Page 106 of Plentywood
“And go where?” he asked. “This fucking blip on the map ain’t got no hotel, does it?”
“You can go home.”
He sat in a wooden rocking chair, his weight causing creaks to escape from the antique. “Jesus fuck! This shit is uncomfortable, baby. You live in this dump?”
“I live upstairs,” I replied.
“Good,” he said, standing up and grabbing his duffle bag. “Let’s go up. I’m showering and then we fuckin’.”
“No one is fucking,” I said.
Rocco unzipped his skinny jeans that looked like they’d been painted on his muscled legs, pushing them to his ankles, and whipped out his dick. He was rock solid and stroked the length back and forth. He cupped his balls with his free hand and leered at me.
“Someone is sucking this dick, baby,” he snarled, looking around the room exaggeratingly and licking his lips. “Being you is the only fag in here, I thinks it’s you.”
“You’re gross,” I said, stepping closer to him as my blood pressure pounded in my temples. “I have no idea what I saw in you all those wasted years.”
He gripped his boner and smirked some more. “What you saw was this huge cock, baby. No one rides your ass like I do. Admit it. You miss this hog.”
“The only hog is the one attached to that thing,” I corrected, bending over to grab his duffle bag so I could toss his ass out of my house.
His jeans were around his ankles, no underwear in sight, when the door burst open. Rocco jumped but didn’t hide his nakedness as he stood there peacocking with his huge erection in his hand.
“Hunt!” I gasped, standing straight after missing the handle of Rocco’s bag.
Hunter looked from me to Rocco, and then back again, and at least three more times before backing out the door like he thought he may have interrupted us doing something.
“Who the fuck are you?” Rocco hollered, waddling across the room while his ankles were secured in skinny jeans. “That’s right, pussy! You better run, asswipe!”
I pushed Rocco out the way and ran to the door, peering out in time to see Hunt getting into his Tahoe. He tore off androunded the corner, almost sliding off the icy road and running into the Johnson’s front yard.
I turned and faced Rocco. “You… you… asshole!” I screamed, forgetting to shut the door behind me. “Pull those ridiculous jeans up. Why are you even here?” I demanded.
“I’m here ‘cause we gonna be boyfriends again, baby,” he said. “You ain’t gotta live in this shitty town anymore. I’ll agree to live with ya and shit like that. We ain’t going to no family dinners or any shit like that, but we’ll shack up for sure. I’ll give it to ya all regular and shit. Ain’t that what you want?”
“You’re insane,” I hissed. “I don’t want to live with you, you fool. I have no idea what I saw in you for those three years that you fucking used me for sex.”
“You’re just forgettin’ how sweet this meat is, baby,” he snarled, working his still-erect cock. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll fuck you into the mattress.”
“Better yet,” I began. “Get out and find a mattress you can fuck instead.”
“I don’t think I like this new… this…” he hesitated as he formed words in his pea brain, waving his hands around in the air. “This… whatever this shitty ‘tude is, baby,” he snarled threateningly. “I drove overnight to come get you. You is coming back with me.”
“And youismistaken,” I declared. “You ignorant redneck.”
Rocco glared at me as his dick deflated. I’d only seen this look and behavior once before. That was when after two years of a quasiwhateverwe’d shared, I threatened to end it. He’d raised his fist to me that night but didn’t strike me, instead he decided to sweet talk me. His kindness convinced me he could change and one day love me, so I stayed.
“Your ass belongs to me, boy,” he raged, moving toward me as I retreated. “If I don’t get you, no one fucking gets you.”
“Come on, Rocco,” I pleaded, showing my palms as I soothed him. “You and I agreed to end this last May, remember? You let me leave because you didn’t want to be in a gay relationship.”
He stepped closer. “I changed my mind.”
“Well, to be honest with you,” I began. “I think it’s best we keep our agreement. You were right. We want different things now.”
I tried speaking to him in a calm and controlled manner. I hadn’t thought in a million years that I’d be dealing with him again after nearly seven months. Yes, he’d texted for weeks. Yes, his emails were becoming more angry, but that was from a distance. He’d eventually give up, I’d assumed.
“Youarecoming with me, Ben,” he stated. “You know you want me and I am finally giving into you. Wewilllive together and then youwillremember how much you like me being the man.”
