Boys Who Like Boys: 3

by Miss Kitty E

The conversation turned out to be pretty longwinded; Chris and Joey both were talkative, argumentative, and gregarious. Lance felt normal though, because Chris and Joey and Justin all talked about normal things but within the context of being gay or bi, and it all felt so blissfully unremarkable. Nothing felt rebellious, or wrong, or taboo at all. Lance wondered if there was a way to feel like this all the time.

Lance and Justin gave each other long suffering looks throughout, until one finally signaled a cease and desist and they were forced to shell out their half of the bill and pull their boyfriends in opposite directions. Lance looked back after they had all said their formal goodbyes. Chris and Justin were headed off in the direction of Chris's car, hands brushing together as they walked.

Justin looked back at them and waved. Lance wondered how he and Joey looked, walking away. If they vibrated with the same excitement, seemed to be pulled by the same gravity as Chris and Justin. He felt they way they looked. He swayed from Joey, slightly out of rhythm with Joey's gait, and was reeled back in with an arm around his waist.

"Where do you wanna go, huh? We've got some time."

"I dunno," Lance said coyly. "Where can we go?"

"Driving," Joey suggested. "Or for a walk, or to a coffee house. You know, wherever."

"You don't like coffee."

"Driving then?" Joey said, looking hopeful.

Lance smiled, "Sure, that might be fun."

Chris' car pulled out and they honked quickly; Lance waved and Joey tipped his head at them and smiled. He wondered what it was like for them, to do anything they wanted in a real bed, to sleep together, have breakfast in the morning. Lance was pretty sure it had to be worth all the hiding and white lies.

Conversation faded along with the streetlights and houses and when Joey pulled into the parking lot Lance felt his stomach twist. Suddenly, he had no idea of what to do with his hands, where to look, or if he should smile. He had done this plenty of times before but he always forgot. He did remember, this time, to undo his seat belt.

"It's muggy outside, I don't think I wanna go for a walk," Joey mused. There was a spot they went to sometimes, an isolated place in the park, to stretch out if they wanted.

Lance nodded his agreement and turned a little in the seat, bringing one leg up a little, knee bent with his ankle resting on his other knee. Joey pulled the keys out of the ignition and put them in the coin tray for safekeeping. Lance blinked his eyes to adjust to the sudden dark; he closed them just as soon as Joey leaned forward.

Here, too, Lance felt normal. Just another kid, making out on a Saturday night, thinking about big steps and little steps, and being pretty sure that this is what he wanted to be doing. Joey's hand brushed Lance's face and he felt his whole body thrum. Yeah, this was exactly what he wanted to be doing. And, thankfully, with exactly the person he wanted to be doing it with.

It was a while- not too long because Lance's mouth didn't feel too abused, he could go on for a quite a while more –before Joey pulled away and said, "We should get in the back, the gear shit is poking the shit out of me."

Lance nodded and hopped out of the car sort of ridiculously fast. He didn't meet Joey's eyes over the roof of the car, suddenly shy. The air outside was stagnant and humid, his breathing was still deep and hurried, filling his lungs with cottony air and making him feel sluggish. He settled into the backseat, wedged in the corner, with the arm rest on the door not so much digging as butting up against his back. He'd get used to it, he thought, not willing to find a better position when Joey slid in beside him, body twisted at an angle.

Lance laughed involuntarily when Joey's mouth found his again but Joey didn't seem to find it insulting. He didn't know he'd done it; just felt a flutter in his stomach, and Joey's hand settle on his hip. He got ticklish sometimes. He felt Joey's hand rub a little on his side and wiggled in response, still sort of ticklish but in a different way.

When Joey's hand slipped under his shirt, he gasped and jerked but didn't laugh at all. Just shut his eyes tightly and kissed Joey harder. Okay so it was going a little further but that was alright, because it was just Joey's hand spanning his stomach, thumb rubbing a smooth circle around Lance's navel. It would be really good if Joey's hand slid up and pinched a nipple or... oh... Joey's hand was going south instead.

Lance shifted, not away or toward, just shifted and Joey paused, pulled away a little. Lance pulled him back and that seemed answer enough for a while.

Joey's fingers pulled at the button on Lance's jeans and he wondered if he should be doing it back. Like, shouldn't it be mutual? But he really didn't know what Joey intended to do after he worked the zipper down, could be anything, really- poking around for a bit, getting him off, hell maybe, he'd take a picture. So he waited for Joey to ask or for things to get a bit clearer.

The first tiny brush of Joey's hand, through his boxers even, sent a short circuit through Lance's brain. Sparks cascaded everywhere, lights blinked off, fuses melted together.

"Lift up a little," Joey whispered into his neck before he started making the red marks Lance always had to hide the next day: beard burn, and teeth indentions, and hickies. Joey was really bad about that stuff but really good at doing it.

Oh wait, he had said something. "Wha?"

"Lift your hips, I wanna, um." He took a breath, "I just wanna um."

Lance looked at Joey numbly and waited for the end of the sentence.

"I wanna suck you off." Joey said it fast, all in one breath, and ducked his head a little. Lance had never known Joey to be embarrassed.

"Okay," Lance said it before he really meant it, before he really understood. And then Joey's hands were back and Lance remembered to lift his hips, again before he could really think about it.

He felt extraordinarily embarrassed. Embarrassed he was so hard, embarrassed that it popped up a little when he and Joey had finally worked his jeans down his thighs, embarrassed when Joey whispered, "Shit," real soft and leaned down. He sat back and put his hand on Joey's hair, petting it gently and sucking in a breath before Joey wet his lips and, well, went down.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. He lifted his hand and fisted it in the air; the sudden sensation ebbed just a little and he caught himself. Combing his fingers through Joey's hair, he focused on getting his breathing back in control. He swallowed, and licked his lips. His mouth felt dry again after just a few panted breaths. Joey's mouth, though, oh, felt hot and wet and soft and tight, everything it should.

He grunted and started panting, wanting to come now, but Joey's rhythm was a little slow. He didn't want to push though or tell him to go faster because frankly Joey was a fucking God for even doing this. He wondered what Joey would ask for in return, tit for tat. He didn't know if he would have the courage to try this out himself. Maybe, a hand job, that would be- he threw his head back, and thrust shallowly. Joey made a startled noise but didn't stop –that would be so fucking hot.

On the backs of Lance's eyelashes he saw it, Joey's cock in his hand for the very fucking first time. He could do that. He could do that right, or at least well. Slick his palm and wrap his hand around it and make Joey do just what Lance was doing now; gasp all short of breath and mutter strange words, be willing to give him anything, anything at all for a little more. His fingers curled into a fist and wanted it, now. The images were so vivid in his mind and his body was pulled so taut around one sensation that Lance came mid-word, mid-thought, mid-breath. He shuddered and thrust up and then spent an embarrassingly long time trying to recover.

He looked down and realized he was still... out and stuff. Flapping in the breeze as it were. He hitched up pants and looked over at Joey who was panting softly, swallowing over and over like he was trying to avoid some aftertaste. Oh. Lance blushed again and scooted over. Joey sighed as Lance reached for Joey's waistband.

"You don't have to."

Lance shook his head and pushed Joey's hands away. "I want to."


Lance ran up the path to his house grinning, not entirely innocently. He turned quickly to wave as he heard Joey's car engine rev slightly on it's struggle up the hill. When Joey turned back onto the main road, he looked back at his door. One breath, then two, enough to switch from one face to the next; carefree contentment replaced with deliberate sobriety. They probably wouldn't be up.

He opened the door and heard the TV. Okay, one of them was up. No need to talk to them, just a hello and a quick jog up the stairs.

"Hey." He made for the stairs.

"Lance?" It was his dad, and of course it would be; his mom never really stayed up. Lance paused, one foot on the first step.

"Yeah?" He didn't really think his dad would want to talk. He didn't move to the living room, where he could see his dad on the couch.

His father didn't really look away from the TV. "It's late, son. And there's church tomorrow."

Lance nodded. "I know."

"Goodnight then." It was one of those goodnights that was really just an order. Lance obeyed. He walked up the stairs slowly, working things out. If. If it had been a girl would his dad- with mom safely away in bed -would his dad have been wry with him? Asking him all about how the date went, wanting to know all about it? Maybe. Lance didn't know because he'd never really gone on a real date in Mississippi. He'd had a girlfriend in 7th grade but all it had really entailed was eating lunch together and writing each other long and pointless notes. No real dates. Nothing real.

He got to his room and slowly closed the door. He lay on his bed and thought about too many things at once. There was Joey and the memories and promises of tonight that made Lance blush, made him aware of a void inside that would be filled completely by Joey's presence. There was the father and the cold, dark distance between them and the niggling fear that maybe Lance wasn't being completely honest with himself.

Right now. Right this very second, he felt like he was probably, really just gay. He thought about Joey and how much he fucking wanted him. But also about Justin and JC and now Chris, his gay friends and the fact that he felt most at home with them. he thought that should be a little wrong. He should want to bring up girls sometimes, he should feel his eyes wander, but they never did. Just Joey. And the only time he remembered being really distracted is when Justin wore the shirt that was too short and would ride up if he stretched or leaned forward.

He thought about that for a while: Justin's back, and Joey's hands, and um, what he'd seen earlier tonight, and how fucking hot that made him. He tried to think about girls in the same way and he could think of some girls he thought were pretty, but was that the same? Even if he was gay he could tell if a girl was pretty or not, right? When he thought of naked breasts or long, smooth thighs, his mind sort of just wandered back to Joey and, wow, that stuff tonight.

He didn't really want to be completely gay though. Because being bi was really hard enough. He couldn't tell some of his friends, straight friends, people who didn't know him very well, who his date was with this Saturday because they'd give him a look. And if he was completely gay that would make religion a little harder. He'd have to find a church that accepted that; he wasn't going to hide that forever.

He huffed, complicated shit, this stuff, and probably just a whole lot of bull. He got out of bed, toed off his shoes, and took off his clothes, leaving them were they fell. He thought about getting a t-shirt to sleep in but his comforter was on the bed; that would be warm enough. He'd think about all this tomorrow. Not during church though because he generally tried to avoid thinking about this sort of stuff in church. It was... it wasn't wrong, more and more Lance refused to believe that this was wrong, but it just... it could be done elsewhere. That time was for God.

He slipped into bed and tried not to think about his dad, or Joey, or being gay or anything like that because it would keep him up. He thought of a song instead, got it stuck in his head, and let that sort of mildly frustrate him until he fell asleep.

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