Page 23 of Dire Straights

As I tried to think of dogs getting run over and grandmas in miniskirts and anything else that would calm me down, I could feel Ren panting heavily against my neck. He was grinding his dick against me in such a perfect rhythm that I wondered if he was secretly a porn star on the side or something.

I opened my mouth to tell him to wait, slow down,something, but before I could say anything, he slid his hands under my shirt, pushing the wet fabric up my stomach. He was barely touching me, just squeezing my waist and stroking my skin with his thumbs, but I was so touch-starved that he might as well have been jerking me off. Pleasure crashed over me in a sudden and instant wave, my balls drawing up tight to my body.

“W-wait, Ren-Fuck…” I pushed at his shoulders, trying to get him off me, but it was too late. My back arched as I threw my head back, my hips bucking helplessly against him as I came. Hard. It felt like it went on forever, each new spurt of come intensifying the powerful sensation. When it was over, I went limp, my thighs slumping down on either side of Ren’s hips to lay flat on the bed. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, but the strongest orgasm I’d ever had. If I hadn’t been so incredibly and horribly embarrassed, I could have probably laid there for hours.

“Did you…” Ren trailed off, staring down at me in complete shock. His eyes were glassy, with blown out pupils, and hislips looked dark and swollen. The feeling of his stiff cock still prodding into mine was only adding insult to injury. “Did you just come?”

“Shut up.” It was all I could think to say. I felt like I was in shock, numb all over but so nauseous I wanted to puke. I’d never been so humiliated in my entire life. Shoving him, I sprang up off the bed, breathing so hard I felt like my lungs would explode.

“It’s fine, Maddy. It’s not a big deal. Just-”

“I said shut the fuck up!” I snapped at him. My fists clenched, muscles tensing like I wanted to fight him. Swiveling on my heel, I yanked his door open and raced out. I heard him calling for me, but I just kept running.

Kissing him had been a stupid idea. The worst idea I’d ever had. I’d never lost control like that with a girl. I wanted to go back in time to when he’d first pranced up to my desk and tell him to fuck off and leave me alone. Every day since then had been weird and confusing and I hated it.

When I got home, Caelyx was sprawled out on the couch, his legs dangling over the arm. He pursed his lips, looking me over. At least he didn’t seem drunk this time.

“Well, now I feel overdressed,” he stated. “I didn’t know drowned rat chic was what we were going for this season.”

At least I was soaked from head to toe so he couldn’t tell I had come dripping down my thighs. “Fuck you,” I answered, but there wasn’t much conviction behind it. I was too exhausted, and my anger and frustration were directed somewhere else at the moment. “I’m taking a shower.”

“What, another one?” He asked, mock surprise coloring his irritating voice. Ignoring him, I grabbed a pair of shorts from my room and barricaded myself in the bathroom to try and wash my memory of the last week out of my head. I briefly considered hanging myself from the shower rod, but decided it was too melodramatic.

The first swim meet of the year was being held at some aquatic center a few towns over. The whole team took a bus to get there. The ride had been torture. At least the next one, which was supposed to be in January, was being held at a facility only a few minutes from BBU. I wouldn’t have to suffer for hours again.

As we stood around waiting for our events to start, Coach Larson lectured us for the billionth time about disqualifications. Butterfly couldn’t slip into an alternating kick, or it was DQ. If the backstrokers turned too early when they reached the wall, it was DQ. For breaststroke, you better hit the wall with both hands every time, or it was DQ. Of course, none of that applied to me because I was a freestyle swimmer. All those finicky little rules about strokes would have driven me insane.

A lot of people had friends or family members in the stands to cheer them on. I didn’t have anyone, since my dad had blown me off and I didn’t have anyone I considered enough of a friend to invite. The isolation and loneliness I’d been feeling in varying waves was sort of crushing. I hadn’t felt that way when I’d been hanging out with Ren, but… No, I didn’t really want to think about that yet.

Garrison, Ahmet, and O’Conner sauntered over to the bench I was sitting at, plopping down on either side of me. If I hadn’t known better, I would have been suspicious that they were all in some demented throuple or something. They were always up each others’ asses. And mine, for that matter. Figuratively. Only figuratively.

“Alright, Holmes. Fess up,” Ahmet said slyly, giving me an obnoxious look. “Who was it? Was it that hot Black chick you were talking to at the party?”

Hot Black chick? Had I even talked to a girl at the party? It took me a few moments to realize they were talking about Kelani. I nearly scoffed. She was cute, but even if I’d been interested, her dislike for me was obvious. For whatever reason.I’d meant to ask Ren about it, but I’d forgotten. And now I was pretty sure I could never talk to him again.

It had been almost a week since we’d gone on the boardwalk together. I’d skipped creative writing Wednesday and Friday, getting the assignments from some girl. I was pretty sure if I had to look him in the eyes, I’d just die on the spot. I was considering dropping the class altogether.

I’d waited all week for someone to bring it up to me. I figured word would spread pretty fast, even if I didn’t know that many people at the school yet. Even if they don’t know me, the idea of some guy jizzing his pants over pretty much nothing was probably interesting, right? But as of yet, everyone had been completely normal. But Ahmet’s question had me sweating a bit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

The three of them chuckled, Garrison elbowing me in the ribs playfully. I didn’t like being touched, particularly when we were all pretty much naked, our dicks barely covered by the regulation speedos we all wore, but I didn’t take it personally. They were always rough-housing with each other.

“Don’t play dumb, Holmes,” he teased, then gestured to my neck before giving it a solid poke. “Who’d you get that from?”

Oh, right.That.The splotchy hickey Ren had left on my neck like a horny middle-schooler. Not that I could really complain about it, since I’d obviously enjoyed it. I’d noticed it, but didn’t have a clue how to cover it. I’d considered going to Arie and asking him, since I was sure he’d have some ideas about some kind of makeup crap I could smear on it, but I was also pretty sure he’d laugh in my face if Ren had mentioned what had happened between us.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I answered. I couldn’t help but wonder how they’d react if I told them who I’d actually gotten it from. Then again, I knew how they’d react. I’d heard the way they talked about gay guys, especially ones they thought were tooflamboyant. If they found out I was into dudes (well, one dude) they’d probably get me kicked off the team. And then my dad would kick my ass. Definitely not worth it.

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Garrison chided me a bit, but I think he’d expected my answer. I’d never palled around with them.

Even after realizing I wasn’t going to brag about my apparent sexual conquest, they didn’t leave. They stayed, chatting about the events and some of the girls on the teams from other schools. I did my best to zone out and ignore them so I didn’t go insane, until O’Conner yanked me back into the conversation by saying my name.

“So how come you don’t ever hang out with us outside of practice, Holmes?”

I shrugged.I don’t like you guysseemed like too harsh of an answer, especially in the middle of a team-oriented event. One of the things my dad had drilled into my head was to keep the peace on the team. Never be the reason for disruption and disharmony for the team. Ignore any discomfort for the sake of the team.

“I just do my work and go home,” I said. “I don’t really do much outside of practice and class.”

---