Day One
On my back, I was naked in bed with a thin sheet covering my lower half, Bible on my bedside table, my asshole still burning from the night before, contemplating how I let myself go down that road. Next to me was a guy that my memory can’t register a name to. The sunlight shouted from the window, reminding me of my headache. Too many drinks consumed the night before. At least the guy looked pretty decent. I hardly remember him ramming himself into me over and over. At that point, I was just going through the motions. Dust covered my Bible.I woke the guy up next to me and politely told him that he needed to leave because my brother was due to show up at any time. He nodded and gathered his clothing, putting it on in a hurry. My stomach lurched, knowing it was a dance he knew well. A condom at my shoe relaxed my tension. As he rushed out the door, he told me he’d text me later that day. His eyes had a gleam of hope in them. Four years had only brought me heartache. Boys used me and tossed me to the dumpster. No, he thought I was adorable. Before he could break my heart, I’d let him down easily and he’d be fucking another guy the next night.
Drew, my brother, was still at church with—
I took a shower before he would arrive. Tiny farts escaped me, allowing my asshole to tighten back to normal. Even though there was still a light hint of cologne lingering on me, my body smelled rank of cigarette smoke and sweat. The shower was much needed. Extra hot water turned my skin red. Days like that, I wanted to make sure I was extra clean.
After I finished washing myself, I let the water pour over me. Pressing my hands together, I almost prayed. No. I stopped doing the church thing. Eighteen years of putting my full heart and soul into it, I gave it all up the day I came out and was kicked out of the house. Two years of deep Bible studies under the Lutheran tradition to get confirmed down the drain. Apparently, “on earth as it is in heaven” does not include being gay. The most loving man in the world, my father, turned his back on me. So, I turned my back on the Heavenly Father. For years I struggled to make it on my own, but at twenty-two, I’ve brought myself up well enough to maintain my car and studio apartment.
Shutting off the water, I reached for my towel and dried myself off. My body felt fresh again. Even the red was subsiding back into the pale of my skin-tone. I wrapped the towel around my waist. After applying deodorant, I went into the kitchen to make coffee and downed a full cup of water. It threatened to come back up, but I kept it down. I went back into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Sputters came from the coffee-maker as a loud kick sounded at my door. Still in my towel and toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, I answered. Drew had a box in his arms. One of his eighteen-year-old friends followed him in. So many guys have seen me naked at this point, it doesn’t embarrassed me like it used to when guys would take advantage of how naive I was when I first went searching for a boyfriend, just for them to say they had a boyfriend but would break up with him for me.
“Thanks for bringing someone unannounced,” I snapped at my brother a bit. My vexation was held by wondering what he had brought me. Since I was kicked out, I never returned to my house. There is still a bit of my old stuff in my room, which was the taboo part of the house and no one went in it, except when my brother would get some of the stuff and put it in his car. He was also in the habit of getting his mom to buy clothing that he knew I might like and bring it over to me. He was shorter than I, but his muscles made us the same size shirt.
“I’m Brad.” The friend extended an hand out to me. He was my six foot height, but he was just as muscular or more than Drew. I couldn’t believe a high school kid was wanting to shake a hand of a homo in only his towel.
“Matt,” I offered. My hand gripped his. The shake nearly broke my hand because he gripped me hard, seeming to take pleasure in my wincing.
After I let go, I went over to my closet and put my clothing on for the day. I didn’t really care if they saw me naked. Drew has probably seen me naked before. And they were both jocks, so they surely both saw naked men. However, I could feel Brad’s lustful eye on me, while Drew busied himself with the box he brought me.
Once I put all my clothes on, which had astoundingly turned into a button-up shirt with a V-neck under it, and a very nice pair of jeans, Drew stopped busying himself and gave me a pouty look. I instantly knew he wanted something.
“Matt.” He itched the back of his head. His tie looked tight against his neck. “Brad here is interested in art.”
Brad slightly coughed in reply.
“Actually music.” Drew darted an annoyed glance at him. “Anyway, I was telling him about the art show that you told me about and he wants to see it.”
I finally nodded because I was finding it hard to not do what this beautiful boy in front of me wanted. And that made me cringe. After I got kicked out of my house, I stayed with one of my friends for a month. During that time, I was looking for a job and getting screwed with by guys. I wanted to go to college and when I was looking around with an art portfolio in hand, an art professor stopped me and took a look at my work. He then made me an offer I couldn’t turn down. He told me if I would live with him, do his house-work for him, and occasionally give him his sexual desires, he would find me scholarships and pay for anything school-related that they didn’t cover. That year, I worked, building up a bank account. He had a room for me, so I didn’t actually have to pay for anything more than my phone. It gave me enough money to get my car.
As we walked toward the gallery building, my mind twisted in thoughts. I stayed a few good paces ahead of the other two, until Drew asked me what was wrong.
“I have an art history test on Thursday that I really need to start studying for,” I confessed. My pace slowed and the two boys flanked me. Brad’s arm brushed up against mine. Glancing over at him, I slightly smiled. He seemed at ease as he walked, slight excitement concealed in his eyes.
“Procrastinating again?” Drew asked.
Brad slightly frowned. The air was starting to feel a little to warm for October.
Lucky for me, I didn’t have to answer my brother because we were at the gallery. I opened the door for the other two boys. Together we all walked into the building. Again, I lead the way to the gallery, flinching at the thought of Brad seeing my work.
We all separated. I studied some of my collogue’s work. To me, it all seemed soulless and amateur. My eyes lingered over to one of the finest pieces of work in the room: Brad. Even through his shirt, I could tell that he spent a lot of time sculpting his body. He was transfixed on one of my pieces. My heart pounded in my throat as I made my way over to it, my footsteps sounding loud on the wood floor.
The painting in question: one of my most brutal carvings into my soul. If you thought that Freda had tortured and horrific paintings, then you would never be prepared for the terrible sight of this. It would be a mess to even try to explain it in words. I wouldn’t bore you with those details anyway.
“This is astounding,” Brad commented, never tearing his eyes away from it, as he inspected every square inch of it.
“Tell me about it,” I replied, trying to keep all my focus on him while ignoring my baby brother’s impatient footsteps, as he moved from painting to painting rapidly.
Brad pointed to the very center. A black hole that was sucking the rest of the painting into it. “That’s the artist.” His finger circled around it. “Each of these are his or her pains.” He pointed out individual things and commented. “Being used. Being abandoned. Feeling loveless. Fear.” He continued on, pinpointing every last detail of my life, horrifically.
“You’re pretty good at interpretation.”
Finally he looked at me. “It’s yours isn’t it?”
My eyes widened, as my mouth began to feel very dry. No words could come to me. We moved onto a few paintings that weren’t mine. His vision of them made me less critical. His words were fluently beautiful about each.
Immersed in what Brad was telling me about one of the paintings, I didn’t notice Drew come up behind us. “Are you two almost done yet? I’m bored as hell.”
Anger filled me. It had been so long since I’d seen someone so brilliant and passionate that I couldn’t believe my brother was suggesting to leave. When I cooled a little, I remembered that my brother was ignorant—not stupid, but ignoring—toward art. Flicking my wrist at him, I said, “Go, if you want. I can take Brad home.” My stupid mouth. I quickly looked to affirm with Brad that he would be cool with it.
Keeping his face still, Brad nodded and told Drew he could go. As Drew walked out, Brad slid a backpack off that he had been wearing the whole time that I hadn’t even noticed. He pulled out a notebook and wrote a few names and artists names down. With small notes that I couldn’t read.
“Let me get some notes, and we’ll go back to your place so you can study for your test, and I can write my paper while it’s fresh in my head.” It seemed like a question and a statement at the same time.
Happy to be spending more time with him, I quickly agreed. I was in the early stages of feeling the small desire to do anything to just be around him. Which sent a huge warning in my head. First of all, he was still in high school. Secondly, gay relationships are a complete joke. But having sex with him—my stomach dropped. For once, sex felt wrong. And not just because of his age. I furrowed my eyebrows from confusion.
Brad suddenly snapped his notebook shut and turned to me. “Oh, you want me out of your hair, don’t you?”
I took a step toward him. “No. Not at all. Just thinking.”
Finally, Brad let out a true grin. “I’m ready to go back to your place then.” He quickly turned his back to me and headed out the door. His bubble butt was luscious.
As we walked back to my apartment, we talked about him being in football, president of his class for student council, playing the trumpet, and me about art school and how successful the sales on my paintings were (not that I was bragging). Normal stuff. Even if I did feel like his blue eyes were piercing through me.
Back at my apartment, he quickly sat at my two-person kitchen table that sat up high so your feet couldn’t touch the floor and started to write a paper based off of his notes. As to not disturb him, I got out my laptop and started working on studying my painting slides. With such a gorgeous boy sitting next to me, I had a hard time concentrating.
My stomach growled, helping me remember that I had not eaten anything yet, so I got up and fixed Brad and me a quick dinner of hamburgers and mac & cheese.
He closed his notebook about the time that I plated the food and brought it over to him. “I only have ketchup, I hope that’s okay.”
Brad smiled and thanked me.
Over dinner we had some more good conversation. Only, he started asking me very personal questions about being gay.
“Why all the questions about me being gay, Brad?” I asked curiously.
Brad scooped up some food and took a bite then shook his head. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”
Much like an art history test, I went through slides in my head of the past. As far as I knew, Brad and I had never crossed paths before that day. “If so, I’m afraid you’ll have to help me out some.”
“We were married at recess. And you used to tongue kiss me on the playground when you were in fifth grade.”
I looked him over. He must have been joking with me. “You’re that Brad. No way!”
He gave me a secure nod back. “In fact, I am.”
My heart skipped a beat. The Brad I made out with was a little rag-tag first-grader, who wore clothes that were too big for his frail, skinny body. His teeth all had gaps in them. But he was still cute back then. “I don’t know if I should say sorry or what there.” I felt off balance and sat down.
“Actually.” He kind of blushed. “I’ve thought about you almost every day of my life. It just took me this long to finally ask Drew about you.”
I pinched my thigh to make sure I was still awake. Yep, I was. The pain was there with that pinch. “I’m still in an unsure-what-to-say place.”
Brad got up and took the plates in the kitchen. He rinsed them and placed them in the dishwasher. “Study,” he told me, with a strange gleam in his eyes. I did as he commanded, while he did my dishes. What a sweet boy. Certainly someone I could get used to. But a darkness crept in my heart. God didn’t let me have anything good. So, why should I hope things would be different. Surely, he was just putting on a show and was going to get back at me for kissing him when he was a kid. Probably even straight.
When he finished, he walked over and put his chin on my shoulder, looking at the slides. Under each one had the information in small print that I covered up when I quizzed myself.
“Wanna make this more interesting?” He whispered in my ear. Which tickled, so I plunged my finger into it.
“What do you have in mind?” If I turned my head, I could just kiss him. But I couldn’t.
He wrapped his arms around my middle. “How about, I’ll quiz you. If you get an answer right, I take a piece of clothing off. If you get it wrong, then you have to take a piece of clothing off?”
Cruel world. How dare you bring this into my life. Of course, I accepted this challenge right away, knowing full well I was about to be naked in front of him. But then, I already had been earlier that day.
He started at the beginning. Thank God for good old Mona Lisa. His shoes both came off because I knew both the title and the artist.. However, when I couldn’t produce the year, one of my shoes came off. It would have been nice if the next painting would have been Starry Night, but instead, all I knew was that the painting in question was created by Turner.
As Brad’s shirt came off—revealing his tight eight-pack abs (fuck)—he told me that maybe I should do my shirt button by button.
About half way through the slides, I was naked and Brad had only removed his socks. I was sucking this set of slides up. “Now what?” My penis was threatening to get hard.
Brad shrugged.
“How about I have to suck your penis for a minute any time I get one wrong?” I suggested with a sly grin.
“No. That’s a reward for you too.” It wasn’t mean. Just as a passing thought. His eyes roamed down to the floor. “How about, if you get it wrong, you have to suck one of my toes?”
I frowned. Feet were so gross. But the worshipers love to do it. And I wouldn’t so much mind worshiping Brad. There was a small twinge inside me when I thought of the word worship.
“That’s it then.”
As soon as he changed slides, I was sucking on his big toe. It was really weird feeling in my mouth. It was fat and stubby. Something like a horrifying cock. Right away, I was onto the next one. I managed to get his pants off of him, but he had basketball shorts on under them. Damn it!
Once he finished the slides, I had finished off cleaning his entire feet. Of course, I had a raging boner. It was actually the first time I’ve ever been embarrassed about having a boner.
“I’ve got an idea.” The evil look on his face scared me a bit. “I’ll make you a bet. If you can get forty percent of the information from the slides correct, I stay the night here and hold you all night. If you don’t, you have to be my slave for thirty days.”
The math did not add up right. He wanted for me to give myself to him completely for thirty days, in comparison to one night of cuddling? Not right. “I don’t know these enough. And those’s not really fair Day
Brad rubbed them, taunting me. He agreed to my final terms and gave me an hour to study, while he listed to his IPOD. I swear, I’ve never studied that hard for something in my life. Yet, the whole time that I was studying, I was thinking about the boy in the room with me, who was staring at my cork board intently. I was a bit embarrassed because my most recent HIV negative certificate from a week ago hung on the board as a way to let guys know I was safe. So, that distracted me just enough to give me only thirty-five percent of the questions correct.
“Slave for thirty days.” Brad reminded me. “Today is day one. You’re lucky.”
I was feeling terribly lucky. Being someone’s slave again didn’t make me feel very excited. But being Brad’s slave... I don’t know, it seemed like something interesting.
Brad stepped right in front of me. Still naked, I was instantly excited. When his basketball shorts were right against my penis, the silky feeling made me completely hard. His face was an inch from mine. “Kiss me like you used to,” he said with a breath of a whisper.
I obeyed. Holding his face, I kissed him. His lips were so soft and supple. Mine couldn’t have been that soft. They were probably chapped. I pressed my tongue in his mouth and awkwardly fished around. I listened for a response but got nothing.
He stepped back. Disappointment filled his eyes. “You’ve lost your passion...” He yawned. “I’m going to bed. You sleep naked tonight. No blankets. You can hold me for warmth.”
He kept the tv on as he curled up in my blankets and pulled them away from where I would be able to access them. I felt bad that he was in my sex bed. I got into the bed and rubbed his back. “You better be naked and not under the blankets when I wake up, Matthew.” The way he used my full first name put chills down my spine.
“Yes sir.” Sir? What the eff?
Before I knew it, light breathes came from him. He was asleep. I shut the tv and lights off, so he could sleep. I started to shiver and held him tight for warmth. Not much more came to me though. This is what I deserved. Turning away from my beliefs had been a chilling experience.
No comments:
Post a Comment