I could always tell by the tone of his stifled whimper when he was about to reach his big finish. I could almost count it down to the actual second of orgasm, and this time was no different.
I never considered myself a bottom before I actually found my first boyfriend here in college. I never actually 'tested' it out before. Not with another person, anyway. But Chris...mmmm...Chris was everything that I imagined having an actual 'boyfriend' would be like. He was cute and sweet and sexual...I was lucky to hook up with him when I did. Somebody else might have snatched him up before I ever got the nerve to talk to him on my own. I doubt I'd ever be able to forgive myself. Sometimes I had to make sure that all of this was real. That it wasn't some detailed fantasy that I was making up in my mind to pass the time. Luckily for me, he reminded me of just how real it was with every kiss he gave me. It was great.
I was laying face down on the sheets, hearing the squeaks of the mattress as Chris drove himself deep into me time and time again. Sometimes I'd squeeze my cheeks a little to make him yelp from the extra tightness. "Ooh shit, Eli! Yeah!" He would sometimes push really far inside me, and make these circles with his hips that would playfully tickle that magic spot with every grind. It made my whole body shiver and tingle when he did that. I have to admit, a great deal of it could be somewhat painful. In fact, MOST of it could be pretty painful most nights. But when he hit that spot and expertly toyed with it like that, it made that little bit of 'ouch' worth it, you know? Besides, Chris wouldn't ever let anyone top him. Hehehe, we already had that discussion. Too bad, he's got a cute ass. Not that I'd really have any idea what I was doing up there on top. But I bet it would feel awesome.
I felt his chin rest on my shoulder, a light dusting of stubble scratching the surface of my skin, and he began panting in my ear. Another cue that his orgasm was coming any second now. I'd know for sure when he leaned forward and began kissing my cheek from the side.
"Ahhh...fuck! You're still so tight!" And there he goes. A few kisses while he speeds up his pumping, and his back hunches up for the final assault. This was the part where he kinda forgot all about me and just concentrated on getting to the 'finish line'. I usually had to bury my face into the pillow at this point and just hold on. It would hurt a bit more as his thrusts became more reckless, but it turned me on to know how much he enjoyed my body. Sometimes I would explode all on my own, just from the friction of having him push me up and down into the mattress, but tonight I was only half hard from it. I guess you could say that it was an off night for me. But my boyfriend was definitely getting his mind blown from the feel of it.
"Ungh! Ungh! Oh god! Oh shit! Here it comes!" He gasped, and he pushed in as far as he could, moaning and shaking in his release. His arms were trembling as he hovered above me, and once he had finished bursting, he collapsed on top of my back, and stroked my soft light brown curls with his fingers. "Mmmm...I love you, Eli." He told me, melting into my back and wiggling slowly until he slipped out of my hole. We were both gasping for air in giant gulps, and it took a few minutes for him to roll his weight off of me and over to the side. Allowing me to breathe freely again.
"I love you too, Chris." I said dreamily. Looking at him now, sweat on his brow, his big brown eyes looking back at me as I admired him...I was amazed that he actually turned out to even be interested in me. I scooted closer to him and kissed him on the lips briefly, but he gently pushed me back right afterwards. Hehehe, Chris was never much of a 'cuddler'. I don't know why not. I always thought that cuddling was kinda...you know...'cute'. He thought it was too girly. But it was a small sacrifice to make for a boy of his caliber, believe me. He was, like, Calvin Klein underwear model beautiful, you know? From the top of his spikey dark brown hair, all the way down to his toes. And he was ripped too in the front. He had a rock hard set of abs that you could wash your laundry on, and his arms were strong and firm as a rock. Damn it was sexy.
"Dude...I can't think of anything I'd rather do than fuck you over and over again. You're the best piece of ass I've ever had. Ever." He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
"Me too." I smiled. I dreamily looked at his chest, and wished that I could lay my head on it, just so I could listen to the pound of his heartbeat. "I'm gonna miss doing this five times a day when classes start up again."
Chris gave me a wink. "Then we'll just have to make up for it after classes are done every day. Won't we?" I felt a momentary weakness in my stomach, and squirmed a bit as I nodded in the affirmative. "Why don't you get up and take a shower? I'll order us a pizza. K?" He smiled.
I instantly nodded again. "Okay..." I gave him another quick kiss before he could get away from me, and got up to walk into the bathroom to clean myself up. Just another lovely night in our dorm room.
I stood under the nozzle of the shower, and let the spray wash over me. It was so soothing to be under a cascade of warm water after a sexual interlude. It relaxes you inside and out. I was almost twenty years old now, just seven months away, about to start the second semester of my sophomore year at college. I was always anxious about what the college experience would be like, but I was never prepared for all of this. It was beyond awesome. I was officially out of the house, half way out of the closet for the first time in my life, and living in a dorm room with my first ever boyfriend. Every day was a magical experience for me. See...the dorm rooms were extremely big here. I actually feel bad for my friends from high school who went to other colleges where all you got were two beds and a desk. Those things were crackerboxes in comparison. We had two full bedrooms, our own bathroom, and a small kitchen area. It was more like an apartment than a dorm room. I loved it. It was made for four people to live in originally, but our other two roommates had...'grade issues', and lost their financial aid. Which means Chris and I were going to have this place to ourselves for the next three months. We are going to have so much SEX in this place that we're gonna put veteran porn stars to shame! And hopefully, some time after, we can get an apartment of our own somewhere in town. Some place nice, where we won't have to ever stop being so 'intimate'. It was like living in my very own fairy tale.
"Hey, hurry up. What are you doing? I gotta get in there and clean up before the pizza gets here." Chris said from behind the door ten minutes later.
"Ok, babe. I'm coming." I called back to him. I know he doesn't really go for the whole affectionate name thing, but I find myself doing it automatically from time to time. I can't help it, I can be a bit of a hopeless romantic. It's just a part of my personality. I kinda write my own fiction as a way to clear my head. Always have, ever since I was little. As soon as I was old enough to realize that I could put words together, write them down, and actually come back to read them again later...I've been addicted. To be able to translate something as intangible as an emotion into something concrete, something 'alive' and breathing that other people can actually enjoy, is the greatest blessing in the world for someone like me. Especially now that my emotions can actually be set free and I can be my true self in every word that I write. It's the most liberating feeling imaginable.
Anyway, me being a romantic is now coming to clash with actual life experience. I'm not disappointed, mind you. I'm having a blast. My vision just took some adjustment from the overinflated fantasy that I created from my many years as a sexless virgin in high school. That's all. Creating a story of beauty and tenderness is what I do, and on a page it's easy to create this perfect match of people, and add all of these mushy little moments of tenderness and warmhearted fun. But in real life, I guess relationships take a lot of hard work. A lot of sacrifice and compromise and the occassional argument. There are a bunch of times when Chris and I just don't get along at all, like we're strangers or something. Sometimes he just wants to be away from me for a bit, and sometimes I just want to be alone. I'm guessing that's all a part of the process of being with someone else. But I'm learning as fast as I can, and I should expect some stumbling blocks here and there, right? He's my first, afterall.
Chris and I found each other at this party on campus my first week there. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He was so beautiful to me. I was used to high school events, where everybody had to fit into a certain clique or a certain group of popular kids in order to matter. And God help you if you dared to cross the line to mingle with a crowd who wasn't 'used to' having you around. But Chris....sighhh...he just talked to everybody around him like they were all at a family barbecue. And not with some rehearsed manner of speech either, no way. He was just this totally approachable, genuinely witty, individual that dared to stand out from the background, and it was entertaining to watch him work. He'd clinked his beer bottle with anyone else who was drinking. And if you weren't drinking, he'd put an arm around your shoulder and take you over to the fridge personally to grab you something. I was SO caught off guard by that when he did it to me. He gave me my first beer ever. Of course, I didn't really like it, sipped it like it was gasoline in a cup, and even THAT gave me a headache the next day...but there was something special about him giving it to me that made me keep drinking until the cup was gone. It was worth the minor hangover just to see his dimples up close. Hey, sorry! What can I say? I inherited my mother's tolerance for alcohol...which is absolute zero.
We kinda got to talking in some quiet corner of the party, and he took me back to his room that very night. I can distinctly remember him telling his roommate to take a hike. Hehehe, I had no idea why he would do that at first...I mean, I didn't even really expect him to be GAY at first. But the second we were alone, he kissed me deeply on the lips, rubbed my back, stuck his tongue in, and we just....kept going from there. Hehehe, he told me that he knew I was the hottest boy at the party from the moment he saw me. He still smiles when he looks at me from across the room sometimes, and it usually leads to another spontaneous session of moans and whimpers that leaves us both satisfied. Anyway, he eventually took off his shirt to show me what he was working with, and lifted mine off shortly after. Things kinda progressed from there, and...we 'did it'. Hehehe! Something in my mind told me not to just go for it on the first 'date' and have my virgin experience be with a complete stranger. But something in my pants told me that there were no holds barred! And if I let this hottie go unfulfilled because of some strange morals that I probably picked up on watching reruns of "7th Heaven" on television...I'd be a damn fool and didn't deserve a boyfriend. So yeah...we did it. And we did it again. And he kept calling me up to his room for more over the next few weeks. And now...here we are. Living together, and loving it. I didn't expect the real thing to happen this fast, but I don't go around looking gift horses in the mouth either. On the other side of that bathroom door is a boy that makes me feel better than I've ever felt before in my life. Someone who makes me feel sexy, and wanted, and free. And....I love him. Hehehe, I really do! I LOVE him! We've been together for three months now, and life is great.
I finished washing up and stepped out of the shower to grab a towel. I dried myself off, and as soon as I opened the door, Chris was standing there naked, handing me the money for the pizza. "Here! He'll be here any minute. Look out, I gotta get in here." He practically pushed me out of the bathroom and shut the door as I tried to thrash him on the ass with my towel. Hehehe, geez...don't 'rush' me or anything. My god, it's just a pizza.
We ate together on the couch that night, even though he ordered mushrooms on it, and he KNOWS I hate mushrooms. Yuck! Picking them off doesn't really do much good, you know? You can still taste it. Then we watched a movie he picked out from the video store, and we actually made love one more time before he was ready to go to sleep. He was one of those early to bed, early to rise types. Usually in bed by eleven o'clock most nights. Unless he was out partying with friends, then he might be able to make it until one or two in the morning, but you'd better keep him moving. Especially when he drinks. Blechh! Nasty kisses. I, on the other hand...was always more of a night person. A LATE night person, to be exact. By the time 3 AM rolls around, I'm just getting started. There's something so tranquil, so amazingly comforting, about being up in the middle of the night. I like the dark, and the quiet. It gives me time to think. And that's usually when I do my best writing.
I sit at my desk, with only a small eight dollar lamp shining on the keyboard, and my ratty old 'lucky' notebook with the cover missing. The rest of the room is pitch black, and Chris is in the other room snoring like crazy. But with a pair of headphones and my special 'spotlight', I'm hoping to really make some good progress on this new story of mine. I've got almost ten pages written and I haven't even thought of a good title yet...but it'll be my very first gay love story since I've had an actual boyfriend in my life. I can't wait to see how it turns out, you know? I want it to be really good! Better than anything that I've ever written before. I just don't understand why I've been so locked up on good ideas lately. It used to come so easy to me. It's like...the writer's block is completely cutting me off from the part of my brain that can verbally express any kind of real emotion, and it's driving me crazy. I keep looking at what I've written so far, and for some reason it seems so bland to me. Uninteresting. Fake. Mechanical. It's not right. It's not coming together like it should. I keep trying to fix it, but I only succeed in making it worse. Sighhh...the more I stare at that page, the more it frustrates me. Maybe I should just get some sleep and try again tomorrow. The 'good story fairy' is definitely not with me tonight.
By the time I dragged myself out of bed the next morning, Chris was already gone. He didn't say goodbye, but I'm sure he just wanted to let me sleep in. I've never been a morning person, not a day in my life. Still, it made the bed feel kinda cold and empty that day for some reason. I look forward to waking up in his arms. Hehehe, I know it sounds silly, but...it's what I dream about, you know? It's a piece of my perfection. Ahh, just as well. I didn't need the sexy distractions before my first day of classes anyway. I've gotta get dressed and get my ass to the Michigan Avenue building before I end up being hopelessly late.
Registration had been a long, painful, and miserable, experience when I had to pick classes this semester. But despite the fact that a lot of my required classes were already full by the time I got to register, I was able to get into a Fiction Writing class with a teacher that was known for being really fun as well as helpful when it came to building the instincts of your craft. I was at that school for something totally different, my major was completely unrelated, but writing has always been extremely relaxing for me. Somewhere between a hobby and a necessity for dealing with the day's leftover thoughts and problems. It's a 'release'. A personal therapy to help me make sense out of my own jumbled thoughts. I love it so much that I doubt I could ever stop. And now I was actually going to be around other people who loved it just as much as I did. At least, that's what I was hoping for. A chance to be around my 'colleagues', you know? People who understand and appreciate the method as well as the end product. I have to admit, it excited me like you wouldn't believe to know that I was gonna get to be immersed in the art of it all. I hope I add up to the competition.
I went into the student cafeteria to grab a quick slice of cheese pizza and an orange juice. I know....I just had pizza last night. But can you really have too much? I sat down at a table and scarfed about half of it down, trying to finish the rest before class. It was then that I took my usual scan of the room, and tried to count how many cute boys there were around me. Hahaha, yeah, it sounds weird. But it's something I do. I literally count how many of them I would totally sleep with if I didn't already have a boyfriend. Once you make an addictive habit out of something like that, it's hard to let go of it. Hey, I may be committed, but that doesn't mean that I'm not allowed to look, does it?
I counted about four or five boys right away. There are a LOT of heartbreakers here at this school, I swear! Ooh...and there's number six! Damn...he's hot! Literally made me turn pink just from looking at him. And then...then came the ultimate 'pick of the day'.
He was about my height, but looked a bit taller due to his long arms and legs. He had the kind of smooth, sweethearted, appearance of the classic 'boy next door'. You know the type. They're the best friend you've ever had, but you would screw their brains out in a heartbeat if you ever had the opportunity. As he walked past me, he kinda looked over, and gave me this really amazing smile. It was more than a polite greeting. It was the kind of smile that you give a friend that you haven't seen in ages and wanted to catch up with, you know? It forced me to smile back involuntarily, and I prayed that I wasn't blushing as badly as I thought I was. Jesus, I can be such a sucker for a cute face. I'm a sucker for pretty eyes too, and this boy had the prettiest eyes that I had ever seen on another male specimen. It made me wiggle in my seat when I saw them, even from a distance. Geez...this place has got to be right next door to heaven for so many angels to be walking around freely like this.
I made sure to get to class a few minutes early. College teachers seem to take an instant disliking to you if you're late on the first day. I didn't need that. It was a much more intimate setting than I was expecting for a creative writing class. The room was only big enough to hold about 30 people at the most, and our class wasn't even half that, including the teacher. The desks were positioned in a circle so that everyone could see everyone else, and the whole vibe of the place really felt like home. I think I like this class already.
And then....came an added bonus.
He skated in the door just seconds before class started, a candy sweet grin on his kissable lips. It was the same angel faced boy from the cafeteria. I had already counted the cuties in the room, and was stuck at two, with a possible third if he shaved that ratty beard off of his chin. What can I say? There were a lot of girls in my class this time around, hehehe! But when 'he' entered the room, he instantly became the number one draft pick of the whole lot all over again. It excited me. I watched anxiously as he took a seat on the other side of the circle from me, and started digging through his bag for a notebook. I didn't want to seem like a creep or anything, but he was really pleasing to the eye, you know? The kind of fragile beauty that you just had to stare at to make sure that you were actually seeing this in real life. It was almost as though you started to instantly look for a hidden physical flaw that would somehow keep him from wrecking the 'beauty curve' for the rest of humanity. I didn't really find one, personally.
He looked slightly younger than me, but not by much. And had this really soft waifish build, almost girlish in appearance. It didn't help that he had this long shiny blond hair that hung loosely to tickle the tops of his shoulders. It was like the perfect shade of gold, and every hair was in place. He had these expressive bright hazel eyes that would paralyze you with their greenish glow, and he had this small hemp necklace around his neck with a single bead in the center holding it together. He was wearing a black tye dyed t-shirt, and some old blue jeans that were decoratively frayed at the bottom of each leg, a hole in the right knee. And a set of clunky old gym shoes that seemed to appropiately finish off his laid back image. The way he sat in that desk, scribbling in his notebook, his soft hair gliding forward to hang towards the page, his legs spread out in front of him without worry...it was a photographic moment of beauty that I was proud to witness in the flesh.
As I was staring over at him, his eyes slowly floated upward and connected with mine. Even though I wanted to look away before he caught me, it took a moment for me to 'dettach' myself from him. His eyes had a way of holding you still beyond your control. A complete 'deer in headlights' reaction. But he didn't seem to think much of it. He kept looking around the room, glancing at everyone around him, and then writing more in his notebook. His skin was so smooth, like a five year old girl. He'll never have to shave a day in his life. Was he even old enough to be here? He had a real babyface, but I liked it though. It was cute. He's the kind of boy that I would have completely fallen in love with in high school. Everything about him reminded me of all those first gay crushes that I've been entertaining since I was twelve years old. And I get to spend three months with him in this class. Sometimes...fate is just too good to me.
Our teacher, Melissa, was just as cool and funny as I had heard she was. She made every word she spoke seem so natural and fun that you didn't dare miss a phrase for fear that you wouldn't get the joke when it came to the punchline. She delivered her usual syllabus expectations and class rules, and then got right into things by asking us to write a short five minute story in our notebooks. No given topic, no assigned concept or suggested structure. Just write something that we can finish in fifteen minutes. Her only rule, "Make it good." I think I can manage that.
The class went silent. The only sound was the familiar scratch of pen and pencil against notebook paper. Some folks naturally write at a different pace. Some stop to think between sentences and tap their desktops with their writing instrument while they plan their next arrangement of phrases on the page. Others refuse to write a single word until they have the whole story plotted out in their heads and know just what to say without error. But me? I always just write what I feel from beginning to end and think later. Trusting that invisible instinct to just carry me through the writing process with a natural rhythm and flow until it's done. I can always go back and correct it afterwards, right? Besides, interruptions in the natural flow of things always destroys my concentration. All I have to do is agonize for a split second over whether or not I spelled a word correctly, and I'll end up completely losing the whole moment and have to start from scratch. No, I wanted this to be something good. I 'always' want what I write to be good. Not just ok...but good. Even if it sucks, at least the effort will show.
Fifteen minutes can blaze right by you when you're concentrating on something you love. "Alright, pens down. Let's see what our brilliant minds have come up with." Melissa announced. "Ok, why don't we start right over here? Read what you got, and then we'll go around the room to the right until we hear everybody's story."
The young lady she pointed to turned white in an instant. "You mean...read it outloud?"
"Well, sure. Unless you've got a button on your stomach that'll give your silent thoughts subtitles." Melissa grinned. "Folks, the number one purpose of any art is self expression, no doubt about it. But the number two purpose is applause and approval. Afterall, we could walk around 'thinking' about a story all day in our minds. The idea behind writing it down is sharing it with a willing audience. So let's not get shy around here, ok?" Melissa had a real knack for sounding comical even when she explained the simplest of things. I can tell I'm gonna like coming back here twice a week. "So you start us off, say your name first, and give us the title of your story before you read."
The reading started, and gradually worked its way around the room. I heard everything from demons having a barbecue on the beach, to the story of a cat falling off of a high rise balcony. Some of the tales were witty, some pretty twisted, one or two were kinda...well...boring. You can always tell someone who took a class for an easy 'A' and some college credit. But I had to sit up straight and perk my ears up when it came to the beautiful boy sitting across from me. I couldn't wait to hear what he wrote. He intrigued me off of his looks alone. If his soul is anything like the package it's wrapped in...I'm gonna slide right out of this chair.
"Um...hi, I'm Devon. And my story is called 'The Great Teddy Bear Escape'." His voice was deep and mellow, with a bit of a boyish haze still evident, but it fit him perfectly. And it even had this subtle hint of femininity to its tone, just like the rest of him. He had to push his blond hair back and tuck it behind his ear to keep it out of his eyes while he read out of his notebook, and I have to admit that I was seriously enchanted by him. It was instantaneous. It blindsided me out of nowhere, and I found myself trying hard not to smile as he started speaking. "That's it. I've had enough. I've been sitting on this bed for five years now, and my kid owner just refuses to put me away. I've been hugged, and squeezed, and jerked around since he was three. I've been rolled over, punched, thrown across the room, slept on, drooled on, and tortured. And last month...I actually lost an eye. An EYE, I tell you. This kid is trying to kill me." I listened to his story with an uncontrollable grin. The whole room did. His words were sweet, his delivery was charming with a touch of bashfulness from being on display, and sometimes, when one of us would giggle at a funny line or two, he'd blush and giggle along with us before continuing. I don't know why I was so smitten with him at first glance. The infatuation seemed to hit me like a mack truck and then drag me for miles and miles after it. All I know is that I couldn't stop staring at him. But like I said, I'm just a sucker for a pretty face, I guess. "So yes, this is it. I'm leaving this house. I'm leaving this kid. I'm getting out of this crazy shithole and making a break for Vegas. I thought about taking the stuffed 'Happy Feet' penguin and the Tickle Me Elmo with me, but to hell with them. They can get their own ride. I'm outta here. So long, and farewell. Oh wait...I just remembered. I can't move. I've got no bones, no muscles, no brain. Dammit. So much for that idea. Maybe tomorrow I'll come up with a plan B that doesn't involve movement of any kind. In the meantime, I think I'll just hold onto my one good eye and hope he outgrows me before I end up a hand-me-down toy for his new baby sister. Won't THAT be fun?" He said, and he sheepishly looked up from his notebook and bit the corner of his bottom lip. "Sorry, that's as far as I got before we had to stop. I tried to end it quick though."
Melissa was pleased. "I think that's a very fitting ending indeed. I loved it, Devon, that was adorable. It actually reminds me of the days when I, myself, was a teddy bear. True story." She told him with the rest of us giggling in response. "That's exactly what I'm looking for. It doesn't have to be complex or the beginning of some epic. When you write, you should be able to take in a single moment and give it life. Your voice and your personality should shine through. That's what makes a story your own." Devon turned deep red from the compliments, and I saw his leg bouncing slightly on the ball of his foot, as though he just wanted to scurry into some dark corner and hide from it all. He never took his eyes off of the floor. God, he was fun to watch. Our teacher had to stop there for the day and gave us an assignment for next class. Then she just let us go a minute or two early. Sweet!
I didn't really bring much with me to class, so packing up was easy. But once I left the room, I kinda lingered around for a moment or two longer, hoping to see Devon come out after me. I was fascinated. I just HAD to talk to him! Just....a couple minutes of small talk, that's all. Something inside of me wouldn't be able to rest until I connected with him in some kinda way. I just knew it. I swear, it brightened up my whole day to see him walk out into that hallway, his gentle nature and sweet movements looking like fine poetry personified. I was almost ready to open my mouth and say something to him when I realized....that I didn't have any idea what words I should put together to even approach him. It was like I had suddenly gotten stuck, and my mind froze up on me as he came walking past. "Hey..." He smiled, a little hint of that bashful blush still visible in his cheeks from reading his stuff in front of everybody. DAMN! He was REALLY unavoidably beautiful.
I saw him stop at the soda machine at the end of the hall and dig in his pockets for change. I've got another chance. Good! Now go SAY something before you come off looking even more insane than you already do. I walked over slowly, shaky step by shaky step, feeling a familiar rumble in the center of my stomach. The same jitter that I have been feeling around cute boys all my life. And he looked over at me as I got close enough to speak. His eyes were magic, and he brushed his long hair back again for a moment as he looked at me head on. "I...really liked your story." I said. My breath felt like it was ice cold, giving me a shiver as it left my lungs and rushed out through my parted lips with a dreamy sigh.
"Yeah? Thanks." He said, biting his bottom lip again. It was this timid little habit of his, and it was adorable. He bowed his head forward a bit to look at his feet as he opened his soda can, and his blond locks softly closed their shimmering gold curtain to protect him from my adoring eyes. "I just kinda wrote something down. I didn't know we were going to be reading it out loud in front of everybody like that."
His smile was alluring, his voice a blessing. He kept me smiling by just being there. "Me either. Luckily, I dodged that bullet today." I said. "Saved by the bell and all."
"I hardly think that's fair." He seemed to begin settling into some level of comfort in talking to me, but it was slow to build. His smooth voice sometimes caused him to sound like he was mumbling, but I was listening closely enough to decipher every word. "So, what did you write about?" He asked me after a brief pause.
"Me? Oh...it was stupid."
"More stupid that a talking teddy bear trying to escape his owner?" He smiled, and I felt like I was melting inside. Awwww...I just wanted to take him home and make him a 'pet', you know?
"Um...it was just about...this guy walking home in the rain. And...some of the thoughts on his mind as he got closer to his front door. It was sorta sad, I guess."
His smile widened a bit. "Rain is cool." He said softly. "It doesn't sound stupid to me at all. I've done some of my best thinking in the rain." I didn't exactly know how to respond to that. Besides, I doubt I could have gotten the courage to say the words if I had them. "Well....I've gotta go. I lost my key to my dorm room already, and it's gonna take me a week to get another one. So, if I don't get there before my roommate leaves for his next class, I'm gonna be homeless until he gets back." He said, a bit more of that timidity shedding itself right before my eyes, but only in small shavings.
"Oh? So you're in the dorm too? So am I. What floor?"
"Third. Where are you?"
"Fifth floor, end of the hall." I told him. "We're practically neighbors."
"Yeah. Definitely. Maybe I'll see ya around some time then." Damn, I hope so.
"I'll...be there." I don't even know what I meant by that, but, hey...it was something to say. Too bad I didn't have anything to follow it up with. I'm not usually this much of a geek, but somehow he caused my most awkward impulses to rush to the surface.
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed between us, and he decided to make his exit before it got any worse. "Listen, I've gotta jet. But I'll see you in class on Thursday. K?"
"Sure. That's cool. Devon, right?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah. Hehehe, sorry." He grinned. "What's your name?"
"Cool. Eli. I'll try to remember. I'm so bad with names." He backed up a bit, his smile fully in tact, and then hoisted his small bag up on his slim shoulder. "Later, man."
Wow...what the hell just happened? Hehehe, damn, he's cute! REALLY cute! I felt like I had a crush or something! Hehehe, Chris would tease me so badly if he knew how mushy and weird I felt right now. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was this little spark of something in Devon that just intrigued and excited me to no end. Wow....a whole semester with him. That's gonna be fun. Did I mention how much I totally love college?
Later that night, Chris got the pleasure of having me jump on him the second he walked in the door. Hehehe, it caught him by surprise, but my day just made me feel so good inside. I wanted to share it with the man I love. He couldn't get his clothes off fast enough. He even called off his plans for the night for us to just walk around the dorm room naked for the rest of the night and enjoy some hot times together. I think I wore him out, because he was fast asleep by ten thirty. Leaving me plenty of quiet time to write some more.
It was amazing! The inspiration just poured out of my fingertips at my computer, and it was like my writer's block had completely vanished all at once. That little story of mine that I was writing on the side, just for fun, got an additional five to ten effortless pages that just seemed to come out of nowhere. I could hardly type fast enough to keep up with the thoughts in my head, and I knew that I was gonna have a shitload of editing to do later. Trying to 'out-type' the speed of your own emotional involvement in a scene is going to make for one hell of a reckless mess. But, whatever...it was worth it. I unloaded enough emotion onto that page to literally tire me out, body and soul. And when I was done, I saved it to a special file and smiled proudly at the computer screen. I think it was some of the best writing that I had done in a long time. I should sexually attack Chris and write more often! Because something about tonight just made everything so beautiful. So easy. So pure. I hope I can write like this tomorrow, because my body is forcing me to go to sleep right now, and it would be such a waste to shut down right in the middle of my symphony and lose it all when I wake up again. Chris was only an hour from getting up for his physics class, so I guess I'd better get some snoozing in while I can. But at least I can say that I made some serious progress tonight. Shit! I LOVE having my muse work with me once in a while.
A week or two passed, and since class was twice a week, that was four long days spent with Devon in a small room with a few other people. Naturally, a few faces disappeared as some people dropped the subject from their schedule, or transferred over to something else. But I, personally, loved the class, loved the teacher, and Devon was always a pleasant distraction from every occassional quiet moment that passed by. He began saying hello to me when he came in every day, and his confidence in class discussions and readings seemed to just blossom right before my eyes. He was letting more and more of his true personality show as his shy nature gave way to the natural 'entertainer' in him, and everybody would hang on every word he had to say. The girls LOVED him! Often letting their eyes glaze over whenever he entered the room, they'd try to be coy about getting his attention. But he could playfully shrug off a flirtatious comment like it was nothing at all. Nothing would stick. He wouldn't allow it. And it just made him all the more interesting.
Devon had this witty sense of humor and a killer smile that accented every sly word that he tried to slip by you. He was fun to watch, even when he wasn't doing anything at all. Spying on him from the corner of my eye quickly became my favorite pastime. I would always see him in the cafeteria before class started, even though he always brought a sack lunch of his own and just bought something to drink. Occassionally he'd get a cookie or a donut as well, but not always. And he'd put in his iPod earphones, open his notebook, and start writing all on his own. It was cute to just observe him, you know? To wonder about him, and think about what he's like when he was completely open with someone else. I mean...what would it be like to really be close to him? Without having him hide behind that thinly secluded veil of shyness? I imagine that he must be...just....unimaginably cool to be close friends with. I always contemplate the idea going over to sit at his cafeteria table, or asking him to join me at mine. But I never got the courage. For some reason it was just easier to nod and smile across the room at each other while we both ate alone. Odd. Fun....but odd.
It was late Thursday night, and I had finally gotten myself some quiet time to write some more on my gay love story. Where it had once stalled and became dull and lifeless a few weeks ago, it was now being refreshed with new and creative ideas that didn't even sound like something I was talented enough to write. I never had anything come out so freely before, and I was loving every minute of it. Page after page zoomed past me, and the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write. I guess my heart just had a lot to express lately. And it wasn't gonna stop until it was finished with me.
Chris had gone out to be with some friends of his from back home that night, but I declined to go. They were gonna be drinking and getting rowdy, and I was really not in the mood to pretend to be a part of their little moment. I mean, it's ok and all, but I like Chris better when he's being sober and cute. Drunk and weird I can only deal with in small doses. Hehehe! Besides, I'm sure he's tired of me being so forward lately. I touch him all night long these days, just longing for some kind of affectionate embrace at all times of the day. He's actually had to get up off of our couch and move away from me at times to avoid my 'touchy feely' hands and random kisses. Not that it didn't make me want to cuddle even more than before. I wouldn't be surprised if he went out tonight to get out of my love-hungry clutches for a while.
I took a moment to get some cranberry juice and stretch my legs out before sitting back down at the keyboard. I was locked in now, didn't want to be distracted. I put my headphones on to block out any and all noise, and turned the ringer off of the phone. I needed to focus. I was really on a roll at the moment. My characters were talking to one another like they were real people, making their own jokes and following their own plots. I couldn't have planned this stuff out any better if I tried. The story was literally writing itself, every word spilling out onto the screen as easily as the thought came to mind. Plucked out of thin air and expressed with a level of accuracy that I wasn't really used to. I usually have to struggle for words and phrases and work myself into a migraine headache trying to describe a certain feeling to someone who might wanna read this someday. But tonight? Tonight it was like my mind had a billion words for every emotion in existence, and all I'd have to do was choose a decent combination and let it fly. Maybe it was the class that was helping to make it so easy, I don't know. But this was a whole new level of accomplishment for me, and I didn't ever want it to stop.
I heard a set of keys drop outside the dorm room door, and it made me look over at the clock. Had I really been sitting here for five hours straight? Geez! I had just become aware of the darkness around me, and the silence of the traffic outside. I guess I had lost track of time there for a minute. Whoever it was outside the door picked their keys up, and fumbled around putting it in the lock. Then it opened wide, and Chris came stumbling in with a giant grin on his face. "Hehehe, 'somebody' had a good time tonight." I said, and he giggled sloppily as he came closer to me and dropped down to his knees as I sat at my computer.
"Dude...there were SOOO many hot guys there tonight! You totally should have been there." Even on his knees he was swaying back and forth. "Darryl's brother got us two bottles and a keg! There's still some left for this weekend if you wanna come back with me."
"Hehehe, no thanks. But I'm glad you had a good time, sweetie." I saw him cringe a bit.
"Don't call me 'sweetie', k? God! That's just a bit too gay for me." He giggled.
"Sorry, sorry. I forgot. No 'pet names', I know, pumpkin." He gave me a shove, but ended up pushing himself back further than he pushed me forward. "You know...you're cute when you sway like that." I smiled.
"Well? What are you gonna do about it?" He asked, and I wrinkled up my brow with a grin.
Chris craned his neck upwards, trying to steady himself by putting his hand on my desk, and kissed me on the lips briefly. He gives really sloppy kisses when he's drunk. All wet and loose, you know? Hardly something to write home about. "Hehehe! You need sleep, man. Go to bed already."
"Why don't you come with me?" He said, reaching his hand up into my lap. "We can have some fun now, and go to bed later. What do ya say?"
"I don't think you could keep from passing out long enough to have any fun, Chris." His hand landed on my notebook, and as he slipped a bit, it tore the top page. "Hey! Watch it now!" I lifted his hand to take my, already raggedy, notebook out of his reach...and he plopped backwards on his butt. He spread his legs wide, and showd me a half hard erection that he rubbed through his jeans while staring at me hard enough to make me blush.
"Come on...just one time. Give it a little kiss for daddy. Hmmm? A little suck? I'll let you call me sweetie. But just for tonight."
I was tempted, really I was. Writing a gay love story usually makes me wanna wrap myself up in his strong arms and kiss every inch of him. But....I dunno...tonight I was in a different kind of mood. I was feeling soooo 'accomplished' over what I had written so far that I could barely get myself to look away from it for more than a few minutes. I told him, "Tomorrow, ok? You'll be sober, I'll be horny, and I promise, we'll make love all night long. Besides, I'm in the middle of something right now."
"I kinda wanna get in the middle of something too." He smirked, those cute dimples calling to me as he leaned back on his hands.
"Hehehe, I'm serious. It's my story...it's like...it's grown wings or something! I can't stop it! I've been sitting here writing like a crazy for the last FIVE HOURS, and the ideas just keep coming!" I said, swiveling my chair around to face him as I got more excited. "I barely even look at my notes anymore! I'm almost at FIFTY pages now! And I'm just getting started! Can you believe it?" I said happily, but I saw Chris' eyes glaze over and his mind wander off from what I was talking about.
"Really. Well....hey...way to go." He said softly.
"You know that part that I was stuck on? The one where Roger and his boyfriend were getting ready to go out on their very first date?"
"Who?" He asked.
"Roger." He had no idea who I was talking about. "He's the main character of my story. Remember?"
"Ohhh..." He gave me this artificial look of recognition, "...Yeah...Rogr. I remember now."
"Right. Well, I kinda went back a bit before that, and figured, what if he just met this beautiful guy by 'chance', instead of actually just walking up and asking him out. I mean, it makes it kinda romantic, don't ya think? I really loved the idea of the two of them just having this random crossing of paths and following it to something so....so..." I looked at Chris' face, and I was sure that he was just tuning me out at this point. I don't know, maybe I was boring him. "Well...I mean...it's not important. The important thing is that I've never written this much before. You know? So....maybe when I reach 100 pages...we can celebrate or something."
"Yeah. We'll do that. Just let me know when, k? We'll go to dinner or something. We'll make a night of it." He took his hand off of my lap and tried hard to get to his feet on his own.
"We don't...have to go. I just thought..."
"No, I want to. K? Seriously...that's real nice, Eli. I'm glad you're making progress at writing your...'thing'. Keep at it." He told me blandly. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."
"Oh. Ok. G'nght." I told him. I was a bit disappointed that he couldn't really share in my enthusiasm, but hey...it doesn't mean that I'm not gonna make him take me out anyway when I hit that 100 pages. Hehehe! "Do you need help getting to bed?"
"Nah, I got it." He stumbled into our bedroom and plopped down lazily on the bed. He was passed out and snoring before his head even hit the pillow. I doubt he had time to even get his shoes off. Ah well, I suppose it's hard to get someone who doesn't write stories to get all excited about writing. I can barely even get him to 'read' what I write, much less comment on it with any level of depth. But it's not his fault though. I imagine it would be equally as frustrating for him to try to get me to sit through a whole basketball game with him. I suppose that level of passion is kinda wasted on people who don't completely understand it. Who aren't somewhat absorbed by it. But, you know, that's cool. Whatever. He's still my hot little sweetheart, whether he likes the title or not. Maybe he's right. I should stop writing and shut this machine off before I burn myself out and can't write anything more for a month. I double checked to make sure that I saved it all, and then went to slide myself into the side of the bed that Chris wasn't slumped over on. I was feeling emotionally drained again from pulling so much out of myself and putting it into words, but it seriously relaxed me. Whatever it was that I had bottled up inside of me...it was like I got rid of it all in one night. I emptied myself completely, and now I was free to be filled up with something else. Something more. Something bigger and better than before. I can't wait to see what I come up with next. At this rate, I'll have a whole novel by the end of the semester.
I laid on my back for a while, ignoring the sound of Chris' monsterous snoring, and a beam of moonlight caught my eye through the window. It was subtle and it was soft...but for some reason it made me think of Devon's enchanting smile. And before I knew it...I was smiling myself. God, I'm getting so weird these days.
I leaned over to give Chris a goodnight kiss, and then grabbed as much cover as I could before drifting off to sleep. Honestly, I don't think I've ever been so relaxed.