Chapter 6 Can’t stop thinking about the sky #2
Settling down, I decide to do a normal activity that normal people do on the weekend and get my dusty remote from the shelf.
I can't remember the last time I used my TV.
I press through the many subscriptions I unnecessarily pay for every month.
After scrolling for what feels like forever, I settle on a show called Vikings.
I remember Macy yapping a long time ago about how hot the lead actor was.
I don't watch TV and apart from googling Dexter the second I got home from meeting Leon last month, I never had any interest in actually watching something. I settle in, preparing to abandon this in a few minutes when the lead actor’s face comes on screen, and holy shit, do I forget how to breathe.
This guy looks like my Leon. My? What the fuck?
While his face is more angular and gives off a mysterious and cunning vibe, the resemblance to Leon is there.
My unicorn is softer looking, with a rounder face and kind eyes, but if he grew a beard and tied his hair back, I would imagine he would be mistaken for this guy's brother.
I'm hard before I even know what's happening and every time the actor is on screen I see Leon's face.
But then, as if things could not get any worse, the guy loses his shirt and I groan into the couch cushion.
I haven't relieved the tension since that night, for fear of Leon's face popping into my head when I came.
It was a weak argument, seeing that his face figured in my constant daydreams regardless.
I pull my shirt underneath my chin and run a hand from my collarbone across my chest. My nipples pebble immediately, turning into hard peaks and I imagine Leon's big hand caressing firmly over my skin.
I trace my barely there abs and move my hands to the side above my hip bones, slipping into the deep V lining each side of my pelvis.
I dip my fingers in hard and imagine Leon pushing me down while he settles between my legs.
He's so big and looms over me while my legs spread on their own and I rush to yank my sweats down mid-thigh along with my boxers.
My cock springs free and hits under my belly button and I moan at the contact.
I give it a quick squeeze near the base to alleviate some tension, but I only get hotter with the contact, so I thrust in my hand one, two and come on the third time all over my stomach.
This has to be some kind of personal record, I swear I lasted longer when I was thirteen and discovered the tiny shorts that the track team in high school wore as a poor excuse for a uniform.
My breathing finally calms down after a few minutes and I curse again at the universe.
You'd think with the way my childhood went, I'd be due for some better fucking luck than being completely infatuated with a straight guy I met in passing and will likely never see again.
Where the fuck is my good Karma? Has the bitch left the building?
The TV show is long forgotten and for the first time in ages, I find myself longing for someone to talk to.
I do well on my own, but in moments like these I can't stop thinking about Mr. Grey and how he would silently offer support and companionship when the world was too much.
I'm suddenly stuck in the memory of coming out to him at fifteen and how I felt like I was about to puke for days before making the decision to just tell him.
Nothing in how he treated me previously, with a soft look and kind words, would have led me to believe he would be anything but accepting; however, the pressure of losing the one person who was remotely close to me, a grandfather figure of sorts, scared the shit out of me.
I didn't even want to talk about how I got my first handjob exchange from douche canoe Trav, who was on the football team and deep in the closet, or how he pushed me away after and told me it was disgusting.
Fuck that guy and his slow glances, whenever he caught sight of me in the halls.
I would never let someone disrespect me like that again, even if I somewhat sympathised with how he might struggle.
Not everyone was as confident in their gayness and he would probably need to work through it for years.
Not that I would know, since I avoided him like the plague until graduation, when I gave him a single nod and left like my ass was on fire when I realized he looked hopeful to have a conversation with me.
That book was closed, done and I wasn't going back to that ever again.
Even if I didn't keep my sexuality a secret, no one at school knew since I didn't advertise it and was very private, all my hook-ups were people from other schools from that day onward.
I don't even remember the words I spoke to Mr. Grey when I told him, I only remember how I was shaking like a leaf and had one foot out the door and ready to sprint if I saw an ounce of disgust on his face.
I could handle it from anyone else, just not him.
The only expression on his face however once I got it out was a No shit, kid look, followed by a soft Ok.
After which he proceeded to pull out the chessboard and we played in silence for two hours until it was time to go back to the foster home.
It was one of the best days of my life and I feel my throat close up the same way it does when I remember it, so I carefully put it back in the box I keep locked tight and will myself to think about something else, settling on my unusual friendship with Macy.
I decide to take her out to lunch tomorrow, because even though I complain about her annoying me, she is my closest friend and probably my only real one.
My relationship with Richard is a mentor-mentee one and, while I can see he cares for me, I strive to keep it as professional as possible.
My cum is sticky on my skin where it has now dried and is pulling on my happy trail, so I decide to take a shower and have an early night. I dream about blue skies and big, strong hands wrapped around me.