Chapter 6
Chapter Six
KIERAN
These romance books were pretty good.
Since my folks’ Sunday dinner was tonight, I had the day off and felt like being lazy. Reading romances didn’t feel like work, like reading all the fucking books ever assigned at school always had been. I didn’t want to find a cheat sheet for it.
I actually… wanted to read the words. These small towns described in the books were places anybody would want to live. Time slipped away with every paragraph I read. I had no clue that men might be so caring with each other. Like, in one chapter the guy brought rose petals for their bath. In my past, I’d brought girls some candy or flowers on a date, sure. It was expected. But nobody had ever given me any. It had never occurred to them. But why shouldn’t guys get flowers? I looked around my place. All my many plants were ones I had bought for myself.
I returned to reading. Flipping page after page. With each word, the world got lighter. More hopeful. There were tooth-achingly sweet candy shops and well-stocked independent book stores. And there was usually one bar in the town that all the locals went to on Saturday night but acted surprised to see each other. There were holiday activities or town fairs, and such a sense of community was created, I felt as if somebody draped a warm blanket over me.
And damn, these dudes got busy. Right after the sweet romantic bath, the scene changed. I’d gotten with some freaky females in my time, but Cybil had given me some spice. Had anybody I dated given this kind of attention to my nut-sac? Not to mention my prostate, which I definitely had never focused on. But the guys in the book were obsessed with each other’s. And weirdly, I was here for it.
I never would have thought so. When Elias came out, I was happy for him, even went to a gay bar with him on occasion, but it hadn’t turned me on. I’d drunk a lot and danced. That was it.
I don’t know. Maybe other straight guys like this too? After all, descriptions of how intensely another person could suck dick would make anybody imagine his own dick being sucked like that… right? I had a problem with blow jobs. Most girls couldn’t handle the amount of cum. It was one of the few things I never shared with Cesar because it was embarrassing.
I mentioned it to my doctor once, after I made this girl nearly choke on the rivers of my seed. He came back with the diagnosis of hyperspermia. I got scared, but he explained it is a condition in which a man produces a larger than normal volume of semen, and that mine was not a case with cause for concern. He ran a few other tests for my fertility and stuff, and he advised me to just accept the extra ejaculation.
All my life I worried about being too much for people. My energy level, my scattered habits. My inability to focus on somebody for lengths of time. On my various girlfriends (now friends) anyhow.
Turns out I was too much. Sperm-wise. Imagine the shit I’d take if my siblings found out. And I had yet to tell Cesar because it was around the same time he was worried for his mother, and also… Cesar got weird about my girlfriends.
I usually skipped blow jobs these days—although I fucking loved being sucked. Maybe that was why the romance books were turning my crank? I just missed being blown. And the dudes in this book seemed so good at it. I’d have to ask Elias if that had any truth.
I hadn’t made it to the chapter where the guys did more. But they were talking about it. Which was the one thing in the book I had issue with. Because guys didn’t talk about this stuff. At least… I never had. I can’t think of one girl I’d slept with where we discussed sex in advance, not beyond “is this okay” as we did things to each other.
I also had to use extra condoms at times, and now that the doctor had checked my health for everything under the sun, more and more I imagined going bare. Just creaming with no limits.
I put the book down for a minute to adjust my dick. I’d have to settle for my hand these days. I began squeezing my head, fingering my already wet slit. My dick was rock-hard in no time and I ground it between my hand and stomach. I began to rut against my hand, my precum as usual, clear and overflowing down my fingers to my wrist.
How good it would feel to fuck some sweet thing, grab them, press my cock against their ass. I thrust my hips, imagining it. My dick pulsed, sprayed more precum as I pictured a hard round ass, strong back—I could see that back. All rippling muscles, all strong and firm. My teeth would sink into it, biting it. The ass—waiting to be creamed.
With a loud cry, I came hard, making a mess all over my stomach and chest.
Whoa.
“Fantasies don’t mean anything,” I whispered to my empty apartment.
I hurried to the bathroom and cleaned myself, removing any trace of jizz. I was twenty-three years old, I’d know what I wanted by now, wouldn’t I? Elias had always known he was gay. Cesar too. Wasn’t that how it was?
I should know who I was.
Know who I wanted.
My phone rang, saving me from more thinking. Thank God . I don’t like deep thinking.
“Hey,” said my brother.
“What’s up?” I asked, swallowing my resentment.
If pretty privilege was real, Elias had it. However, his looks had never made my brother happy. Elias was imaginative and funny, warm and kind. Didn’t he deserve somebody special? And Cesar was the most loyal fucker in the universe. He’d give his heart and loyalty to Elias if given the chance. Stick up for Elias the same way Cesar always stuck up for me. I was popular and could usually charm my way out of things, but on the rare occasion I couldn’t, and some bully would pick on me, Cesar would suddenly appear, and tell them if they touched me he’d “deal with them.” The bullies surrounding me took one look and believed him. Although I shouldn’t have liked that, I kind of did. Not that I ever let Cesar actually punch any of those assholes.
He defended my flaws. Way before my parents had finally stopped dismissing my extra energy and “bouncing off the walls” as just “being Kieran.” Cesar told me it wasn’t my fault. He was a hot-tempered boy, who saved his sweetness for me. A tough boy, hiding a gentle heart.
And he’d do that for Elias, offer his protection, or help with whatever Elias might struggle with. I should be excited to set them up… Why wasn’t I?
“How’s Brooklyn?” I asked.
“Good…”
“You sound enthused.”
Elias laughed. “Yeah, maybe I’m tired of it at the moment. Been working some long hours. And I got this new irritating coworker.” He sighed. “Maybe I’m just ready to come home for some of Mom’s Christmas cookies.”
Thinking about his coming home made me think about Cesar. Somehow, I wanted to warn Elias to be a good guy, because if he wasn’t I’d have to withhold Mom’s cookies from him or something.
“You’ll be here for dinner, right? And then… what, you’ll arrive Christmas Eve?”
“That’s why I called. Can you tell the folks I can’t make it home tonight?”
“But it’s our pre-Christmas, Secret Santa Sunday.”
“I have to do this photo shoot. El dictator, my shitty coworker Hugo, won’t let me out of it.”
“On a Sunday?”
“He doesn’t care. Believe me.” Elias’s voice turned unusually bitter. “He’s this perfectionist photographer who said my last pose was crap and we need a total redo. It’s for this giant multibillionaire cosmetics company—I’m the face of the new cologne—so I have to work. But no matter what, I’ll be home Christmas Eve. I won’t miss the real thing. And I told them— him —that.”
My stomach plummeted. Cesar would be devastated if Elias wasn’t here to add his name to the Secret Santa drawing. His whole Santa surprise would be blown. Unless he just told Elias how he felt? Asked him to go to the bus at Christmas? Cesar wouldn’t do it. He was too shy. As tough as he was in a ring, he wilted at social situations. He had to hide behind the Secret Santa ruse.
“That sucks,” I said to Elias. “But how about something to look forward to? I can still add your name to the Secret Santa basket.”
“The thing is I don’t have time to shop for whoever I would draw. That isn’t fair to the game. It’s supposed to be give and get—not just get. Hugo is going to have me locked away in the studio twenty-four seven until we finish this. And it will come down to the end of December.”
Boy, whoever this Hugo was, my usually calm brother couldn’t stand him.
“Well, the family will understand. Or hey, I can get your person and give them a gift from you. And whoever draws your name, will still get you a gift, so you can join in all the fun Christmas Eve.”
“Okay, whatever you think is fair.”
“It is. Trust me.”
“It’s only Secret Santa. Why do you sound like you’re handling a family heirloom?”
“No, it’s not a big deal. I’m just being stupid.”
We chatted about Samson’s school play and the latest updates on Dad’s remodel of the basement which he never seemed to finish.
“Miss ya,” Elias said before he hung up.
His absence tonight made it easier. I’d let Cesar go first to draw, and he’d “pick” Elias. Then I’d do two names and double up on my Secret Santa shopping, one random member of my family, and… Cesar. I could pick Cesar. The same way he was picking my brother. The difference being, if Cesar’s seduction of Elias backfired on him, at least I could give him a present he might like. At least… he’d still have me.
Screw this. Time to watch some mindless crap on television. I had to lose myself in something else besides all these thoughts loping around in my brain. I grabbed the remote and began to channel surf. A gazillion channels and nothing looked good. Until I landed on Mean Girls .
“Oh my God, yes.”
I must know half the dialogue by heart. I just loved it. Maybe it wasn’t a holiday movie exactly, but the Winter Talent Show part? Perfection. The defeat of the Plastics. I enjoyed seeing a Queen Bee get what she deserved. Most of all, it made me appreciate my friends. Especially one giant sulky guy, who would never trash-talk or betray me.