Date: Mon, 16 Feb 2004 12:31:15 -0800 (PST) From: SJL Subject: Paul and Adam: Chapter Eight See? I told you Chapter Seven wasn't the end. Would I lie to you? I am *so* behind in answering emails. There have been some crisises going on in my family, and I'm the one always called in to take care of things (I'm such a middle child). All this means for you is that I'm late answering all your amazing emails, and that it will probably be about a week until Chapter Nine is finally up. You've really shown how beautiful you are in the past week--I've gotten even more wonderful emails from you since "coming out" as a girl, and I didn't think it was possible to get better responses than I already was. So, thank you, and send more whenever you want. It's geekwriter143@yahoo.com, as always, and I read every one, even if I don't have time anymore to respond to them all. On to Chapter Eight, from Adam's POV ____________________________________________________________ Paul's snoring when I wake up. I stretch out the tightness in my back and roll onto my side to look at him. I touch his parted lips, his chin. His eyelashes are dark against his skin. I watch him sleep, smile at his soft snoring, lay my head next to his shoulder. Ever since Mark found us, I'd had this pressure building inside me. I knew Paul would spin it, knew he wouldn't give me up to Mark, bit still I was left with the feeling that Mark knew more than I did. Or, maybe that he knew what I'd been keeping a secret, even from myself. I told myself it didn't matter what Mark knew, or what he thought he knew. Paul's spin was right. He was the queer one; I was just horny. What guy wouldn't do it if they had the chance? Getting off was getting off, no matter who you did it with, and that's all it was about. I couldn't face Paul. He'd be all sympathetic and understanding and patient, and he'd tell me that it was OK, that I didn't have to know, that he'd take what he could get. And when I saw him, when I ran into him at the quarry, sure enough he was looking at me with these calm, patient eyes and I hated him. I could feel his eyes on me, asking me, "why?" and I wanted to scream at him. Not even words, just scream like some fucking lunatic, like the basket case I was turning into. Laura drove me home and I invited her in. We ended up making out on my bed. It was so wrong. It felt like a joke, and I was relieved when she pulled away from me and said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't do this." She was worried I'd be hurt, but I wasn't. I was relieved because the only person I wanted to kiss was Paul. So I called him. I asked him to come over. I thought we could talk. I didn't plan it. I didn't even know what I was going to say until I said it, but once I did, I knew I meant it. And it was right-feeling him inside me was more right than anything else I'd ever done. There was pain at first, but it was a good pain. And the pleasure, Jesus. The amazing feeling of being filled and the wicked electricity deep inside me. Only two words existed in my mind: fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Paul's asleep beside me and I peel the covers back. I lay my head on his stomach and stroke his flaccid dick, roll it between my fingers. I feel it begin to swell, duck my head down and suck it into my mouth, feel it grow against my tongue. Paul stops snoring. I slip my tongue beneath his foreskin and taste him, musky and strong and so good. This is right. This is what I was meant to do. Paul touches my shoulder, strokes my hair. I turn my body, keeping his cock in my mouth, and gaze up at him. "Hi," he says, still sleepy. "Hey," I say back. He grins at me. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" I laugh and replace my mouth with my hand, stroke it, smile back at him. "I'm in love with your cock," I say. Paul blushes and props himself up on his elbows. "I mean it." I pull the foreskin back, lick the dark pink tip. Paul sucks air through his teeth. "Good?" I ask. He nods. His eyes are heavy with sleep and he falls back and stretches his arms out across the bed. I kiss up and down his cock, sliding my lips across it, reaching out with my tongue to taste his skin. It falls heavy against my face when I let go of it, making me laugh. I rub it against my lips, my cheeks, closing my eyes, breathing in his scent. "What you doing?" Paul asks as pull away from his cock, then move up and lean over him. I open the top drawer on my bedside table and pull out a condom. The lube is already on the nightstand. Paul watches me as I stroke his cock, shivers as I roll the condom down his cock and smooth lube over it. I climb over him, reach behind me and take his cock in my hand, lower myself slowly. My eyes flutter closed as I feel him spreading me, stretching me, and I let out a long breath as he slides in. I'm sore, but it's not bad and he goes in easier than the first time. I lean forward and place my hands beside his shoulders to steady myself as I begin to ride him. Paul reaches up and strokes my face. I kiss his fingers, press my cheek into his palm. "You're so beautiful," he whispers. For the first time, I believe him. I raise myself up, lower back down. The sensation is dizzying. Nothing has ever felt so good. How could anyone not want to do this? Paul wraps his hand around my cock and strokes me slowly. I push myself up, rest my hands on his chest. I can feel him deep inside me, feel the head of his cock brush my prostate with every stroke. Laci used to do it when she went down on me, slide her finger up my ass and massage me there. I never told anyone. I do it myself sometimes when I jerk off, but this is better. This is Paul's cock making me feel so good. In this position I can angle my hips so that each thrust hits the right spot every time. I can increase the pressure where I want it and soon I'm where I was last night, lost in the feelings coursing through me. "Fuck," I whisper. "Oh, fuck, Paul." I like the way the words feel in my mouth, like talking when we're doing something so amazing. I lean my head down, whisper to him. "Your cock feels so good inside me. I want you to fuck me forever. I never want to stop. Does it feel good? Do you like the way my ass feels around your dick?" The words seem to turn Paul on, too. "Yeah," he whispers, his breath coming even faster. He rests his hands on my hips, pulls me down every time I lift up. "You like fucking me?" Paul groans. "Yes," he says. "You like my tight ass?" He nods, swallows hard. "Say it. Tell me you like fucking my ass." He takes a deep breath. He opens his mouth, but doesn't say anything. "I wanna hear you say it, Paul. I wanna hear you tell me how much you like it." "I love it," he says, finally, his voice shaky. "Say you like fucking me." I don't know where the words are coming from, but it feels so hot that I don't want to stop them. "I like fucking you," he whispers. "God, Adam, I love you." I moan as I work myself on his dick. "Your cock's so big inside me. Fuck me with your big cock, Paul." Paul groans, then reaches up to hold onto me as he rolls us over. My thighs are pressed to my chest, my knees hooked over his shoulders and he's fucking me so hard. His balls are slapping my ass, his body curling and tightening as he slams into me. I can't keep my eyes open, arch my neck back and cry out, reach down and start jerking my cock. So close, so fucking close. Paul's grunting with each thrust, not as fast as last night but harder. I'm sore, but that just makes it better, just causes the pleasure to spread even further through me, making my nipples tingle and my toes curl and uncurl, making me claw at Paul's back and grip his ass trying to pull him harder against me. "I'm gonna-" is all I manage to say before I come. I pull Paul's head down and kiss him and cry out against him. His hips are jerking rapidly and then I feel the pulses of his cum shooting out into the condom. He collapses against me, and I wrap my legs around his waist and hold him close, both of us shaking. "Love you," Paul whispers against my ear. "I love you, too," I tell him. I hate it when he pulls out of me. It's the only part that's actually uncomfortable, mainly because I feel so suddenly empty. I want him inside me always. I want to feel that complete every second of my life. Paul's mouth finds my mouth and we hold on to each other as we kiss. I'm shaky and I slide my arms around him and pull him close. "That was..." Paul shakes his head. "I think that's the best wake up I've ever gotten in my life." I smile at him, push his damp hair off his forehead. "It'll be even better next time." "I don't see how it could be." He kisses me again. He has morning breath, but I don't care. I probably do, too. "You wanna go hang out at the quarry?" I ask, tracing swirls across his chest with my fingers. Paul laughs. "I think you're part fish." "I just wanna see you all wet and half naked." "I'm all naked right now." I slide my leg over his and kiss him. We kiss lazy, sloppy kisses for a long time, until Paul rubs my arm and says, "I should get home." "No. Stay." He runs his fingers through my hair. "I really should go. Come over tonight for dinner. My mom'll be thrilled to see you again." I nod. "OK," I whisper. "OK," Paul says. He kisses the tip of my nose, then sits up. I watch him as he gets dressed, and he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, knowing that I'm watching him. He kisses me again before he leaves, and once he's gone I stretch out in my bed and pull the covers over my head and laugh softly. I run my hands over my body, grin as my fingers stroke my tender asshole. I massage my thigh muscles, run my fingers up my stomach, pass them over my nipples. It's warm beneath my covers and the heat and the slowly fading high from what Paul and I have done lulls me to sleep. It's after one o'clock when I wake up again. I get up and shower and wander into the kitchen to make something to eat. My father's in the living room reading his newspaper. "Morning," I say to him. He doesn't respond. I doubt he even heard me. I go into the family room and settle onto the couch with a big bowl of cereal. I watch TV-nothing really exciting, just a rerun of "Monster Garage" that I've already seen. I finish my cereal and stretch out on the couch and after a while I become aware that my father's standing behind me. I turn and look up at him. He's gazing at the TV, but he doesn't seem to be really watching it. Or maybe it's just that he doesn't know what's going on. "They're making it into a lawnmower," I say. He nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He sighs. "Adam," he says softly. "I..." He clears his throat and rubs his face in his hands. He comes around the side of the couch and sits on the edge of his recliner. He sits with his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low. He sighs again, then looks up at me. I feel really weird when I realize that he's close to tears. I sit up, too, pull my legs beneath me. "What's wrong?" I ask. "Is it Mom? Is she OK?" He takes a deep breath and looks away from me. "I haven't been..." he whispers. "Shit," he says. The phone rings, but I don't move to answer it. "What is it?" I ask him. He doesn't say anything to me, just answers the phone. After a moment he hands it to me. "It's someone named Laura," he says, holding the cordless phone out to me. I take it from him and watch as he leaves the family room. After a moment I say, "Hello?" "Adam? Hey, it's Laura. What's going on?" "I have no idea," I say. I turn and watch the hallway but I can't see where my father went. She laughs. "What?" "Nothing. Um, yeah, hi. What's up?" "I just..." she sighs. "I kind of wanted to talk to you. About last night." I have to think for a moment. It seems like a month since I kissed her, not just a day. "Oh," I say. "That's OK. You don't have to explain." "I just want you to know that it's not about you," she says. "That sounds so clichˇ. I just...you know Jake and I have been fighting, and I thought that maybe...I mean, you're really cute, and maybe if Jake and I weren't together things could happen, but..." I didn't even know she and Jake were a couple. "It's OK," I tell her. "I'm kind of seeing someone, too. It's just bad timing." Laura sighs. She seems relieved. "Yeah," she says. "So we're still friends?" "Definitely," I say. "Cool. I'm having some people over tonight, and I want you to come. I mean, if it won't be weird." "It won't be weird," I tell her. "We just kissed, Laura. It happens." "Yeah, I know. God, I'm so glad you're not pissed at me." I laugh. "Definitely not pissed." "OK. Um, come over around eight? Do you know where I live?" "Yeah," I say. "I'll be there." After I hang up and get up and walk through the house, looking for my dad. He's in his study reading his newspaper again. "Hey," I say, knocking on his door. "What did you want to talk to me about?" He doesn't look at me, just keeps his eyes on his paper. "Dad?" "Hmm?" he finally looks over at me. "What do you want, Adam?" he asks, annoyed. "I, uh..." I shrug. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm going for a run, OK?" He doesn't say anything, just looks back at the business section. "Yeah," I say, turning back to the hallway. "Great talk, Dad. A real bonding moment." I run maybe four miles. It's too muggy to do any more, and once I get back home I'm drenched in sweat and I lay on the kitchen floor to cool off and catch my breath. My father is either gone or in his room, and I don't bother knocking to find out. I stretch for a while, and take a shower after I finally stop sweating. When I get to Paul's he's up in his room. It looks like he's ironing a sheet of paper with a small iron. "A little OCD?" I ask. Paul looks up from his desk and when he sees me he smiles. He fucking beams. "Hey," he says. His smile is contagious. I smile back at him and lock his door behind me and hurry over to his desk. "Hey," I say. I lean down to kiss him, curl my fingers through his hair. "Missed you," I whisper. Paul's still got the iron in one hand and he holds it away from us as he pulls me into his lap. "I missed you, too," he says. I curl up against him and look at what he's working on. It's exploding fireworks in blue and green, so vibrant and realistic that it surprises me. It looks like a photograph, even though I can tell it's not. "It's encaustic," he says to my unasked question. "Melted wax." "You did that with wax?" He shrugs. "I'm still learning." That's typical Paul-I'm amazed at how good he is and he's talking about how he's not. He sets the iron down and leans to unplug it. He strokes my hair, kisses the back of my neck. "You're early." "It was either that or sit in my house for another few hours. Do you mind?" I can feel him shake his head as he kisses my neck. "Not at all. I love you, you know." I smile and lean back against him. "I know. I love you, too." It's easier to say each time. Each time I say it I feel freer. I sigh and turn and press my face against his neck. "I have to tell you something." "Mmm?" Paul's stroking the hair at the nape of my neck. He runs his fingers down my spine and I shiver. "Last night, before I called you, I made out with Laura Brown," I whisper. Paul's silent for a moment. "OK," he says. "I'm sorry." "You don't have to be. We agreed that it was OK for you to date girls, and it is." I look up at him. "But I don't want to date girls. All that stuff before, that was just me being afraid. I want it to be just you and me." And he's smiling again. I don't know if I've ever seen him so happy. I can feel it pouring out of him, into me, seeping in through my skin. I love how it feels to make him happy. "OK," Paul says. "So it's just you and me." "With Laura I was just...it was stupid. Even she knew it was stupid. It didn't go very far. I was thinking about you, and turns out she was thinking about her boyfriend, and we both ended it. I want you to know that there's nothing between us." Paul nods. "All right." "We're friends, Laura and I, but that's all. We talked about it. I just want you to know that, because I love you and you're the only person I want to be with." Paul kisses me gently. "Got it," he says. I laugh as he scoops me up and carries me to his bed. He drops me onto the mattress and climbs in next to me and kisses me again. I slide my arms around his neck and kiss him back, suck on his tongue and his lower lip, breathe in the scent of him. Our bodies fit so perfectly together, arms wrapped around bodies and legs intertwined. We press our foreheads together and I gaze into Paul's liquid brown eyes, so close to him that I can't see anything else. "I have to tell you something, too," Paul whispers. I grin. "You made out with Kara Stanton?" He wrinkles his nose. "No. God. Eww." I laugh and slide my fingers beneath the hem of his t-shirt. "Not your type?" "Definitely not my type. Besides, she and Mark are seeing each other now." "Really?" I didn't see that one coming. "Yeah. I, uh...my mom knows." "Your mom knows that Mark and Kara are dating? Big deal." He sighs and presses his forehead harder against mine. "She knows about us, Adam." I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I suddenly can't catch my breath. "Adam?" "Why the fuck did you tell her?" He touches the small of my back. "I didn't. But she's not stupid. It's obvious, the way I feel about you, and she figured the rest out herself." There's a poster on the back of Paul's door, this gigantic tree growing out of the ruins of a city, and I stare at it and try to catch my breath. I stare at it like I'm afraid I'll disappear if I lose eye contact. "Adam," Paul whispers. He's rubbing my back gently, and it occurs to me that I don't want to slap his hand away. I would have wanted to before, would have been annoyed at him touching me. Instead it calms me, and I feel my breathing slow. "Come on, Adam," he says. "It's not the end of the world. She knows who we are, that's all. And she still loves us." I feel tears sting my eyes, and I close them to trap the tears in. "Come here," Paul says, pulling me back onto the bed. I lay down on my side and he presses his body up against me from behind, wraps his arm around my stomach and kisses the back of my neck. "She's happy for us," Paul says. His breath is hot against my skin. "She said she'd suspected I was gay for a long time, she just never wanted to say anything in case she was wrong. In case I was just, you know, artistic." I can't help but laugh at that. I'd always known he was gay, too, even when I wasn't so sure about myself. I turn in his arms and scoot down so we're forehead to forehead again. "She won't tell my dad?" Paul shakes his head. "Because he'd..." I sigh and put my arm over him, slide my hand up beneath his t-shirt and feel the warm, smooth skin of his back. "It would be bad." "He'll never know," Paul says. He kisses me and the kiss reassures me, like it's a promise. We lay there together, barely talking, just holding each other and kissing and stroking each other's skin. Eventually, Delphine calls us down to dinner. Nobody mentions our relationship. It's just a typical dinner at Paul's, with too much good food and Julie London, Delphine's favorite, playing softly in the background. We eat: a pork roast sweetened with orange juice, a gigantic salad with all kinds of lettuce that I can't identify, sweet corn, asparagus. Caroline's got an asparagus spear in her hand, and she's waving it around as she gestures, explaining to us how the music of the piano mirrors the human soul. It's over my head, but I listen anyway, and smile as I watch her talking and jabbing the air with the asparagus spear as she makes her point. I sneak looks at Paul all through dinner, until I realize that I don't have to sneak them anymore. I smile at him and he smiles back, reaches to squeeze my hand under the table. When it's time for me to go, he walks me out onto the dark front porch. "You should stay tonight," he says, sliding his arms around my waist. My arms fit perfectly around his neck as we kiss. "I'll have lots of nights to stay over," I say, my lips brushing against his. "I kind of promised that I'd go to this thing at Laura's." "OK," he says. "But no making out with her tonight." I laugh. "I promise." We kiss again, and I never want to let him go but eventually I do. I walk backwards down the porch steps, gazing at him, and manage not to trip. We look at each other for a while. I don't want to leave and he doesn't want to go inside. Finally I get on my bike and when I'm halfway down the block I look back, and I think I can see him in the shadows of the porch watching me ride away. Laura's house is on the other side of town, and it's twenty past eight by the time I get there. I know everyone there. They're mostly on the swim team, but not all of them. The one's that aren't I got to know pretty well in the weeks Paul and I were avoiding each other. Fine, in the weeks I was avoiding Paul. "Somebody's late," Laura says as I walk in. The TV's on, but nobody seems to be really watching it. It's just videos anyway. "I told you I'd be here," I say to her. I notice that she and Jake are sitting close together on the couch. I smile at her to show that there are no hard feelings. "Hey, little bro," says Chuck Anderson, a senior freestyle sprinter. He tosses me a can of pop. "Catch." I do, then toss it back to him. "I don't drink pop," I say. Chuck laughs, and looks at the people around him to see if they heard me. "You Mormon or something?" he asks. I laugh and shake my head. "No. I just don't need all those empty calories." "Right," says Jake. "Because you're sooo fat." I shrug. "If you paid more attention to what you put in your body, I might not lap you as many times as I do during a 1650." Everybody laughs. Laura looks surprised and delighted. "I think that little faggot just called me out," Jake says. "You just call me out, little bro?" He's not pissed. He actually looks kind of pleased. I shrug and smile at him. "I'm not saying anything that's not true." That makes people laugh again, amused at the sophomore with the smart mouth. "The kid has a point, Jake," Chuck says, slapping me on the back. "You lapped him, what? Twice at yesterday's practice?" "Three times," I say. "Would have been four, but I was taking it easy. Sad, really, when you consider the fact that I'm, what? A foot shorter than you?" It's an exaggeration, since Jake's maybe only six feet tall, but I've found that it's always easier on me to bring up my height first before anyone else has the chance to. "Listen to the smart ass little cocksucker," Jake says, smiling at me. I can tell that by insulting him I've risen in his estimation of me. The upperclassmen have a healthy respect for verbal abuse, especially among friends. "Speaking of which," Chuck says, handing me a bottled water, "I have a new one." We all groan. Chuck thinks he's a comedian and he's always telling jokes, but he's not very good at it. He always puts too much emphasis on the punch line instead of just letting people get it on their own. "How do faggots get rid of their condoms?" Chuck asks. He doesn't wait a long enough beat before saying, "By farting. Get it? Faggots? Farting out their condoms? Because they butt fuck? Get it?" He's looking at me, waiting for me to get the joke. "Yeah, Chuck," I say. "I get it." It hurts, but I smile and I force myself to laugh.