scent wafting about and I can’t help but breathe deep like some perverted old man. God, how the hell does a human being like this get made? I feel like someone has cheated me in some way.
“Someone wants to be a little birdy despite my warnings.”
“I didn’t say anything to him about that.” I try to explain with a tremble in my voice I can’t hide. I don’t know if it’s fear or arousal that’s causing it, but I keep my back pressed against the desk. I have no idea what class we’re even in, but the tables are long with chairs flipped on top. Maybe a science lab? It doesn’t look like it’s getting much use. “And why do you care? You’ve won, no matter what. I was banking on you being too humiliated to let me release the pictures, but that’s not the case at all. And I don’t want to go to jail. I just want this to end.”
“If you wanted this to end then why keep the pictures?”
I’m afraid you’ll win by releasing my dick pics. I don’t say that.
“I told you to take my deal. You should have listened.”
“To become a prostitute? As if.”
“You were going to have me sell my body to you. Isn’t being loved by me was what you wanted? I don’t see how this is a terrible deal.” He closes the gap between us even more. “Or is it your pride that’s keeping you from helping your mom?”
“That’s a low blow.” I grit my teeth. “And I doubt you would really love me, you would just humiliate me and treat me like shit.”
“So, it’s fear driving you?” He asks, amused. “How did it feel? My mouth on your cock?” Okay, now he’s getting a little too close for comfort. I’m reminded of the narrow space of the bus, the heat between our bodies, his minty breath on me and the rich creamy smell of his cologne. “Or do you hate me so much you can’t give in…”
I grip the desk behind me to steady myself because my knees are damn near buckling and my partner wants to come out and play. But he doesn’t understand what it wants to play with. This man with the silver eyes unnerves me completely. I wish he was some dumb jock sitting in the closet and scared his reputation will diminish, but no, he doesn’t give a damn or he’s doing a good job of pretending he doesn’t. I’ve been outsmarted and all I want to do is throw in the towel but he won’t let me, not that I blame him.
All I want is those gray eyes looking up at me again. Just stop it. What you need to do is steal his phone, delete those pictures, delete yours and move on. That’s it, brain, you do all the thinking from now on. “Why would I hate you?” I reply, none of the words form properly.
“Because I outsmarted you and made you look like a fool. You thought you could control me.”
This is it, with or without Toby’s help I may have to yolo this. Make him take out his phone, snatch it, and run like the devil himself is chasing me. And in this case, I wouldn’t be far off. “I bet you don’t even have those pictures anymore.”
“Oh really?” He raises a single brow. Yes, that’s right, accept the challenge and pull out that phone to show them off.
“Yeah, I don’t think you’re as bad as you want everyone to think.”
“I wasn’t aware I wanted anyone to think anything about me.”
“That didn’t stop you from strutting about the school like you own the place.”
“It’s cal
led confidence. Try it sometime.” He scoffs. “How others perceive me is not my problem.”
“Well, I think you wouldn’t keep those pics…”
“You’re cute when you’re trying to be clever.”
“Really?”
“No.”
Okay, this is not working, maybe I need to be a little harsher. “You know. You walk around the school like some big shot making me and my friend’s lives hell for being gay while yearning for cock yourself.” I spit like fire hoping he takes the bait, though at this point I have no idea what the hell I want him to do besides pull out that damn phone of his. I’m such a hot mess. “You’re a hypocrite!”
He grabs me by the collar, slamming me against the desk and now I’m nearly on top of it. My attempt to push him away is not working, it’s like trying to push at a stone statue and when he was sick of my attempts, he grips my wrists tight and pins me back against the desk with a heavy thud. Fighting is useless, he’s stronger than me and he knows it.
I turn away from his triumphant smirk, but I feel something I didn’t expect. He’s as hard as I am.
“I don’t need to show you a damn thing so stop trying to make me.” He saw right through me.
“You are such a pervert.” He frees one hand because all he needs to hold me down is one. I can’t look at those silver eyes. “Are you sure you want me to leave you alone?”
“Stop it.” Liar.
“You enjoy being held down like this, just like I enjoy holding you down.” His breath brushing my cheeks as he whispers in my ear. “If only you can see yourself right now. Your black hair is a mess, your beautiful skin is glistening, the sun shines on you at this moment. Admit you didn’t want to take charge, you wanted to be taken charge of. I bet you love getting fucked like a woman.”
I keep my gaze away from his, I can’t control my damn breath. I’m embarrassed by this, and I wonder if it shows. “Why is fucking all you can think about?” I say, trying to bluff. “You think all gay men run around thinking of sleeping with everything under the sun or how they want to get fucked?” There’s no bite in my words. “And you have some nerve calling me a pervert. Rapist.”
He unzips my pants and reaches in to grab my hard cock. His hands are cold, which makes me shudder at the shock and the surprise of his actions. My breath hitches, and despite how my brain feels, my traitorous partner is happy. “And you’re turned on by a rapist, so what does that make you?” He replies as his hands gently strokes me. The heat rising, driving me insane. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you.” His lips brush against mine, and I instinctively lick his lips while licking my own. “How long did you watch?”
“I was shocked.”
“Your dick gets hard every single time you’re shocked?” Now he’s just teasing me. I want him to go faster, I want to finish, but I’m full of shame to tell him. My hips aren’t.
“Let me go!”
“Make me.” He challenges me, knowing I will lose. “I bet you wish it was your cock my mouth was on.” He’s not lying. “You can practically feel the heat of my lips on it, can’t you?”
“You’re gonna wait until I fall asleep first?” I whimper, but I just have to get in at least one good smartass remark.
He looks almost as amused as I am, but it doesn’t last long when he squeezes my cock. His hips gyrate, he’s fucking me nice and slow with his hand. The rocking of our bodies, the squeak of the desk on the dusty wooden floor, the restriction of my movements, the sun blinding me every time I tilt my head back, everything accumulates in this erotic moment that I’ll savor long after it's finished.
My body stiffens, and the waves of pleasure flow through me. I’m spent.
“See? You’re a pervert like me.” Ivan releases me, his tongue laps at my cum just as he did on the bus. “If you want me to love you, I’ll give you more than you can handle.”
“If I delete the pictures?”
He nods. “Don’t let pride get in the way of what you want.” His silver eyes drill into me. I want this moment to last, I don’t want him to go. Ugh, this sucks, this uncertainty.
“But it isn’t me you’ll love but Mr. Bowie.” I think this is my attempt to talk myself out of it.
“Does it matter who I picture? You’ll still get what you asked, for both yourself and your father.” He lifts my chin with his clean hand. “What if I tell you that Damien is the only man I’ve ever loved, and it’s driving me crazy not having him. That means that every ounce of pent up emotion will go to you alone, and I’ve never had a boyfriend before so I wouldn’t mind knowing what that entails. We can pretend together.”
“What’s going on here?” Speak of the devil, that sounds like Mr. Bowie!
CHAPTER NINE
LOUIS
Ivan turns to face Mr. Bowie, his broad back shielding me from his eyes. I don’t know if it was done on purpose so I can fix myself up or if it was some childish attempt at hiding my entire presence from him. I fix my pants but have no room to move away from the desk so I try my own childish attempt at acting normal, like two guys hanging out in an empty classroom they aren’t supposed to be in during class time makes sense.
I look down at Ivan’s ass and as nice as it is, that’s not what’s drawing my eye. His phone is calling me like a beacon. It sits slightly up in his pocket, enough for me to grab if I have the guts.
I hear the door close again and it now occurs to me that I don’t think Ivan or Mr. Bowie spoke a word to each other yet, or I certainly didn’t hear anything. No shocked ‘What’s going on here?!’ or a mountain of excuses.
Ivan steps forward and my grip on his phone slips. The thing now sits slightly higher but not enough to fall out. Damn.
“Ivan.” Mr. Bowie finally speaks as he walks further into the room and his voice is as smooth and soft as his skin.
I finally see his elvish like face, delicate, smooth, and well made. I swear neither of these guys looked human. They both look like someone I’d hate on TV after comparing their looks to my own, then I’d soothe my bruised ego by telling myself that of course they look good, that’s why they’re models or actors. They’re not regular people doing regular jobs and living regular lives like me. These two and Mr. Mortensen just blows that comfort right out the water. And Ivan wants me to take Mr. Bowie’s place? Yeah, right.
“Are you picking on people today?” Mr. Bowie continues. “Remember what we talked about; I don’t like a bully.”
“I’m not!” Ivan replies. His calm and in charge demeanor almost diminish and he’s like a child again trying to defend himself to a pissed off parent. “I swear I wasn’t.”
Which one is the real Ivan?
For years nothing seemed to bother him and he never seemed close to anyone, to me, based on his social media posts and how he behaves in school I thought I had him figured out. To me, he was a man who gave no shits for anyone or about anything, but I’m wrong, he seems to care for Mr. Bowie…like a genuine care, enough that he cares about how he looks to him.
Jealousy is like bile.
“I was just helping him with an embarrassing problem.” Ivan shifts away revealing me completely to the man. When I look at him, I see a cross between the man who had just pinned me to the desk, and a frightened child, and it unnerves me. Just what type of relationship do these two have?
“Really?” Mr. Bowie folds his arms, his sharp chin raises as he inspects me. His face and thin lips relaxes but his eyes remain as sharp as his stark blue eyes.
“Yes. I swear.” Ivan says, his voice now calm and in control, the child retreating revealing more of the man. “H—His zipper was caught and so I pulled him in here to help him out.”
“And you, you’re going to corroborate this tale?” Mr. Bowie’s eyes never leave me. He looks from my pants to my eyes, and I have a hard time matching them.
“It’s not a tale, he’s right.” I nod and now I just want this strange and just awkward as hell situation to pass.
“Hm, that sounds like it sucks.
” Mr. Bowie replies and nothing in his voice says he believes a word of it. I probably look a mess, even though Ivan himself looks immaculate. “Need any help?”
“No!” I push away from the desk. “I mean, he got it.” I try my best to explain. “I’m fine now.”
“Okay.” The corner of his lips curls, though his mouth doesn’t form a true smile. “Ivan, you should get to class—”
“But—”
“No buts. You’re going to have some heavy responsibilities once you graduate now that your brother can no longer fulfill those duties.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” Ivan repeats. “I want them.”
“Okay, then don’t be late.” Ivan steps away from the door to let Ivan pass. “And don’t forget, you’re making dinner tonight.”
Is he really leaving me alone? Yep, he’s walking to the door and actually leaving me alone with him. He gives me one final look before heading out, and I can’t tell if he’s worried or angry at me. Maybe he believes I’ll tell him and honestly, I don’t have any plans to say a word. I just want to leave and get to class! But more than my fear, I’m intrigued big time by their relationship. Are they or aren’t they seeing each other? If they are, then why does Ivan need me as a fake boyfriend? Why is he pent up?
Damn. What if they are together but Mr. Bowie is just waiting for Ivan to graduate even though he’s eighteen? That explains a lot. Him constantly being in Mr. Bowie’s presence, his cock hard and ready to go and Mr. Bowie being the more responsible one is putting the brakes on it…that’s why he knows Mr. Bowie won’t turn him in to the police! Holy shit, just call me Sherlock Holmes. Step aside, Benedict Cumberbatch.
But I’d be a liar if I said none of this made me jealous as hell. Just what the hell did you think, you idiot? Did you really think that a pretend relationship was going to be anything but pretending? Do you think it’ll be like the movies where he really falls in love with you and tells the real deal to piss off?
Shut up brain, we aren’t even doing the pretend thing…at least I haven’t even agreed to it yet.
