Part 6
“Hmm, I like this,” Quentin said, looking around the private spot where he and Chet had met to eat lunch together. It was under the bleachers, a little grassy meadow in a sea of dirt. Apparently only a few people knew about its existence, and it was usually used as a make-out spot during football games. For now, though, it was a place that they could come to avoid all prying eyes. He didn’t mind that Chet was still trying to hide the fact that he hung out with the gay boy; he figured that the athlete would come around in his own sweet time.
Chet grunted, chewing stoically on the sandwich that he’d brought from home. Quentin was utterly sure that his mother hadn’t made that packed lunch for him; she probably still hadn’t crawled out of her whiskey bottle yet today. He found it rather cute and touching that Chet made his own lunches and took care of himself so well. But he also found it rather sad, and wanted desperately to take over that task from the football player. Chet needed someone else to take care of him for a change. He needed to see that someone cared about him. Quentin was ready to fill that role whenever he could get Chet to relax enough to accept it from him. Of course, with the way he was that could take years…
Quentin took a bite of the lemon-herb chicken breast on a bed of wild rice that his mother had made him for lunch. He savored each bite, watching Chet surreptitiously. Finally the football player frowned and glanced up at him impatiently. “What?” he asked.
He smiled. “Nothing. I just like to watch you. That can’t really surprise you, big man…you must know that you’re a total stud by now. Don’t all the girls who throw themselves on you tell you that?”
Chet shrugged. “I guess. It gets pretty annoying sometimes, knowing that they’re only interested in me because of my looks or the fact that I’m good at football.”
Quentin nodded wisely. “I can see that,” he remarked. “You’re not the kind of shallow guy that would just accept all of that attention because of the way you look or your prowess at sports. You want something more…well, and there’s the fact that you’re gay…” he added with a twinkle in his blue eyes.
Chet rolled his own. “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” he said impatiently.
“Yes it does, since you’re very clearly gay,” Quentin told him cheerfully.
“Only to you. I think you’re only seeing what you want to see,” Chet pointed out acerbically.
Quentin cocked his head to the side a bit. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But I don’t really think so. Not from the way you’ve reacted to me sitting on your lap and kissing you. I know that I drive you crazy, that you don’t like me, and that you think that I’m wayyyy too flamboyant – but you still got a hard-on for me. That’s telling, big man.”
Chet sighed, shaking his head. “If you say so.”
“I do. But I can see that I’m upsetting you, so let’s talk about something else. First, let me say that I’m proud of you, Chet. You’ve been behaving really well lately. I think all of the school nerds are drawing a collective breath of relief.”
Chet’s mouth twisted. “I’m learning to control my anger,” he conceded. “Its not easy, but any time I start to get angry anymore all I can think about is how much I resemble my dad when I’m like that.”
“Which is good, because it makes you stop and think,” Quentin pointed out. “Always a plus in almost any situation, in my opinion. You’re doing really well. We’ll make a rational man out of you yet.”
“And yet you’ll always be a fruitcake,” Chet drawled. “What’s up with that?”
Quentin stared at him, and then burst out laughing. “That was funny, big man,” he gasped as he wiped at his eyes delicately (so as not to smear his eye liner).
“If you say so. I was being serious.”
“I know you were, which is why it’s so funny,” Quentin replied with a grin. “Anyway, I thought we could make small talk or something. Like – what do you want to be when you grow up, Chet? Although,” he eyed the football player’s massive frame thoughtfully, “If you grow up any more you’re going to end up on the Empire State Building holding a fainting woman in your hand and batting at airplanes.”
Chet gave him a sour look. He only smiled impishly in return, blowing the other boy a kiss. “Are you going to play professional football?” Quentin asked, setting his mostly empty food container aside on the grass.
“No,” Chet replied shortly. But when Quentin waited patiently for him to elaborate, he finally shrugged and continued: “I’ll probably play it in college if I don’t get hurt, because I can get a scholarship. Btu I was thinking…” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
“You were thinking?” Quentin prompted him.
Chet moved uneasily. “That I’d like to be…a…teacher,” he said, obviously bracing himself for Quentin’s reaction.
He was surprised, he had to admit. But he didn’t feel any scorn for Chet’s dream. “What kind of teacher?” Quentin asked curiously. “Elementary, high school, college?”
Chet looked startled at his question, as though he’d believed that Quentin would laugh at him or something. “I…college, probably,” he said slowly. “I’d like to specialize, and I can’t do that in high school or elementary school. Maybe history or economics, I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, I think that you’ll make an excellent teacher, big man,” Quentin told him stoutly. “You should definitely go for it.”
Chet just stared at him in silence for a moment. Quentin let him see that he meant what he’d just said. Finally Chet stirred, running a hand over his short bristle of hair. “You’re the only person that I’ve ever told that,” he said slowly.
“Well, I’m glad that you felt you could confide in me,” Quentin told him seriously. “I promise I won’t tell anybody else if you don’t want me to.”
Chet frowned a bit to himself. “Strangely enough, I really feel like I can trust you,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know why…I just do.”
“That’s because you can,” Quentin told him. “I might seem flighty and air-headed, but underneath all of that…and the make-up…there’s a trustworthy person who won’t let you down. You’ll see. Lots of other people might have failed you in your life, Chet, but I won’t. Not about the important things. Not ever.”
His tone of voice made what he said a solemn oath, and Chet drew in a shaky breath. “You make it sound like we’re going to have some kind of permanent relationship or something,” he said after a minute, eyeing Quentin warily.
“Well, if I have my way…who can say?” Quentin remarked with an evil gleam in his eyes and a naughty smile on his lips. “You never know, big man. You might eventually find that you can’t live without me.”
A skeptical look was his reward for these words, and he chuckled. “You can’t resist me,” Quentin said, stretching his arms above his head to make his t-shirt cling even more tightly to his muscles, “You only think that you can. Eventually you’ll cave completely.” He gave Chet a low-lidded, sensual look from under his darkened lashes.
“Delusional. That’s what you are,” Chet said.
“Oh, really?” Quentin moved with the suddenness and grace of a springing tiger, and Chet grunted as he suddenly found himself with a lapful of Quentin. He moved his lips close to Chet’s as he whispered: “Am I crazy, or just crazy about you?”
Chet’s hands came to rest at the small of his back, but he made no move to dump Quentin off of his lap. His caramel-colored eyes searched the blue ones intently. “Is most of what you say bullshit?” he asked in a low voice.
Quentin moved his head a bit closer, so that his nose brushed Chet’s. “Most of what I say is probably insane or a bit stupid,” he breathed, “But it’s a hundred per cent true. I don’t say anything that I don’t mean. I’m not leading you on, Chet. I wouldn’t do that. Too many people have already hurt you – I would never add to the pain,” he said softly.
Silence. Then Chet nodded his head a bit, and then his lips claimed Quentin’s in a kiss that was at first gentle and soft. Just a brushing of lips, a mingling of breaths. Slow and a little coy, a sort of testing of the waters. Quentin passively rested in Chet’s lap and let him do as he would, sensing that this was something that the other boy needed. When Chet deepened the kiss at last, he moaned softly and opened his mouth to that thick tongue. He sucked at it a bit, and then nipped at it with just the slightest hint of teeth. Chet groaned deep in his throat, and his hands slid up under Quentin’s t-shirt and stroked over the skin of his bare back.
Time slid away for both of them. The shrill ringing of the bell finally broke them apart, and he blinked and panted as he tried to make his brain work again. Chet’s chest was heaving, and he looked around in the dazed way that a man just waking from a dream might. “We have to go to class,” he said rather hoarsely.
“Yeah,” Quentin said regretfully, knowing that this was not the moment to push him. What had just happened had been so amazing, so special – he didn’t want to break that spell by insisting on anything. He slid off of Chet’s lap and pulled his shirt down in the back, watching as Chet began to pick up his backpack and the bag that he’d brought his lunch in.
Chet paused for a moment, turning to look at him. “Thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice intense.
If the sky had fallen on his head at that moment, Quentin wouldn’t have been any more surprised. His mouth opened a little, but at last he said: “You’re welcome, big man. Any time. Any time at all.”
Chet nodded, then slid out of the secret space carefully (he had to, big as he was) and moved off toward the school. Quentin began to pick up his own things, fumbling a little. He felt a bit dazed. And not just from that kiss, either. He was realizing something astonishing, wonderful, something so awesome that it was making him feel shaky and a bit confused. He, Quentin Thelonius Yardsley, was in love. Really, truly in love, for the very first time. Sure, he’d lusted after other guys, but he’d never felt like this about any of them. As though he wanted to know everything that they were thinking and feeling, and he wanted to spend every waking moment with them, and he would have killed to see them smile again…that’s how he felt. About Chet Rollins, the schoolyard bully and the biggest gay-basher in school. Ah, the irony. Life was really crazy sometimes.
He stumbled out of the secret spot and headed in to class on shaky legs, his eyes far away. Although maybe he shouldn’t have bothered and just ditched for the afternoon, because he didn’t hear one word that any of his teachers said for the rest of the day…
Gary was walking along the sidewalk, headed for the baseball field. After Patrick got done with practice, they were going to go see a movie together and then study over at his house. Everybody on the team was aware that he and Patrick were dating, but thanks to Gary’s former crush’s intervention, nobody hassled them about it. David Naylor had told his team firmly that if any of them had a beef with their teammate dating another guy, he could just leave the team because there was no room for bigots. Gary smiled to himself. He knew now why he’d had a crush on David; he really was a great guy.
Suddenly he found himself surrounded by large bodies. He froze, terror making his heart race and his body tremble as he looked around wildly at the hulking boys standing around him. They were all scowling menacingly, and one of them spat: “Look, boys. I think we’ve found ourselves a little fag to play with. What shall we do with him?”
Gary wondered distantly if he was going to faint. One of the boys cracked his knuckles significantly. “Maybe we should see what his insides look like,” he growled.
He looked around for some help, but there was nobody. He was about to get killed. Gary tried not to pee his pants, since that would only make this whole awful experience even more humiliating. He let forth a little whimper, cowering as the same one who’d just spoken threateningly stepped forward and balled his fist.
“Stop!” a deep voice barked from behind them. Startled, they all turned to look. Gary’s jaw dropped when he saw Chet Rollins standing there in his football uniform, anger in his eyes. But for once, that anger was being directed at not at the skinny little nerd but at the boys who surrounded him instead.
“What’s your problem, Rollins?” snapped one of the little gang.
Chet’s eyes came to rest on the speaker. “My problem is YOU, Anderson,” he replied coldly. “All of you. Either you guys get lost and leave him alone, or you’ll answer to me.”
“Since when do you care about fags, Chet?” another boy asked incredulously.
“Who says that I do? I’m just saving your lousy hides,” Chet snarled. “He’s friends with that Yardsley kid. You mess him up and he’ll turn you inside out and use your skin as a wall hanging. Be smart and walk away.”
The bullies exchanged uneasy glances at Chet’s logic. But since they were feeling courageous due to pack mentality, one of them said: “We can take that blue-haired freak. We’re not scared of him and his kung fu.”
Chet took a deep breath. “All right,” he said flatly. “But if you’re going to start something, let me throw the first punch.”
Gary quivered in absolute, utter fear as the other bullies exchanged glances. Finally, one of them nodded. “That’s cool,” he remarked.
Chet’s lips lifted in the slightest of smiles. “Good,” he replied, and then he hit the biggest of them as hard as he could on the jaw.
Gary’s mouth and eyes were both open as wide as they could go as the bully went over backward and lay there on the concrete unmoving. Chet flexed his hand a bit. “Who’s next?” he asked, looking around at the rest of them.
Shocked silence. Then: “What are you doing, man?” squalled one of those still standing.
“I threw the first punch,” Chet told him calmly. “And I’ll throw the second one, too, if you clowns don’t clear out right now. I’ll be happy to see how many of you I can put in the hospital today.”
Horrified staring, then the rest of the pack took to their heels without saying another word. They left their fallen comrade lying unmoving on the sidewalk, and Chet stepped over him casually. Gary stared up at him like a rabbit would a hawk descending upon him. Chet let out a long exhalation of breath, and then said: “Are you all right?”
Gary squeaked several times before he could get himself to speak properly. “I-I’m okay,” he stuttered.
Chet nodded. “What are you doing out here?” he asked curiously. "You don’t exactly look like an athlete.”
“Oh. No. I’m h-here to see my…ummm…FRIEND!” Gary burst out. He’d started to say ‘boyfriend’, but had practically bitten his tongue not to end up doing so. Even though Chet Rollins (CHET ROLLINS!) had just saved him from being beaten into a pulp, he was still terrified of the football player.
“Your friend? Is he on one of the teams?” Chet enquired.
Gary nodded rapidly. “T-The baseball team,” he managed to say.
“All right. Let’s go. I’ll walk you over there,” Chet remarked, which made Gary’s jaw hit the floor again.
“Err…you don’t have to do that,” he said timidly.
“It's no problem. I’m going that way anyway,” Chet told him. “I have practice.”
“Okay.” Gary fell into step beside the bigger boy, feeling dazed and completely out of it. Was this some kind of strange dream? Had Chet Rollins really saved him from other bullies, and was he being escorted by the same Chet Rollins to the baseball field? He wanted to feel his forehead to see if he had a high fever.
He glanced sideways at his silent, hulking companion. Chet’s face was pretty hard to read, so he had no idea what the bigger boy was thinking. At last he said rather shakily: “Thank you for saving me back there.”
Chet glanced down at him. “You’re welcome. But I really did it for them as much as you,” he replied. “That idiot will only THINK that I hurt him bad. That’s nothing to what your friend Quentin would do to him and his buddies if they hurt you. Having been at the other end of both his foot and his fist,” Chet added dryly, “I know what he’s capable of. They got off easy.”
“Oh,” Gary hadn’t really considered this, but he supposed that an angry Quentin would be a terrifying thing indeed. He hadn’t even been angry the two times that he’d stopped Chet from beating up on him; Gary shivered at the thought of what he might be capable of if he were pissed off over a friend being hurt by bullies. “Umm…Quen said…that he was…hanging out with you,” Gary began.
Chet stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Gary. “He told you that?” he didn’t sound terribly happy about this information.
Gary nodded rapidly, ‘But he didn’t tell anybody else!” he shrilled, trying to reassure Chet before he got angry. “Just me. And I haven’t even told my boy…uh…friend,” he hastened to add. “And I won’t tell anybody else, I swear.”
Chet stared down at him, and then nodded. They resumed walking, and Gary blew out a relieved breath. Chet was still pretty scary, savior or not. “You’re gay, aren’t you?” Chet said after a moment, making him jump.
He nodded unhappily. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Chet knowing this fact about him, even considering what had just happened. Chet had spent far too many years bashing guys like him for Gary to feel safe automatically just because he might have changed somewhat. Chet considered this in silence, while Gary waited tensely to see what he’d say. At last he began slowly: “How do you do it?”
Gary looked up at him, perplexed. “Do what?” he asked in puzzlement.
Chet shrugged. “Be gay,” he replied. “In high school, knowing that people hate you and look down on you. Especially a little guy like you,” he went on, looking Gary over contemplatively.
Gary drew in a long breath. “Oh. Well, I was scared to even admit it to myself, until I met Quen. He’s so confident. He doesn’t care what anybody thinks about him. He doesn’t care if they call him names or try to pick on him. He’s gay and he’s not ashamed of that. Meeting him, I couldn’t do any less. And now I’m free – free to be myself. And it’s the best feeling in the world,” he added, his face lighting up in shy pleasure. “I even have a boyfriend now.”
“The guy you’re going to see?” Chet said shrewdly.
Gary nodded. There was no hiding it now, and he really didn’t care. “Yeah, he’s on the baseball team.” He said proudly.
Chet was silent again as they approached the gates of the field where the baseball team was practicing. Then he remarked slowly: “Well, I suppose if someone like you can do it, I don’t have any excuse, do I?”’
“What? Someone like me? What do you mean?” Gary asked, baffled.
Chet paused and turned toward him. “Be gay,” he replied. “I can’t be a coward if a little shrimp like you can be courageous about it.”
Gary didn’t know quite how to reply to this, but Chet didn’t seem to need one anyway. “Here we are,” he went on, nodding toward the gates.
“Uh, thanks, Chet,” Gary said tentatively. “For saving me and all. I really appreciate it, even if you were really doing it for them,” he said gratefully.
Chet shook his head. “I wasn’t really doing it for them,” he told Gary simply. “I was doing it for you. Because you're Quentin’s friend. If I’m going to be really truthful here, I did it for HIM. I’ve got to get to practice,” he went on, lifting a hand. Then he turned and strode away, while Gary just stood there and watched his jersey-clad back retreating.
Gary finally shook himself out of his daze and slowly entered the gate. He went to take his usual seat on the bleachers, not wanting to disturb the team. He saw Patrick look up at him and lift a hand briefly, and he slumped down on the metal seat as he finally recovered from the pure, animalistic fear that he’d felt when those bullies had surrounded him. He thought about everything that had happened, and what Chet had said to him. Finally he pulled out his cell phone and called Quentin, hearing it ring several times before he heard his friend’s cheerful voice come on the line: “Hey, Gary, what’s up?” he chirped merrily.
“Quen? There’s something I really need to tell you,” Gary said to him.
“What is it? Is everything okay?” Quentin asked worriedly as he heard something in Gary’s voice.
“Yes, it is now. Let me tell you what happened,” Gary went on to tell Quentin all about his encounter with the bullies, and how Chet Rollins had saved him from certain doom. Quentin listened mostly in silence, only exclaiming occasionally in shock and amazement as Gary’s story unfolded. At last he fell silent, and Quentin said: “Wow. I don’t know what else to say, Gary. I’m really glad that you’re all right. And it looks like I’m going to have to have a long talk with Mr. Rollins sometime soon. Thanks for telling me.”
“You’re not going to be mad at him, are you?” Gary asked doubtfully.
A light-hearted giggle. “Hell, no. For being your knight in shining armor, I’m going to have to reward that magnificent beefcake in a very special way. Don’t worry, Gary, I’ll take good care of him.”
The insinuation in his voice made Gary’s cheeks heat a bit. “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll talk to you later, Quen. Patrick’s done practicing.”
“Okay. Have fun tonight, you two. No making out in the movie theater in the dark.” Quentin teased him.
His words made Gary’s breath catch at the vision they conjured up. He heard airy laughter over the phone, and then Quentin went on: “Talk to you later. Tell Patrick if he gives you a hickey, don’t put it anywhere too visible. Bye!”
Gary closed his phone, feeling the tell-tale heat in his cheeks that meant he was blushing furiously. It was great to have Quentin as a friend, but sometimes it was also really embarrassing…
Patrick came loping up the steps toward him. “Hey, Gary! You ready to go?” he asked cheerfully.
He nodded, rising to his feet. “I am. And have I got a story to tell you…”
Chet opened his front door to find Quentin standing on the doorstep. “What?” he asked warily.
A bright grin. “Can I come in? I want to talk to you.”
Chet shrugged but stepped back to let him in. Once they were in the living room, he turned to look at Quentin. “What do you want?” he asked abruptly.
Quentin tapped a finger against the side of his mouth. “Well, a little bird told me what you did for my friend Gary earlier today,” he said. “So I came over to…show my gratitude.”
Massive arms were folded over a broad chest as Chet looked down at him. “What if I don’t want your gratitude?”
Quentin chuckled. “It really doesn’t matter,” he chirped. “Because you’re going to get it whether you want it or not. Come on, big man; relax and take what’s coming to you.”
A narrowing of the caramel-colored eyes. “And just what is coming to me?” Chet asked.
Instead of answering with words, Quentin glided toward him. His blue eyes were full of a light that did not bode well for Chet. The football player took in a sharp breath and debated retreating, but what was he going to do? Lock himself in his bedroom like a coward to avoid a gay guy a third of his size? Never mind the fact that said gay guy could kick his ass ten ways to Sunday…
Then it was too late. Quentin was standing right in front of him. The blue eyes gazed up into his, then Quentin smiled wickedly and sank to his knees. He never looked away from Chet as his hands reached out for the buckle of the football player’s belt. He found himself unable to move, his breath huffing a little in his chest. Quentin licked his full lips like a hungry dog, anticipation in his gaze. His fingers made quick work of the buckle, and he went for the snap and zipper on Chet’s jeans instead. He remarked conversationally: “This won’t hurt a bit, big man, I swear.”
He might have responded, but just then Quentin managed to get the jeans open. He hummed in pleasure at the sight of the large bulge distorting the front of white cotton briefs. He leaned forward, and Chet’s words died in his throat as a warm, wet mouth closed over that bulge through the cotton and began to suck at it very lightly. He couldn’t look away from those glossy pink lips as they mouthed at his trapped penis. “Shit,” he managed to hiss under his breath.
Quentin licked the length of him. Then he drew back for a moment to say: “Don’t worry, Chet. Getting sucked off by another guy doesn’t make you gay – just me.”
He cleared his throat. “Who says that I want this?”
Quentin smirked at him. “I do,” he replied easily, hooking his fingers in the elastic band of the briefs and easing them down off of Chet’s cock. “Mmm, look at that. I’d say that this bad boy speaks volumes, don’t you?” he asked Chet as he curled his fingers over the rigid length of flesh.
He extended his pink tongue and waggled it at Chet. “This is good for more than just talking,” he purred. “Let me show you.”
Quentin then proceeded to lick the tip of his cock, like a cat enjoying a bowl of cream. He gathered up the droplets of precum leaking from the slit, while Chet groaned a bit in the back of his throat. Quentin swirled his tongue in a circle over the mushroom head, his hand stroking the root of the shaft at the same time. He lifted Chet’s cock and began to snake his tongue down the length of it, licking and lapping. His thumb rubbed over the head rhythmically. Chet shuddered, his hands spasming at his sides. All energy to protest seemed to have deserted him under Quentin’s skillful ministrations. He stared down at the electric-blue head moving at his groin as Quentin’s unoccupied hand rummaged in his briefs to find and free his balls.
Fingers rubbed and pressed at the base of his balls as Quentin opened his mouth wide and sank down not Chet’s cock. His lips pursed and slid down, encasing more and more of the shaft as his tongue rubbed lightly at the underside of it. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He reached down to tangle his fingers in the blue tresses. He directed the movements of Quentin’s bobbing head, thrusting himself into that warm, moist space and sawing his dick over the tongue that Quentin deliberately flattening and made rigid just for that.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he began to chant, gritting his teeth. He pushed in harder, feeling himself hitting the back of Quentin’s throat.
Quentin made some sounds around his cock, but when he tries to pull back hands grabbed his hips and stopped him. The blue head pushed forward determinedly, taking him all in. His cock was buried to the root in Quentin’s mouth and throat, and he could feel throat muscles massaging him. Fingers squeezed his balls at the same time, and Chet jerked and bucked as he roared out his pleasure and spurted down Quentin’s throat in a rush.
His legs were threatening to buckle out from under him as Quentin pulled back and began to lick him daintily clean. “I really enjoyed doing that,” he noted in a voice that was slightly hoarse. “Did you enjoy it, big man?”
He got his breath back. “It…wasn’t bad,” he managed to say.
Quaint gave him a mock-outraged look. “Just ‘not bad’?” he snorted. “I don’t think so. I’m the best that you have had or will EVER have.”
Chet eyed him as he wiped at his lips to get the rest of his lip gloss off(most of it seemed to have come off on his dick) and sat back on his heels. “You seem pretty sure about that,” he noted skeptically.
Quentin smirked. “Well, if you don’t believe me we’ll just have to keep practicing until you do,” he told Chet.
Chet tucked himself back into his briefs and jeans. “So you’re saying that you’ll blow me until I decide that you’re the best I’ve ever had?”
Quentin chuckled. “Honey, I’d blow you even if you DID decide that I’m the best you’ve ever had. Anyplace, anytime. Like I said, you don’t have to think of yourself as gay just because a gay guy wants to blow you.” He reassured Chet.
Silence. Quentin began to look a little worried, afraid that he’d pushed Chet too far, too fast. Finally the football player stirred. “I don’t want to just stand there and let you blow me,” he began, frowning.
Quentin hastened to say: “It’s all right, really. You don’t have to worry about anything, big man…”
“Shut up,” Chet said, startling him so much that he actually fell silent. “I’ve been thinking.” He continued slowly. “Ever since I talked to your friend Gary earlier. If someone like him…a nerd, and a runt…can choose to be who he is, how can I keep pretending that I’m something that I’m not? Ever since my dad went to jail for killing a gay guy, I’ve hated to even think about it…I just knew that he’d hate me if he suspected that his son…might like other guys.”
Quentin remained silent, although he rose to his feet. He could tell that Chet really needed to get this off of his chest. The football player looked down at the floor like he was fascinated by it. “I didn’t want any of this,” he growled to himself. “I figured that I’d date girls and play football, that I’d get married and have kids and be a teacher. Be like everybody else. Then you,” his eyes rose to meet Quentin’s, “Came to our school with your blue hair and your slut outfits and you kicked my ass. You! I mean, you’re little compared to me, and yet you did it. And I didn’t know what to think. You drove me crazy. And you kissed me in front of everybody. I wanted to kill you. I really wanted to kill you. But then…something happened,” his shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “Somehow you made me change. To think about myself in a different way. And to think about you in a different way, too. I don’t know how you did it, but it happened. So now..” he trailed off, his brows drawing down a little, “I have to be honest with myself. I…like guys. I’ve been with girls, but none of them…ever made me feel the way you just did.”
Quentin found himself holding his breath. “Oh,” he said softly as Chet stopped talking at last. “Oh, big man. I’m so glad. That you can look at yourself honestly. That’s a gift, you know. The worst thing you can do is lie to yourself.” He paused, then swallowed heavily. “Chet?”
“Yeah?”
Quentin spoke through a throat that felt like it was tightening a little. “If you know that you’re gay now…would you be gay with me?”
Chet stared at him. “What are you asking?” he said after a moment.
Quentin made a nervous movement with his hands. “I’d like…no, I’d LOVE it if we could…you know…be together,” he said. “I know you don’t really like me, and that I can be totally annoying, but I really want this…”
His eyes were pleading. Chet sighed, and he tensed as he waited for the big brush off. Then the football player spoke: “Of course we have to be together. Do you think that I could be openly gay for anybody else? Or with anybody else, for that matter? There’s no way in hell that I would have admitted this if it weren’t for you.”
Quentin yelped with joy and threw himself into Chet’s arms. He hugged the football player tightly. “You’ve made me so happy, Chet,” he said into the bigger boy’s shirt.
A big hand patted his shoulder. “That’s good,” Chet said. “Are you going to stay like that all day?”
Quentin giggled against his shirt. “I might,” he replied merrily. “I like it here. You’re like a giant, muscular teddy bear. I just want to cuddle you forever.”
Chet shook his head, although his hand rubbed up and down Quentin’s back as he did so. “What the hell am I getting into?” he muttered.
Quentin pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “Well, big man…if you’re really lucky, you’ll be getting into me.”
Go to Part 7
“Hmm, I like this,” Quentin said, looking around the private spot where he and Chet had met to eat lunch together. It was under the bleachers, a little grassy meadow in a sea of dirt. Apparently only a few people knew about its existence, and it was usually used as a make-out spot during football games. For now, though, it was a place that they could come to avoid all prying eyes. He didn’t mind that Chet was still trying to hide the fact that he hung out with the gay boy; he figured that the athlete would come around in his own sweet time.
Chet grunted, chewing stoically on the sandwich that he’d brought from home. Quentin was utterly sure that his mother hadn’t made that packed lunch for him; she probably still hadn’t crawled out of her whiskey bottle yet today. He found it rather cute and touching that Chet made his own lunches and took care of himself so well. But he also found it rather sad, and wanted desperately to take over that task from the football player. Chet needed someone else to take care of him for a change. He needed to see that someone cared about him. Quentin was ready to fill that role whenever he could get Chet to relax enough to accept it from him. Of course, with the way he was that could take years…
Quentin took a bite of the lemon-herb chicken breast on a bed of wild rice that his mother had made him for lunch. He savored each bite, watching Chet surreptitiously. Finally the football player frowned and glanced up at him impatiently. “What?” he asked.
He smiled. “Nothing. I just like to watch you. That can’t really surprise you, big man…you must know that you’re a total stud by now. Don’t all the girls who throw themselves on you tell you that?”
Chet shrugged. “I guess. It gets pretty annoying sometimes, knowing that they’re only interested in me because of my looks or the fact that I’m good at football.”
Quentin nodded wisely. “I can see that,” he remarked. “You’re not the kind of shallow guy that would just accept all of that attention because of the way you look or your prowess at sports. You want something more…well, and there’s the fact that you’re gay…” he added with a twinkle in his blue eyes.
Chet rolled his own. “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?” he said impatiently.
“Yes it does, since you’re very clearly gay,” Quentin told him cheerfully.
“Only to you. I think you’re only seeing what you want to see,” Chet pointed out acerbically.
Quentin cocked his head to the side a bit. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But I don’t really think so. Not from the way you’ve reacted to me sitting on your lap and kissing you. I know that I drive you crazy, that you don’t like me, and that you think that I’m wayyyy too flamboyant – but you still got a hard-on for me. That’s telling, big man.”
Chet sighed, shaking his head. “If you say so.”
“I do. But I can see that I’m upsetting you, so let’s talk about something else. First, let me say that I’m proud of you, Chet. You’ve been behaving really well lately. I think all of the school nerds are drawing a collective breath of relief.”
Chet’s mouth twisted. “I’m learning to control my anger,” he conceded. “Its not easy, but any time I start to get angry anymore all I can think about is how much I resemble my dad when I’m like that.”
“Which is good, because it makes you stop and think,” Quentin pointed out. “Always a plus in almost any situation, in my opinion. You’re doing really well. We’ll make a rational man out of you yet.”
“And yet you’ll always be a fruitcake,” Chet drawled. “What’s up with that?”
Quentin stared at him, and then burst out laughing. “That was funny, big man,” he gasped as he wiped at his eyes delicately (so as not to smear his eye liner).
“If you say so. I was being serious.”
“I know you were, which is why it’s so funny,” Quentin replied with a grin. “Anyway, I thought we could make small talk or something. Like – what do you want to be when you grow up, Chet? Although,” he eyed the football player’s massive frame thoughtfully, “If you grow up any more you’re going to end up on the Empire State Building holding a fainting woman in your hand and batting at airplanes.”
Chet gave him a sour look. He only smiled impishly in return, blowing the other boy a kiss. “Are you going to play professional football?” Quentin asked, setting his mostly empty food container aside on the grass.
“No,” Chet replied shortly. But when Quentin waited patiently for him to elaborate, he finally shrugged and continued: “I’ll probably play it in college if I don’t get hurt, because I can get a scholarship. Btu I was thinking…” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
“You were thinking?” Quentin prompted him.
Chet moved uneasily. “That I’d like to be…a…teacher,” he said, obviously bracing himself for Quentin’s reaction.
He was surprised, he had to admit. But he didn’t feel any scorn for Chet’s dream. “What kind of teacher?” Quentin asked curiously. “Elementary, high school, college?”
Chet looked startled at his question, as though he’d believed that Quentin would laugh at him or something. “I…college, probably,” he said slowly. “I’d like to specialize, and I can’t do that in high school or elementary school. Maybe history or economics, I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, I think that you’ll make an excellent teacher, big man,” Quentin told him stoutly. “You should definitely go for it.”
Chet just stared at him in silence for a moment. Quentin let him see that he meant what he’d just said. Finally Chet stirred, running a hand over his short bristle of hair. “You’re the only person that I’ve ever told that,” he said slowly.
“Well, I’m glad that you felt you could confide in me,” Quentin told him seriously. “I promise I won’t tell anybody else if you don’t want me to.”
Chet frowned a bit to himself. “Strangely enough, I really feel like I can trust you,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know why…I just do.”
“That’s because you can,” Quentin told him. “I might seem flighty and air-headed, but underneath all of that…and the make-up…there’s a trustworthy person who won’t let you down. You’ll see. Lots of other people might have failed you in your life, Chet, but I won’t. Not about the important things. Not ever.”
His tone of voice made what he said a solemn oath, and Chet drew in a shaky breath. “You make it sound like we’re going to have some kind of permanent relationship or something,” he said after a minute, eyeing Quentin warily.
“Well, if I have my way…who can say?” Quentin remarked with an evil gleam in his eyes and a naughty smile on his lips. “You never know, big man. You might eventually find that you can’t live without me.”
A skeptical look was his reward for these words, and he chuckled. “You can’t resist me,” Quentin said, stretching his arms above his head to make his t-shirt cling even more tightly to his muscles, “You only think that you can. Eventually you’ll cave completely.” He gave Chet a low-lidded, sensual look from under his darkened lashes.
“Delusional. That’s what you are,” Chet said.
“Oh, really?” Quentin moved with the suddenness and grace of a springing tiger, and Chet grunted as he suddenly found himself with a lapful of Quentin. He moved his lips close to Chet’s as he whispered: “Am I crazy, or just crazy about you?”
Chet’s hands came to rest at the small of his back, but he made no move to dump Quentin off of his lap. His caramel-colored eyes searched the blue ones intently. “Is most of what you say bullshit?” he asked in a low voice.
Quentin moved his head a bit closer, so that his nose brushed Chet’s. “Most of what I say is probably insane or a bit stupid,” he breathed, “But it’s a hundred per cent true. I don’t say anything that I don’t mean. I’m not leading you on, Chet. I wouldn’t do that. Too many people have already hurt you – I would never add to the pain,” he said softly.
Silence. Then Chet nodded his head a bit, and then his lips claimed Quentin’s in a kiss that was at first gentle and soft. Just a brushing of lips, a mingling of breaths. Slow and a little coy, a sort of testing of the waters. Quentin passively rested in Chet’s lap and let him do as he would, sensing that this was something that the other boy needed. When Chet deepened the kiss at last, he moaned softly and opened his mouth to that thick tongue. He sucked at it a bit, and then nipped at it with just the slightest hint of teeth. Chet groaned deep in his throat, and his hands slid up under Quentin’s t-shirt and stroked over the skin of his bare back.
Time slid away for both of them. The shrill ringing of the bell finally broke them apart, and he blinked and panted as he tried to make his brain work again. Chet’s chest was heaving, and he looked around in the dazed way that a man just waking from a dream might. “We have to go to class,” he said rather hoarsely.
“Yeah,” Quentin said regretfully, knowing that this was not the moment to push him. What had just happened had been so amazing, so special – he didn’t want to break that spell by insisting on anything. He slid off of Chet’s lap and pulled his shirt down in the back, watching as Chet began to pick up his backpack and the bag that he’d brought his lunch in.
Chet paused for a moment, turning to look at him. “Thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice intense.
If the sky had fallen on his head at that moment, Quentin wouldn’t have been any more surprised. His mouth opened a little, but at last he said: “You’re welcome, big man. Any time. Any time at all.”
Chet nodded, then slid out of the secret space carefully (he had to, big as he was) and moved off toward the school. Quentin began to pick up his own things, fumbling a little. He felt a bit dazed. And not just from that kiss, either. He was realizing something astonishing, wonderful, something so awesome that it was making him feel shaky and a bit confused. He, Quentin Thelonius Yardsley, was in love. Really, truly in love, for the very first time. Sure, he’d lusted after other guys, but he’d never felt like this about any of them. As though he wanted to know everything that they were thinking and feeling, and he wanted to spend every waking moment with them, and he would have killed to see them smile again…that’s how he felt. About Chet Rollins, the schoolyard bully and the biggest gay-basher in school. Ah, the irony. Life was really crazy sometimes.
He stumbled out of the secret spot and headed in to class on shaky legs, his eyes far away. Although maybe he shouldn’t have bothered and just ditched for the afternoon, because he didn’t hear one word that any of his teachers said for the rest of the day…
Gary was walking along the sidewalk, headed for the baseball field. After Patrick got done with practice, they were going to go see a movie together and then study over at his house. Everybody on the team was aware that he and Patrick were dating, but thanks to Gary’s former crush’s intervention, nobody hassled them about it. David Naylor had told his team firmly that if any of them had a beef with their teammate dating another guy, he could just leave the team because there was no room for bigots. Gary smiled to himself. He knew now why he’d had a crush on David; he really was a great guy.
Suddenly he found himself surrounded by large bodies. He froze, terror making his heart race and his body tremble as he looked around wildly at the hulking boys standing around him. They were all scowling menacingly, and one of them spat: “Look, boys. I think we’ve found ourselves a little fag to play with. What shall we do with him?”
Gary wondered distantly if he was going to faint. One of the boys cracked his knuckles significantly. “Maybe we should see what his insides look like,” he growled.
He looked around for some help, but there was nobody. He was about to get killed. Gary tried not to pee his pants, since that would only make this whole awful experience even more humiliating. He let forth a little whimper, cowering as the same one who’d just spoken threateningly stepped forward and balled his fist.
“Stop!” a deep voice barked from behind them. Startled, they all turned to look. Gary’s jaw dropped when he saw Chet Rollins standing there in his football uniform, anger in his eyes. But for once, that anger was being directed at not at the skinny little nerd but at the boys who surrounded him instead.
“What’s your problem, Rollins?” snapped one of the little gang.
Chet’s eyes came to rest on the speaker. “My problem is YOU, Anderson,” he replied coldly. “All of you. Either you guys get lost and leave him alone, or you’ll answer to me.”
“Since when do you care about fags, Chet?” another boy asked incredulously.
“Who says that I do? I’m just saving your lousy hides,” Chet snarled. “He’s friends with that Yardsley kid. You mess him up and he’ll turn you inside out and use your skin as a wall hanging. Be smart and walk away.”
The bullies exchanged uneasy glances at Chet’s logic. But since they were feeling courageous due to pack mentality, one of them said: “We can take that blue-haired freak. We’re not scared of him and his kung fu.”
Chet took a deep breath. “All right,” he said flatly. “But if you’re going to start something, let me throw the first punch.”
Gary quivered in absolute, utter fear as the other bullies exchanged glances. Finally, one of them nodded. “That’s cool,” he remarked.
Chet’s lips lifted in the slightest of smiles. “Good,” he replied, and then he hit the biggest of them as hard as he could on the jaw.
Gary’s mouth and eyes were both open as wide as they could go as the bully went over backward and lay there on the concrete unmoving. Chet flexed his hand a bit. “Who’s next?” he asked, looking around at the rest of them.
Shocked silence. Then: “What are you doing, man?” squalled one of those still standing.
“I threw the first punch,” Chet told him calmly. “And I’ll throw the second one, too, if you clowns don’t clear out right now. I’ll be happy to see how many of you I can put in the hospital today.”
Horrified staring, then the rest of the pack took to their heels without saying another word. They left their fallen comrade lying unmoving on the sidewalk, and Chet stepped over him casually. Gary stared up at him like a rabbit would a hawk descending upon him. Chet let out a long exhalation of breath, and then said: “Are you all right?”
Gary squeaked several times before he could get himself to speak properly. “I-I’m okay,” he stuttered.
Chet nodded. “What are you doing out here?” he asked curiously. "You don’t exactly look like an athlete.”
“Oh. No. I’m h-here to see my…ummm…FRIEND!” Gary burst out. He’d started to say ‘boyfriend’, but had practically bitten his tongue not to end up doing so. Even though Chet Rollins (CHET ROLLINS!) had just saved him from being beaten into a pulp, he was still terrified of the football player.
“Your friend? Is he on one of the teams?” Chet enquired.
Gary nodded rapidly. “T-The baseball team,” he managed to say.
“All right. Let’s go. I’ll walk you over there,” Chet remarked, which made Gary’s jaw hit the floor again.
“Err…you don’t have to do that,” he said timidly.
“It's no problem. I’m going that way anyway,” Chet told him. “I have practice.”
“Okay.” Gary fell into step beside the bigger boy, feeling dazed and completely out of it. Was this some kind of strange dream? Had Chet Rollins really saved him from other bullies, and was he being escorted by the same Chet Rollins to the baseball field? He wanted to feel his forehead to see if he had a high fever.
He glanced sideways at his silent, hulking companion. Chet’s face was pretty hard to read, so he had no idea what the bigger boy was thinking. At last he said rather shakily: “Thank you for saving me back there.”
Chet glanced down at him. “You’re welcome. But I really did it for them as much as you,” he replied. “That idiot will only THINK that I hurt him bad. That’s nothing to what your friend Quentin would do to him and his buddies if they hurt you. Having been at the other end of both his foot and his fist,” Chet added dryly, “I know what he’s capable of. They got off easy.”
“Oh,” Gary hadn’t really considered this, but he supposed that an angry Quentin would be a terrifying thing indeed. He hadn’t even been angry the two times that he’d stopped Chet from beating up on him; Gary shivered at the thought of what he might be capable of if he were pissed off over a friend being hurt by bullies. “Umm…Quen said…that he was…hanging out with you,” Gary began.
Chet stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Gary. “He told you that?” he didn’t sound terribly happy about this information.
Gary nodded rapidly, ‘But he didn’t tell anybody else!” he shrilled, trying to reassure Chet before he got angry. “Just me. And I haven’t even told my boy…uh…friend,” he hastened to add. “And I won’t tell anybody else, I swear.”
Chet stared down at him, and then nodded. They resumed walking, and Gary blew out a relieved breath. Chet was still pretty scary, savior or not. “You’re gay, aren’t you?” Chet said after a moment, making him jump.
He nodded unhappily. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Chet knowing this fact about him, even considering what had just happened. Chet had spent far too many years bashing guys like him for Gary to feel safe automatically just because he might have changed somewhat. Chet considered this in silence, while Gary waited tensely to see what he’d say. At last he began slowly: “How do you do it?”
Gary looked up at him, perplexed. “Do what?” he asked in puzzlement.
Chet shrugged. “Be gay,” he replied. “In high school, knowing that people hate you and look down on you. Especially a little guy like you,” he went on, looking Gary over contemplatively.
Gary drew in a long breath. “Oh. Well, I was scared to even admit it to myself, until I met Quen. He’s so confident. He doesn’t care what anybody thinks about him. He doesn’t care if they call him names or try to pick on him. He’s gay and he’s not ashamed of that. Meeting him, I couldn’t do any less. And now I’m free – free to be myself. And it’s the best feeling in the world,” he added, his face lighting up in shy pleasure. “I even have a boyfriend now.”
“The guy you’re going to see?” Chet said shrewdly.
Gary nodded. There was no hiding it now, and he really didn’t care. “Yeah, he’s on the baseball team.” He said proudly.
Chet was silent again as they approached the gates of the field where the baseball team was practicing. Then he remarked slowly: “Well, I suppose if someone like you can do it, I don’t have any excuse, do I?”’
“What? Someone like me? What do you mean?” Gary asked, baffled.
Chet paused and turned toward him. “Be gay,” he replied. “I can’t be a coward if a little shrimp like you can be courageous about it.”
Gary didn’t know quite how to reply to this, but Chet didn’t seem to need one anyway. “Here we are,” he went on, nodding toward the gates.
“Uh, thanks, Chet,” Gary said tentatively. “For saving me and all. I really appreciate it, even if you were really doing it for them,” he said gratefully.
Chet shook his head. “I wasn’t really doing it for them,” he told Gary simply. “I was doing it for you. Because you're Quentin’s friend. If I’m going to be really truthful here, I did it for HIM. I’ve got to get to practice,” he went on, lifting a hand. Then he turned and strode away, while Gary just stood there and watched his jersey-clad back retreating.
Gary finally shook himself out of his daze and slowly entered the gate. He went to take his usual seat on the bleachers, not wanting to disturb the team. He saw Patrick look up at him and lift a hand briefly, and he slumped down on the metal seat as he finally recovered from the pure, animalistic fear that he’d felt when those bullies had surrounded him. He thought about everything that had happened, and what Chet had said to him. Finally he pulled out his cell phone and called Quentin, hearing it ring several times before he heard his friend’s cheerful voice come on the line: “Hey, Gary, what’s up?” he chirped merrily.
“Quen? There’s something I really need to tell you,” Gary said to him.
“What is it? Is everything okay?” Quentin asked worriedly as he heard something in Gary’s voice.
“Yes, it is now. Let me tell you what happened,” Gary went on to tell Quentin all about his encounter with the bullies, and how Chet Rollins had saved him from certain doom. Quentin listened mostly in silence, only exclaiming occasionally in shock and amazement as Gary’s story unfolded. At last he fell silent, and Quentin said: “Wow. I don’t know what else to say, Gary. I’m really glad that you’re all right. And it looks like I’m going to have to have a long talk with Mr. Rollins sometime soon. Thanks for telling me.”
“You’re not going to be mad at him, are you?” Gary asked doubtfully.
A light-hearted giggle. “Hell, no. For being your knight in shining armor, I’m going to have to reward that magnificent beefcake in a very special way. Don’t worry, Gary, I’ll take good care of him.”
The insinuation in his voice made Gary’s cheeks heat a bit. “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll talk to you later, Quen. Patrick’s done practicing.”
“Okay. Have fun tonight, you two. No making out in the movie theater in the dark.” Quentin teased him.
His words made Gary’s breath catch at the vision they conjured up. He heard airy laughter over the phone, and then Quentin went on: “Talk to you later. Tell Patrick if he gives you a hickey, don’t put it anywhere too visible. Bye!”
Gary closed his phone, feeling the tell-tale heat in his cheeks that meant he was blushing furiously. It was great to have Quentin as a friend, but sometimes it was also really embarrassing…
Patrick came loping up the steps toward him. “Hey, Gary! You ready to go?” he asked cheerfully.
He nodded, rising to his feet. “I am. And have I got a story to tell you…”
Chet opened his front door to find Quentin standing on the doorstep. “What?” he asked warily.
A bright grin. “Can I come in? I want to talk to you.”
Chet shrugged but stepped back to let him in. Once they were in the living room, he turned to look at Quentin. “What do you want?” he asked abruptly.
Quentin tapped a finger against the side of his mouth. “Well, a little bird told me what you did for my friend Gary earlier today,” he said. “So I came over to…show my gratitude.”
Massive arms were folded over a broad chest as Chet looked down at him. “What if I don’t want your gratitude?”
Quentin chuckled. “It really doesn’t matter,” he chirped. “Because you’re going to get it whether you want it or not. Come on, big man; relax and take what’s coming to you.”
A narrowing of the caramel-colored eyes. “And just what is coming to me?” Chet asked.
Instead of answering with words, Quentin glided toward him. His blue eyes were full of a light that did not bode well for Chet. The football player took in a sharp breath and debated retreating, but what was he going to do? Lock himself in his bedroom like a coward to avoid a gay guy a third of his size? Never mind the fact that said gay guy could kick his ass ten ways to Sunday…
Then it was too late. Quentin was standing right in front of him. The blue eyes gazed up into his, then Quentin smiled wickedly and sank to his knees. He never looked away from Chet as his hands reached out for the buckle of the football player’s belt. He found himself unable to move, his breath huffing a little in his chest. Quentin licked his full lips like a hungry dog, anticipation in his gaze. His fingers made quick work of the buckle, and he went for the snap and zipper on Chet’s jeans instead. He remarked conversationally: “This won’t hurt a bit, big man, I swear.”
He might have responded, but just then Quentin managed to get the jeans open. He hummed in pleasure at the sight of the large bulge distorting the front of white cotton briefs. He leaned forward, and Chet’s words died in his throat as a warm, wet mouth closed over that bulge through the cotton and began to suck at it very lightly. He couldn’t look away from those glossy pink lips as they mouthed at his trapped penis. “Shit,” he managed to hiss under his breath.
Quentin licked the length of him. Then he drew back for a moment to say: “Don’t worry, Chet. Getting sucked off by another guy doesn’t make you gay – just me.”
He cleared his throat. “Who says that I want this?”
Quentin smirked at him. “I do,” he replied easily, hooking his fingers in the elastic band of the briefs and easing them down off of Chet’s cock. “Mmm, look at that. I’d say that this bad boy speaks volumes, don’t you?” he asked Chet as he curled his fingers over the rigid length of flesh.
He extended his pink tongue and waggled it at Chet. “This is good for more than just talking,” he purred. “Let me show you.”
Quentin then proceeded to lick the tip of his cock, like a cat enjoying a bowl of cream. He gathered up the droplets of precum leaking from the slit, while Chet groaned a bit in the back of his throat. Quentin swirled his tongue in a circle over the mushroom head, his hand stroking the root of the shaft at the same time. He lifted Chet’s cock and began to snake his tongue down the length of it, licking and lapping. His thumb rubbed over the head rhythmically. Chet shuddered, his hands spasming at his sides. All energy to protest seemed to have deserted him under Quentin’s skillful ministrations. He stared down at the electric-blue head moving at his groin as Quentin’s unoccupied hand rummaged in his briefs to find and free his balls.
Fingers rubbed and pressed at the base of his balls as Quentin opened his mouth wide and sank down not Chet’s cock. His lips pursed and slid down, encasing more and more of the shaft as his tongue rubbed lightly at the underside of it. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He reached down to tangle his fingers in the blue tresses. He directed the movements of Quentin’s bobbing head, thrusting himself into that warm, moist space and sawing his dick over the tongue that Quentin deliberately flattening and made rigid just for that.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he began to chant, gritting his teeth. He pushed in harder, feeling himself hitting the back of Quentin’s throat.
Quentin made some sounds around his cock, but when he tries to pull back hands grabbed his hips and stopped him. The blue head pushed forward determinedly, taking him all in. His cock was buried to the root in Quentin’s mouth and throat, and he could feel throat muscles massaging him. Fingers squeezed his balls at the same time, and Chet jerked and bucked as he roared out his pleasure and spurted down Quentin’s throat in a rush.
His legs were threatening to buckle out from under him as Quentin pulled back and began to lick him daintily clean. “I really enjoyed doing that,” he noted in a voice that was slightly hoarse. “Did you enjoy it, big man?”
He got his breath back. “It…wasn’t bad,” he managed to say.
Quaint gave him a mock-outraged look. “Just ‘not bad’?” he snorted. “I don’t think so. I’m the best that you have had or will EVER have.”
Chet eyed him as he wiped at his lips to get the rest of his lip gloss off(most of it seemed to have come off on his dick) and sat back on his heels. “You seem pretty sure about that,” he noted skeptically.
Quentin smirked. “Well, if you don’t believe me we’ll just have to keep practicing until you do,” he told Chet.
Chet tucked himself back into his briefs and jeans. “So you’re saying that you’ll blow me until I decide that you’re the best I’ve ever had?”
Quentin chuckled. “Honey, I’d blow you even if you DID decide that I’m the best you’ve ever had. Anyplace, anytime. Like I said, you don’t have to think of yourself as gay just because a gay guy wants to blow you.” He reassured Chet.
Silence. Quentin began to look a little worried, afraid that he’d pushed Chet too far, too fast. Finally the football player stirred. “I don’t want to just stand there and let you blow me,” he began, frowning.
Quentin hastened to say: “It’s all right, really. You don’t have to worry about anything, big man…”
“Shut up,” Chet said, startling him so much that he actually fell silent. “I’ve been thinking.” He continued slowly. “Ever since I talked to your friend Gary earlier. If someone like him…a nerd, and a runt…can choose to be who he is, how can I keep pretending that I’m something that I’m not? Ever since my dad went to jail for killing a gay guy, I’ve hated to even think about it…I just knew that he’d hate me if he suspected that his son…might like other guys.”
Quentin remained silent, although he rose to his feet. He could tell that Chet really needed to get this off of his chest. The football player looked down at the floor like he was fascinated by it. “I didn’t want any of this,” he growled to himself. “I figured that I’d date girls and play football, that I’d get married and have kids and be a teacher. Be like everybody else. Then you,” his eyes rose to meet Quentin’s, “Came to our school with your blue hair and your slut outfits and you kicked my ass. You! I mean, you’re little compared to me, and yet you did it. And I didn’t know what to think. You drove me crazy. And you kissed me in front of everybody. I wanted to kill you. I really wanted to kill you. But then…something happened,” his shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “Somehow you made me change. To think about myself in a different way. And to think about you in a different way, too. I don’t know how you did it, but it happened. So now..” he trailed off, his brows drawing down a little, “I have to be honest with myself. I…like guys. I’ve been with girls, but none of them…ever made me feel the way you just did.”
Quentin found himself holding his breath. “Oh,” he said softly as Chet stopped talking at last. “Oh, big man. I’m so glad. That you can look at yourself honestly. That’s a gift, you know. The worst thing you can do is lie to yourself.” He paused, then swallowed heavily. “Chet?”
“Yeah?”
Quentin spoke through a throat that felt like it was tightening a little. “If you know that you’re gay now…would you be gay with me?”
Chet stared at him. “What are you asking?” he said after a moment.
Quentin made a nervous movement with his hands. “I’d like…no, I’d LOVE it if we could…you know…be together,” he said. “I know you don’t really like me, and that I can be totally annoying, but I really want this…”
His eyes were pleading. Chet sighed, and he tensed as he waited for the big brush off. Then the football player spoke: “Of course we have to be together. Do you think that I could be openly gay for anybody else? Or with anybody else, for that matter? There’s no way in hell that I would have admitted this if it weren’t for you.”
Quentin yelped with joy and threw himself into Chet’s arms. He hugged the football player tightly. “You’ve made me so happy, Chet,” he said into the bigger boy’s shirt.
A big hand patted his shoulder. “That’s good,” Chet said. “Are you going to stay like that all day?”
Quentin giggled against his shirt. “I might,” he replied merrily. “I like it here. You’re like a giant, muscular teddy bear. I just want to cuddle you forever.”
Chet shook his head, although his hand rubbed up and down Quentin’s back as he did so. “What the hell am I getting into?” he muttered.
Quentin pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “Well, big man…if you’re really lucky, you’ll be getting into me.”
Go to Part 7
