Disclaimer/ author's note: If you shouldn't be reading this, I'm sure you already know that. If you're not sure whether or not you should be reading this -- then you probably should get clear on that. Don't access this if you can't "legally" where you are, if you're not old enough, etc. LemonLimeChaser@yahoo.com (that's where I be at) Also, don't reproduce without my permission. This chapter took FOR-EVER for me, so I hope you guys are pleased / satisfied by the end.

whatever.

by ben.

Chapter Eight.

"Doors and Windows"

Morning meant classes, meant sleeping through the lectures of older men and women whose life paths had deviated from its original meaning, it's essential goal and had been reduced to teaching. I supposed it was better to not have a path, without a direction, it was impossible to get lost so I slept while they talked and dreamt of having Iggy to myself in a room. Climbing on top of him and kissing his nervous mouth, promising tenderness while I slid into him, quieting his groans with more kisses, his eyes shut tight and forehead sweat. Once inside, I would pause a moment and he would say:

"And how did Pope use this device Mr. Raleigh?"

No, that's not he would say, he would say:

"Mr. Raleigh, please wake up and answer the question."

My eyes opened lazily and Iggy's face faded away to reveal his real face staring at me, slightly embarrassed and waiting for me to do something. In fact, everyone was looking at me.

"I got nothin'." I said, feigning a very east coast accent, utterly `New York.'

The class slipped into mild guffaws and the teacher shot me a stern look before turning her attention back to the lesson. When class ended, I managed to slip out before she could further reprimand me and decided to stop by my next class to see what lecture was about before I decided whether or not to stay. Walking down the hall, I felt a hand tug at my shirt collar and when I turned around I was pleasantly enough surprised to find Miles staring at me with his cap low over his face.

"Come take a quick ride with me."

I raised an eyebrow. It wasn't that I didn't trust him (though I hadn't quite forgiven his wretched drugs) but it did seem a bit strange that he would ask me to take a ride, instead of one of the members of his exclusive little boy's club.

"Why?" I asked.

"If you don't, I'll take you into the bathroom, choke you until you are unconscious, call a friend and haul you out to my car. Then I'll wake you up with smelling salts and punch you in the face for making me expend so much energy and waste so much time." He explained quite matter-of-factly, without coming off as any more or less intimidating as usual which was of course, intimidating enough as it was.

"Where's your car?"

We went out the parking lot and Miles opened the door to his 2006 Lexus RX, a sleek grey gas/electric hybrid sitting amongst dozens of equally expensive cars belonging to equally affluent students. I climbed into the passenger seat and Miles into the driver's, starting the car and quickly setting up his rectangular, white mp3 player for car usage before reversing out of the parking lot and speeding down the road.

A fairly skilled driver, Miles navigated the roads surrounding the school with such ease and grace that I allowed myself to relax enough to forget that I was breaking the rules by leaving school ground. Instead I closed my eyes and slid into the silence between us, barely filled by the sounds of a sad violin piece. I was considering asking about it when Miles broke the silence.

"This year's crop of students sucks, to be quite honest, in more than a figurative way. There are more confirmed queer boys in this year's first-years than any other. It's making it very difficult for my group to choose members. Of course when coupled with the fact that most of the first-years have as much personality as bread crusts, this makes selection damn near impossible." He said, flipping on his indicator and turning the corner with one hand then, flipping it off. "So we decided it's about high time we let in a member who identifies as gay. Before you ask, yes, there are some members of the `Tops' who sexually couldn't be further from what that implies, but they aren't openly gay. Dean White suggested you might be willing to be one of our new initiates."

"What? No." I said incredulously. "You guys were assholes to me and your boss is a dick."

"Alexander is...he's not the kind of guy who makes good, let's say, social decisions under pressure. It's his first term as president. It'll get better, I promise and besides, if you join -- you'll already know a third year member." He turned to flash me a quick smile I couldn't decipher as genuine or not.

"Which of the members are gay?" I asked, slightly uncomfortable with the `ring' of the word that I hadn't ever used to describe myself.

"Gay is an antiquated term and you should try to stop thinking that way. Some members like to fuck other boys and some don't. It would be a bad idea for me to tell you who sleeps with whom though, since gossip isn't my business."

"But drug dealing is?" I retorted. "I at least know that Alexander fucks guys. We have a mutual friend."

He nodded without saying anything and we were quiet again for a while, after a few minutes I realized the violin music was on repeat. I was about to question it again when he decided to speak. I cut him off but found my thoughts had shifted in another direction.  

"What's your story? Who do you fuck?" I asked as he made another one-handed turn.

He paused then looked over at me.

"I don't have sex. I think it's a bad habit with bad consequences. People fuck here like it's their whole life, unsafely I might add, then don't even consider it ever again. How many times have you slept with the same person more than once since you've been here?" He quickly scanned my guilty features and found his answers. "I haven't had sex since I've been here. If I get horny..."

I started to salivate.

"...I do some weight training or this thing that my personal trainer designed called full-contact yoga. It's going to revolutionize the industry."

Disappointment didn't begin to cut it.

"You jerk off though." It was inconceivable that he didn't, if he said he didn't then he was lying which was why I didn't phrase it as a question, all I needed was his simple acquiescence.

He shook his head `no' and if I cared a bit more, my jaw would have dropped. I didn't pursue it though, because there was a more important underlying concern.

"You didn't mention being straight. You said you don't sleep with guys when I propositioned you and now you say you don't sleep with anyone, so if you were to sleep with someone, would it be a guy?"

"You're not my type." Miles responded as he pulled up to a stoplight, finally changed the song on his mp3 player and then he turned to me.

I grinned and figured that maybe Miles wouldn't be too tough a nut to crack.

"I'll think about it." I finally answered as Miles pulled into the parking lot of a building I found vaguely familiar, then I recognized it.

It was the school. The son of a bitch had been driving in a circle.

+

After classes I had to go work in the administrator's computer lab, punishment that the Dean refused to reconsider even after fucking my ass and wrapping his arms around me, for some reason it didn't bother me. I showed up and found Lucien typing away at one of the computers and wearing glasses, which was semi-surprising.

"Hey." I managed, taking a seat at a computer beside him. I wondered if I was still mad about turning him down, I needed to learn those commands.

"Hi!" Lucien chimed, his lips spread into a good natured smile. I shivered, uncertain still even while witnessing it, whether or not Lucien could smile.

I started wondering if the Dean's sperm could cure one of his personality flaws. If so, was that why I was still reporting to my assigned punishment. He scooted his chair over, closer to mine and I flinched when he put a hand in my lap.

"Hi..." He repeated, massaging my rapidly hardening cock and ignoring the look of utter shock that was dancing across my feature. I thought we had been through this.

"Are you serious?" I asked flatly, sliding my chair back enough to send him a message.

Sitting there for a second with his hand in the air where my jeans and cock underneath used to be, his smooth features slid into a snarl.

"Are you serious!? Are you still hard for St. Paul? Are you that stupid? His fiancée is here for god sakes! They're going to get married, you realize that don't you?" Lucien's voice got low as he sunk back into his chair. "...and you still turn me down, what the fuck..."

I shook my head in disgust. His desperation was getting on my nerves. As I was leaving, he stopped me.

"St. Paul is leaving. He filled the papers with his parents in conjunction with his whore's parents. He's spending the next three years abroad apparently. Isn't love beautiful?"

I left without a second glance.

"About a Girl"

"Are you leaving?"  

My voice was unsteady, eyes narrowed and spirit utterly pissed on. I hated the fact that this stupid fuck of a redhead, who couldn't even have sense enough to pick a decent homosexual crush to cheat on his iron-clad bitch of a fiancée with, had somehow made me give a shit. I was seething, trying to moderate my tone and trying not to let down my guard when he winced. I just wanted to hold him but I couldn't, not if he would disappear as soon as I put my arms around him. I curled my fists tight enough for them to change color had I been looking.

I hated myself for caring that he looked into his lap and readjusted his glasses. I hated that I was somehow attached to this pathetic, pathetic pawn of a man. I hated him as much as I hated myself as he adjusted his glasses and looked at me with a looked steeled with practiced resolution.

"Piper --"

"FUCK Piper." I almost yelled, just barely managing to bring my voice down towards the end. "What do you want? Do you want anything...? What the fuck!? Who are you?"

I doubted the power of delusion. He lashed back.

"What...the...fuck DO you know about caring about someone else? You fuck around this school, you snort coke and spout foolishness but you couldn't care less about anyone. So tell me about what I should, huh?" He got up, face tight and muscles taut. I became painfully aware of the balled fists at my side and I could already see the scene playing out in my head. "Tell me WHAT I SHOULD DO!"

He pushed me and I punched him. There was no slow motion, no pause or hesitation, none of things you see in movies, just the sound of my fist across his envied flesh and him staggering backward. He stood there for a moment while recovering from the blow, dazed and the side of his bottom lip bleeding slightly. I watched a drop trickle down his chin.

"I don't know what you should do. What I think doesn't matter." I thought about the Dean, telling me not to give up on him. It was out of my hands.

Iago walked over to me wearing a blank expression that I couldn't turn into a reaction. What he was going to do was anyone's guess, whatever it was, I deserved I realized as he balled his own fists. I closed my eyes and weathered the blow, when it came. It surprised me at the point where I felt the world was fresh out of surprises.

His lips on mine were soft, the softest I'd ever felt, like you'd always expect your first kiss to be. I wanted to kiss them back but I couldn't believe that it was real, if I opened my eyes, he would fade away, wouldn't he? After brushing his lips against mine, he withdrew slowly and I allowed my eyes to flutter open slowly.

"I think that I...I liked Lucien, I thought there was something he had that I needed. I didn't...he wasn't really...I mean. The night at the pool party, I was jealous of you because you had him. I..." He stopped and came closer again.

This time his lips met mine and I ventured out with my tongue just a bit. The shiver that wracked my body when his tongue touched mine and his arms tentatively crept around my shoulders, was unlike anything within the realm of past sensations.

"I was jealous, but not of you." He whispered between us, a secret that could have changed everything, anger crept inside my fevered, irrational mind. "Of him."

I kissed him harder, wrapping my arms around his waist and drawing him in closer to me with a moan from his thin, muscular frame. Hearing the sound slipping from his lips only made me ache. He kissed me back but less assuredly, how could he still be unsure? Then I tasted the blood on his lips, the blood I had drawn with my fists and recoiled, confused but excited, disgusted by myself and by him, he was getting married, wasn't he?

Stepping back, I tried to catch my breath as the room swirled slowly around me, finally the slow motion that I had been waiting for, just in time.

"I wanted to know what it was like." He said apologetically, appealing to my compassion as he stepped back and sat gently down on his bed, fingering the cut on his lip.

"What?" I asked, while both my mind and tongue were too stupid to understand how it could only be...

"I wanted to know what it was like to do something I needed to do, for myself." He kindly or maybe cruelly left out the other part, the part about expectation and what you needed to do, for everyone else.

We slept in the same bed that night, my arms around him while I forced myself not to tell him to forget expectation and live for himself. I skipped the advice because deep down, I wasn't sure that I'd be any different if I was in his shoes. Instead I let tears fall, just two or three as I fell asleep or he fell asleep, thinking back, I can't remember which.

"The verb: to leave."

I didn't kill Piper when she came, all smiles with the taxi to pick Iggy up a few days afterward. I didn't look at him as he loaded his stuff into the trunk and barely responded when he said goodbye. Instead, as Piper was about to get into the taxi and ride off into the sunset with my prince, I tapped her on the shoulder and was about to whisper something in her ear. A threat maybe which never materialized, instead I stepped away from the car and watched it drive off.

I went back inside the building after the taxi disappeared into the distance. I figured as I sauntered back into the school that it was high time to see a man about a half gram.

Before the emails questioning whether I'm ending it here, I'm not.

Comments, questions, concerns and filthy-mouth'd flames are welcomed.