JUSTIN'S POV

Fuck fuck fuck fuck…

Can’t explain it, don’t know what it is, why it is, just know I feel it inside me, deep inside me, fucking hard inside me, feels like nothing I’ve ever felt and I’m high, euphoric, exhilarated, horny, wired…

We showed those fucking straight pussies who’s the boss of Liberty Avenue. Kicked their ass and made them run away. Fuckers. Straight fuckers. Won’t be showing their goddamn homophobic faces on Liberty again.

Assholes.

Watched them drive away, felt Cody’s arm around my shoulders, the cheers of the posse, then everyone around us, loving us, loving what we did and feeling strong and cohesive and like all of us belong together and need to look out for each other and like I made a difference.

I felt like I did when I outed Chris on Liberty Avenue. I felt like I did before Chris fucking stole my confidence and put fear in its place. I felt powerful.

Right.

Vindicated.

Just… fucking good.

They all wanted to go to Woody’s, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t think of sitting around, talking about it. Want to share this. Share this… this feeling inside that I can’t fucking explain. Just know my dick is hard and I feel fucking alive and not scared. Not scared at all.

I said goodbye and just took off, walking fast, then running, running, running… feet smacking on the pavement, night air washing over my shaven head in a way that feels so foreign but almost familiar. Feels like Brian blowing across my skin.

And yeah, my ankle hurts, my back hurts and I feel rubbed raw on my fingertips where I yanked on that guy’s pants. My throat hurts from screaming, my feet hurt from walking, and I’ve never felt fucking better in my life.

Covered in sweat and it runs down my back, down my neck, and I keep running.

Get to the loft and take the steps two at time, slide open the door, and there’s Brian. Shirt open, showing off his naked chest, beautiful, so fucking beautiful and hot and he’s mine to fuck, to fuck me, to kiss and lick and bite… my heart catches in my throat and I kick off my shoes…

Tell him what I did, but he’s not hearing, I don’t hear my voice either, just trail my eyes down his hard smooth chest, smell the pot in the air and feel all buzzy and wired and so fucking turned on and all I want is cock in my ass *rightfuckingnow*.

Rub my palm across my crotch, my hard cock and it feels good… just stare at his dick and watch him watch me, licking lips and breathing in the smoke… he takes another hit and I reach out and touch him, run my fingers across his jeans… he laughs a little and I squeeze his cock in my fingers through the denim, then grab the waistband of his jeans with one hand, pull down his fly with the other…

Yank his pants off and push him down into his desk chair, bare ass smacking against the leather… pull the joint from his fingers and take a hit, drawing the smoke into my lungs and holding it there, holding it there, holding it there… let it slip through my nostrils and I tear off my shirt, tossing it to the ground, and twist open the button of my pants.

Brian’s shirt slides off his shoulders, and fuck, he’s so goddamn hot, so amazing, fucking built and I touch him, skim my fingertips across the ridges of muscle in his chest.

He sucks back on the joint and holds it up for me and I take another hit, the paper wet from his lips and making it stick to mine…

Still holding my belt, and I wrap it around Brian’s neck, twisting him around in the chair, he snickers a little, leans back and lets me pull the belt tight around his throat and I yank him towards me, towards my stomach, my crotch, my dick sticking up through my open pants.

He pulls at the waistband of my fatigues, pushing them down over my hips… I let go of the belt and it slips from his neck and falls to the floor with a clunk, but I hardly hear it, just kick off my pants and stare at Brian, watch his eyes, see him looking at me all horny and fucking turned on, and I suck in breath after breath and know he wants me, wants my tight little ass, wants to fuck me, I know I have him and it makes me feel powerful and like I can control this, can control everything, my life…

Climb up on to his lap, my ass slapping down against his thighs, and kiss him… oh, fucking kiss him, lips and tongue and he tastes so good… he pulls me closer to him, rubs our dicks together and it’s fucking hot and I want him, no, I fucking *need* him inside me now…

Grab a condom and tear off the top, he watches me as I roll it on his dick quickly, pulls me closer, pushes me across his thighs, our skin sticking together and pulling and it stings but feels so fucking hot, burning and Christ! He lifts me up and I pull open my ass with one hand… he holds his dick steady and presses it against my open hole… oh GOD, I slide down on him, no lube, no nothing, just that hard rub of latex inside me. That hurt that hurts so fucking good, that pull and pressure and holy fuck, I could cum right here, cum all over his chest and lick it off him, clean it off his hard, sweaty skin…

But I don’t cum, I hold on, and he kisses me and puts his hands on the side of my face, his palms all warm and sweaty and sticky against me. Sweat pricks up on my scalp and he bucks under me, slapping my ass hard with his open palm, pushing me closer…

My cock bounces against his stomach, and we rock together… fucking like this is hard work, hard fucking work, pulling myself up to ride his cock, every muscle straining in my arms, my stomach, my legs, my back… trying to hold on and not let go… trying to get more inside and get that friction, that rub inside…

But screw the aches and pains and spasming muscles. We’re fucking like men, hard and raw and sweaty and it feels so… so… so… good…

He lifts me up and I slam back down on his cock, hard, really hard and he goes deep inside my ass, fucking deep and I kiss him and push his face into my neck, his teeth biting at my skin, open palm slapping at my back and my ass, fingers in my crack and I bounce on his cock, faster and faster till I think I might cum but he holds me back, pushes me down and kisses me again, moaning loudly into my mouth…

The chair slides across the floor and my feet don’t even touch the ground, I just hold onto his back, palms stuck against his damp skin, feel so fucking wired and I just want to get off, fucking get off, release it, everything… Christ, fuck his dick, fuck him hard, take what I want, moving his cock inside me, making it rub against me inside, hard, harder, more, fuck, everywhere, hands on face and kissing brutally, teeth and tongues and it’s fucking amazing… don’t even touch my dick, know it’s leaking against his chest, focus on that deep burn inside, focus on the hard pressure, focus on his twitching dick and he presses my forehead against his, inhaling each other’s exhales and I can’t even see anymore, can’t even focus anymore, go by instinct and fuck his cock, ride him, pulling on the back of the chair, holding on and holding on and holy fuck!

I grab my cock and stroke myself fast, faster, wanna get off right now, right fucking now, rock back and forth on his cock, panting moaning crying and it’s too much too much too fucking much…

He smacks my bare ass hard, spanks me once, spanks me again, sting of skin on skin and he pushes me onto his cock, lifts me up and back down again and bites my neck, my fingers scrabble for the back of his neck, pull his hair in my grip and he spanks me again and that’s fucking it…fucking it, fucking it, fuckfuckfuck, FUCK!

Cum hard, squeezing my cock, pushing my dick against his stomach, rubbing against him, my cum spurts up against his skin and slides back down over my hand, my dick, down into his pubes… pant for breath, try to suck it in, but I feel shaky and keep rocking with his dick inside me, and it feels too much, feel too fucking intense and makes my eyes water, but I want too much, want intensity, want this, want him… he holds me down on his cock and jerks into me, pressing open my hole, pubes rubbing hard on my skin, and then he groans, loud, deep, I feel that twitch inside me, his balls quiver against my crack, all hot and sweaty and oh fuck…

He puts his palms on either side of my face and pulls my mouth to his, I breathe hard through my nose, kissing him, licking him, warm rush of adrenalin still soaring through me, the stink of our fuck heavy in the air…

“Do it again, fuck me again,” I pant, tearing away from his lips. My dick still trembles in my fingers and I’m still hard, still burning, still vibrating. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough …

Slide off his lap, his dick slipping out of me and I get to my knees in front of him, push open his legs and pull the condom off his dick roughly, grabbing the tip and letting it suck back off him, letting his cum spray out onto my face as it snaps off, dripping down his cock, over my fingers, around my wrist, mixing up with my own. I look up at him, licking it off my hand, watching as he smiles at me…

Put my face in his crotch and go down on him in one gulp, smelling my ass on his pubes, eating his cum, feeling his cock get fully hard again in my mouth, down my throat. Want to taste that, know that, feel that… testosterone and ass fucking hot sex…

He moans my name and scrabbles for grip on my scalp, feel his palm smack against the top of my head and his fingertips press down hard into my too short hair. Skin on near skin on my head and it’s fucking hot, so hot, Jesus Christ, I pull him deeper into my throat, almost choking on his cock, but never, ever, I can take it, take him, and I’m surrounded by the taste and smell of sex, the only sex I ever want, ever really know…

And then even that’s not enough, my cock begging for more and worse, my hole twitching and needing him inside me… pull my mouth off his cock, panting for breath, forgetting to breathe…

Kneel at his feet, between his legs, his wet cock hovering in my face. Our eyes meet and I rub his slit across my cheeks, covering my skin with his pre-cum, with his smell…

Grab his hand from behind my head and pull him down, yank hard on him to bring him to the floor. He slides off the chair, pushing it back, kneels in front of me. Kiss him hard on the mouth, his cum still covering my tongue, teeth knocking together and bruising lips… fingers up in his hair, pulling hard, pushing harder, needing more…

My heart beats erratically in my chest and I feel it in my throat, my temples, try to get inside him, get in his mouth… I put my hand on his chin and on the back of his head and force my tongue so deep into his throat, so far into his mouth, licking at his back teeth, my lips hard on his, spit sliding around on our mouths…

He pushes me back suddenly and I let myself fall onto the ground, hard, onto my back, the hardwood floor slapping up against my skin, reminding me of sliding over the trunk of that car tonight and getting that flush of adrenalin through my veins, like white heat and Ecstasy.

Wrap my legs around his thighs, and he leans over me, mashing his mouth against my face, pushing me into the ground, hands covering mine, holding my palms open, wide and flat.

His bare cock rubs against my belly, then in my pubes… I push up against him, my dick dancing between his legs, not touching, fucking Christ, I need touching *now* and I buck up against him, lifting my hips, bending in half and rubbing my cock up against his balls, anything, needing to touch…

He slides his hands down to my wrists, squeezing hard, so hard I feel my pulse beating under my skin, and I like it and grin at him, biting on my bottom lip, watching him and he gets that look, that fucking look that I’ve seen, that look that lets me know I’m in for the fucking of my life.

In a split second I’m flipped over, face to the hardwood, my cheek planted on the floor, all warm from my back. I get to my knees, but he pushes my head down to the ground again, my ass sticking up in the air, wide open and desperate for him.

“Fuck me, Brian, fuck me, fuck me,” I chant over and over, wanting it, wanting to be fucked like a man, by a man, a cock in my hole, a dick up my ass, wanting dick, needing cock, all the things that make me a queer, that make me different from most everyone else, that make people hate me and want to hurt me. I want him to fuck me and make me proud of those things, make me need him, make me remember why it’s important to fight, why I need to be strong, and get my power from him, from his cum, from my cock.

And then he slams into me, one whole whoosh inside me and it takes my breath away and everything goes kinda black for a second, stars shooting behind my eyes and I gasp in air.

“You want this?” he leans over me, growling into my ear. He punctuates his question with another hard slam inside me.

I nod against the hardwood, the shiny surface sticking to my skin. I start to push myself up, but his hand clamps down around my neck, forcing me back down.

“You wanna take it like a man?” he asks again, hot against my face. He grips my hip with his other hand, nails biting into my skin.

“Yes… I can take it,” my voice is harsh and scrapes out of my throat.

His fingers slide around my neck and cut off my air a little. “You want it hard? You want it fast?”

Christ! “Yes,” I whisper out, curling my fingers up into fists and pressing them to the floor.

And then it starts. Hard, fast, slam fucks into me. Over and over and over till I’m nearly incoherent, nearly lost, till there’s no discernable in and out, just constant mind blowing pounds into my ass. I wanna cry out in pleasure, but I have no voice, nothing but these sharp gasps leave my throat when I remember to breathe.

I reach behind me and grab onto his thigh, grab him fucking hard and scratch my nails down his leg, pulling him closer, trying to push him entirely inside me, our bodies so connected so in synch so perfectly matched. He slides out further than before and slams into me again, and I push back into him, meet every thrust into my ass, feel numb everywhere except inside and inside I’m burning, on fire, screaming heat and pleasure all mixing together… more, more, more, and his fingers are biting into my throat and making it hard to breathe and fucking turning me on and when I cum I hardly notice, just feel intensity and overwhelming and then it’s over, all over and Brian slumps over my back, hot and heavy and bites my shoulder… I splay out on the hardwood, my cock pressing into the ground and I feel like I’m floating outside my body… feel lightheaded and euphoric and completely… utterly… fucked.

He rolls off me, his cock leaving a space inside me as big as a fucking canyon. I turn over onto my back, my head resting on his outstretched arm, my back sticking to my cum on the floor.

“Fuck,” he groans, and rolls the condom off his cock slowly.

I start to climb to my feet, but he pulls me back down, his fingers scratching lightly at my shaven head.

“C’mere,” he says quietly, and settles me on his chest, between his legs. He wraps his arms around me, and kisses me on the head. I feel warm breath across my scalp and it feels weird. Ticklish but not really.

“You okay?” he asks, running his fingers down my back and smoothing over my ass. He always does this after rough sex. Pulls me back to him. Settles me. Reminds me that it’s just playing, just sex.

But I don’t really need settling or calming right now. I still feel empowered and strong and I don’t really need his arms around me, holding little Justin and letting me know that everything's okay.

I’m a fucking *man* and I can take it like a man.

I kiss him hard on the lips, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth and between my teeth. I bite, just a bit, and I feel him jerk beneath me.

Tear my lips from his and lean over him. “Got any more pot?” I grin and push myself up, walking towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, usual place,” I hear him mumble from the floor, sighing deeply.

I take a piss and flush the toilet and catch my reflection in the mirror.

Stop.

Smile. Didn’t recognize myself for a second there. Don’t look the same. Not at all.

I’m not pretty anymore. Not like before. Not like I was, with all that blond hair, hanging in my face, hiding me all the time.

Nope.

I’m not pretty at all anymore. I wanna be ugly. Wanna be hard and tough and powerful. I let the smile slip from my face and lean in closer to my reflection. See the scar on my temple, just a tiny faded mark. Wish it was bigger. Wish it stood out. Wish it was written and branded on my head so I could show it off and scream at Hobbes and tell him, you fucker! Look what you did to me, but look at me now! I’m alive and ready to kick your fucking ass!

My dick twitches and I touch myself, my skin still sensitive, but it feels good. Grab my cock harder and stare at my face and stroke my dick over and over, breathing loudly, hard. Feels fucking good.

Don’t recognize that face, that person in the mirror. See marks around my neck from Brian’s fingers. See a dark mark on my chest from the guy’s hand, pushing me back tonight. See brands and scratches and bruises from fucking and fighting and it’s all mixed up together.

All mixed up together.

I slowly stop stroking my dick. Don’t think I could cum again. My cock is sensitive and it’s almost painful, but I like the way it feels.

Go back into the living room and Brian’s pulling on his jeans, a new joint sticking between his lips.

“Gonna come to Babylon?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nah, Cody’s given me some books to read. I’m gonna head,” I pick up my pants from the floor and pull them on. Dancing and drinking at Babylon just feels inferior to tonight. Feels decadent and useless.

Brian takes a couple steps closer to me and grabs my arm. He passes me the joint.

“Why don’t you stay and we’ll order some food or something,” he says, watching as I take a long drag on the paper.

I shrug. “Sure, okay,” I drop my shirt to the ground.

Funny how things have changed. Suddenly all changed.

I try not to focus on the fact that I’ve just given up a night at Babylon to eat on the fucking floor with Justin.

But things have changed. Things are different now. Nothing to prove now.

Well, I’ve got nothing to prove now.

Someone else might feel a little differently.

I watch him pull off his pants again and head into the bedroom to find his sweatpants that are always here. He left them here once and they’ve never gone home. Week after week they somehow find themselves in my laundry. And week after week they end up in his drawer. They sat in that drawer for a long time once. But now they show up in the wash again.

He comes back, pants hanging loosely around his hips, pulling one of my old t-shirts over his head. He looks lost in it. Looks small.

The food comes and we eat out of containers on the floor, then lie back on the pillows and stare at the ceiling, listening to CDs. He talks and I listen. And I try really, really hard not to roll my eyes and sigh every time I hear, Cody says…

I don’t give a flying fuck what Cody says. Cody is a misdirected angry teenager. 

But sometimes I forget that Justin is a teenager too. Not for long, he’ll be 20 soon. Not a teenager anymore.

I remember being 20. And yeah, I was angry. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t understand why he’s so fucking angry.

Of course I understand it. Grow up in a household where a smack on the face is the answer to pretty much every fucking question, it’s hard to not understand wanting to fucking hit back. Grow up in a straight world where you have to work twice as hard as everyone else, where you’re judged because of who you choose to fuck, where people think it’s perfectly okay to criticize your lifestyle, make fun of you, mock you, make jokes and call you a faggot as if there’s nothing wrong with it at all.

You want to hit back. Want to strike out. Want to prove everyone wrong.

And I know I’ve hit back. More than once in my life. Sometimes figuratively… sometimes literally.

Justin’s just doing that too.

So I just listen to him tonight. Listen to him talk himself out until eventually his words are fewer and farther between and then there’s no more words and he’s quiet except for the deep, heavy breaths that let me know he’s asleep.

I roll onto my side and stare at him, his face all soft and smooth and not angry anymore. See what’s buried under the anger and hatred and a stupid credo and belief system that got ingrained a little too quickly.

It’s just Justin. Angry Justin. Vindictive Justin. Bitter Justin.

It’s still Justin no matter what.

I trust him. I know him. And maybe he just needs to do this.

Maybe I need to let him do this. Let him make his own mistakes.

Like sell himself at Babylon.

Like quit school.

Like leave me.

I lie beside him and watch him all night.

Cody’s mouth on mine feels wrong, feels wrong because it’s him, feels wrong because of where we are…

But I like the feeling of doing something I shouldn’t be. Kissing here in fucking straight-ville. His lips on mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth, and it feels sexy and kind of good and I hear someone say something, then hear a deeper voice, closer…

“Christ,” the words spit out of someone’s mouth and Cody’s lips tear from mine.

He heads over towards the guy and next thing I know, Cody’s fucking pulling his hair and I’ve got that rush again, better than drugs, almost better than cumming... that fucking rush and I feel fucking invincible, every muscle on edge, tense, heat wiping through my body, my cock twitching in my pants and…

“You fucking fags should all get AIDS and die,” the asshole growls and that’s it…

Don’t even know what I do, what I did, just know my fist flies out and I watch as it goes towards his face and I hear my voice saying that someone said that to me before. And I think of fuckin’ Hobbes at the hospice, think of beautiful Ben and kind Vic and even fucking Hunter and how they’re all gonna die from AIDs and this fucker thinks it’s okay.

And he falls down, partly from my punch, mostly from Cody pulling him down to the wet pavement and I kick him, my toes feeling like they’re breaking as they slam into the asshole’s ribs and I kick him again and I hear Cody laughing and everything is tinged red and happening so fast, so fucking fast and I hear voices and yelling and Cody grabs my jacket and tells me we have to get out of here now...

We run and run and I’ve never fucking run so fast in my life, never felt air pushing out of my lungs like this before, never felt pain searing in my body like this before, heart beating too fast, can’t catch my breath and still…

All I wanna do is laugh…

And finally we stop and Cody falls into my arms and kisses me on the top of my head and I feel his lips, warm and wet on my scalp and I look at my hands, bleeding and scraped.

Stop for a second and hold my hands in front of me. Shaking, fucking shaking and I can’t stop. Need to sit down because my legs are gonna give out…

I start to sit down on the sidewalk but Cody stops me and throws his arm over my shoulder.

“C’mon tough guy, I’ll buy ya a beer,” he says, still laughing and I can’t talk, can’t do anything but laugh back. Harsh coughing laughs as I gasp for air, trying to breathe again, trying to still my heart.

But the adrenalin is too high. And even when we get to Woody’s, and we sit in a booth, chugging back our bottles of beer, I look at my hands and I’m still shaking.

Still fucking shaking.

But it doesn’t hurt anymore. Not at all.

“You were fucking amazing, Justin,” Cody says, looking at me and biting his lip. “I knew you had it in you.”

I kick him under the table. “Not bad for Meg-fucking-Ryan, you asshole,” I laugh a little again.

“Hey, c’mon,” Cody leans back in his chair, smiling at me. “I had see if the pretty boy was serious, didn’t I?”

I rub my hand over my shaven head. “Not a pretty boy anymore,” I say, liking the buzzy feel of the stubble on my scalp.

“Nope. You’re a fucking hard ass,” he says to me, grinning. 

I shrug. Feels good to hear that. I don’t wanna be a pretty boy anymore. Don’t wanna be a twink or Sunshine or little Justin anymore.

And I’m not. I remember the face in the mirror now. Remember how I look now. Who I am now.

I’m different. I feel different, I look different, I am different.

Time for everyone to recognize that.

Funny how you think you can know someone so well… then find out that maybe you really don’t.

Find out that maybe they think things or have the ability to do things that you never, ever thought they would.

Find out that maybe they’re not entirely the person you thought they were. Find out that maybe they’re a little different than you imagined.

Find out that you just don’t know everything when you were absolutely positive that you did.

I mean… yeah, of course I know Justin. Better than pretty much anyone could ever know another person. Nothing can ever change that.

But…

Maybe there’s just more than I anticipated.

Maybe… maybe I don’t really know how to deal with this. Maybe I thought it was okay, and just a phase and ha ha, Justin’s wearing fatigues and shaved his head, and it’ll get tired soon.

Maybe I thought he couldn’t get hurt. Thought he needed to make mistakes and the mistakes he’d make would be ones that he’d learn from.

But maybe this is going too far.

Talking big is one thing. Dressing up to stand out, to make a point, is another. Carrying pepper spray—a weapon—yet another level.

But coming home with scrapes and bruises… coming home *hurt* from this… is something altogether different.

It makes it real for me. And it should’ve made it real for him and made him stop.

But it didn’t.

I have to bite my tongue and try to hold back all my words because I know there is no better way to get someone to do something than by making them think you don’t want them to do it.

I asked him to go with me to Babylon last night, and he didn’t. But he showed up here later, all wired again, ready to fuck, pouncing on me, and we fucked on the floor again and fucked in the shower and fucked in bed until we both passed out.

And now I wake up in bed beside him and feel like he’s changed and feel like something more happened last night that he’ll probably tell me about and that I’m pretty fucking sure I don’t want to hear.

But I can’t let him know that I don’t want to hear it, because then maybe he’ll stop telling me, and that’d be fucking worse. If I don’t know, then I can’t possibly protect him. Not that I can anyway, not that I should anyway… but… it gives me the false impression that I have the tiniest bit of control and influence in what goes on.

I know I don’t, but fuck, I need to pretend I do. For my own sanity. To keep me from doing something or saying something I’ll later regret.

I can only try and I can only ask and I can only let him know I’m here. That’s all I can do.

And I think maybe that’s all he wants from me.

Maybe this is all happening way too fucking fast and that’s the problem.

Maybe he doesn’t really know what he’s doing.

Maybe he’s getting a little lost.

I roll onto my side and slide my leg between his knees, rubbing my cock against his thigh. He stirs a little, then smiles in his sleep. Starts to wake up, goes to run his hand through his hair then stops and his eyes fly open. He holds his hand above his head and stares at it, then laughs out loud.

“I forgot,” he snickers.

I grab his hand, and bring it to my mouth, kissing his palm. Hold his fingers in mine and feel rough scabs on the back of his knuckles.

I turn over his hand and look at the scratches across his skin. His fingers are red and a little bruised like he’s hit something. Or someone.

“How’s your hand?” I ask, rubbing my fingers into his palm, massaging him like I do when his hand curls up from drawing too much. But he snatches his hand away and rolls out of bed.

“Fine,” he says, and puts his feet on the floor, standing up.

“Must hurt… doing whatever the fuck you’re doing,” I roll onto my back and watch him as he starts to walk away.

“There are things that are more important than art. Than school. Than drawing,” he says to me, walking around the end of the bed towards the bathroom. He balls his hand up into a fist and cracks his knuckles. I see him wince just the tiniest bit.

He turns his back on me and steps into the shower.

I watch him. I keep my mouth shut. Say nothing.

He’ll get over it.

He has to.