After School Activities (7 page)

Instead of answering, though, Adam pulled off his shirt. Once again,

he was covered with bruises. Only this time they looked fresh.

“…Oh.” I racked my brain for something better to say but came up

blank. So I opened my dresser, pulled out my extra pair of pajama pants,

and handed them to Adam.

“What are these for?” He stared at them dumbly.

“I’m assuming you probably don’t want to go home right now. So

you will stay here.”

He raised his eyes to meet my gaze. He swallowed. “Thanks,” he

said weakly.

“Don’t mention it.” I turned my back deliberately so he could

change. I figured he’d appreciate a little privacy. After a second, I heard

the clothes-rustle sound of him changing. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep

on the floor.”

“No. I can’t kick you out of your own bed.”

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Dirk Hunter

“Well, I’m not going to let
you
sleep on the floor, not all bruised like that. Would you rather we share the bed?”

“I don’t mind.”

I turned around to give Adam the benefit of my incredulous stare,

but he was back to not looking at me. He seemed very vulnerable,

standing there in my red flannel pajama pants, staring listlessly at the

floor. And vulnerable was a word I
never
thought I’d be using in

conjunction with Adam. He clearly needed a hug, but we were shirtless,

and he still called me “fairy boy.” I wasn’t going to push my luck.

My bed wasn’t nearly as big as Kai’s, and I only had the one blanket,

so Adam and I were nestled in pretty close. Our arms were touching, and I

realized I was tensing, waiting for some reaction. Adam didn’t comment

on it, though, which surprised me. I couldn’t help but think of Kai who,

even with all we’d done together lately, would probably have taken me up

on my offer to have the bed to himself. Carefully, I relaxed, letting more

of our bodies—a hip, a leg—come into contact.

“Dylan?”

“What’s up?”

“I—” His voice cracked, and I realized he was holding back tears.

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Never mind.”

I waited a bit to see if he would continue. “It’s okay to cry,” I said

when he didn’t.

“That’s not what my dad would say,” he muttered. “Tears are for

queers.” He sounded bitter.

I fought back the urge to argue, remembering the intensity in

Adam’s voice that first night we had hung out.
I need you to know he’s a

good dad.
Instead, I reached under the blanket, found Adam’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. I meant it to be quick, comforting. But to my surprise,

Adam clung on tightly and didn’t let go. Eventually I fell asleep, our

fingers still intertwined.

THIS WAS becoming a habit of mine, needing a minute after waking up to

figure out what was going on. I had been dreaming I was a giant teddy

bear, and now that I was awake, I couldn’t shake the feeling I still was.

For starters, I was really very cozy, which I had always imagined was a

near-constant state for teddy bears. Then there was, of course, the arms

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After School Activities

that enfolded me, holding me against a broad, muscular chest, and the face

I could feel almost nuzzled in my hair. I felt squeezed, snuggled. Exactly

like a giant teddy bear.

That’s Adam
, I realized. Last night came back to me in a flash.
Poor
guy. He did just need a hug.
I really had to pee, but I didn’t want to move.

For one thing, I was comfortable—it felt nice to be held. For another, I

didn’t want to wake Adam. For a number of reasons. He’d obviously had a

rough night and could use a good night’s sleep. But perhaps more

pressing, I was a little worried about what would happen if he woke up

and realized what position we were in. By morning he could let me go and

wake up without feeling like his masculinity, or whatever, had been

compromised. At the very least, I could let him think he woke up first, that

I never noticed, and he could save face that way.

I checked the clock on my bedside table: 2:00 a.m. There was no

way my bladder was going to be denied that long. Slowly, gently, I started

to lift myself out of bed.

Immediately, Adam’s arms tightened, pulling me back to him.

“Adam,” I whispered, patting his arm lightly. “I have to get up.” He

only tightened his grip in response. I could tell by his breathing he was

definitely awake. His slow, steady breaths had turned rapid, even worried.

Like he’d woken from one nightmare into another. What was he afraid of?

That I would leave maybe? I mean, it made some sense: his dad had left

for weeks, apparently had come back just to beat him again; his mom was

in the hospital, and he was probably afraid she’d soon be gone for good. It

seemed a little silly—this was my room, after all; where, exactly, would I

go?—but I had woken from bad dreams unable to shake them too many

times myself. I knew how irrational one could be in that situation.

“I’m just heading to the bathroom.”

Still no response.

I sighed, annoyed. “Would you feel better if you came with?” I felt

him nod after only a brief hesitation, and he released me. I took him by the

hand and led him down the darkened hall to the bathroom, careful not to

make too much noise. My parents’ room was upstairs, so there wasn’t

much of a chance of waking them, but there was always the possibility one

of them had gone to the kitchen for a drink of water, or escaped to the

couch to avoid the other’s snores. I closed the bathroom door silently

behind us before turning on the light.

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Dirk Hunter

Adam leaned against the sink while I used the toilet. His arms were

wrapped around his chest, probably self-conscious of the bruises now that

the lights were on. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. He looked

sheepish standing there, and I almost laughed. It was like he had finally

woken up enough to feel embarrassed about not letting me out of his sight.

He peeked at me from the corner of his eye, saw me looking, and

immediately averted his eyes. When I went to wash my hands, I caught

him staring at me in the mirror, but if he noticed, he didn’t give any sign.

I led him back to my room. This time he took my hand, which I

thought was a little odd; he should already know the way back to my

room, even in the dark, and by now he had to be fully awake. But I didn’t

say anything. We crawled back into bed. I rolled over onto my side,

turning my back to him, expecting him to do the same. After all, he had to

feel a little awkward about all this, right? I certainly did. But he didn’t.

Instead, he wrapped his arms back around me, once again holding me to

him. Okay, now I started to feel a little bit weird about this whole thing.

For the first time, I thought that maybe this
hadn’t
been some middream teddy-bear grab. Maybe it had been deliberate, even the first time. But

why? Was he in that much need of comfort? And if so, should I be doing

something? I had no idea. What—hold him? Have him talk about his

feelings? Was there something he wanted from me?

A sinking feeling suddenly landed in my gut. What if this was all

some elaborate prank? It hardly seemed possible after all Adam and I had

gone through, the hours spent together, opening up. But then, I’d gone

through some pretty elaborate routines myself to make him look a fool.

What if he was doing the same to me? But if so, what was his endgame?

How was this supposed to play out? What was pretending to bare his soul

to me and holding me close at night supposed to accomplish? Unless….

Right then, Adam’s hand moved slightly across my chest. He

brushed my nipple lightly with his thumb. A jolt of electricity shot through

my spine at the contact. At first I was too stunned to think. Maybe it had

been accidental? But then, a moment later, he did it again. This time he

took a little more time, ran his thumb around my nipple, feeling it harden.

For a second I felt the tingling feeling of arousal.

But then I got mad. I was suddenly certain all of this was a trick,

some fucked-up, elaborate gaybaiting that would probably lead to him

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After School Activities

humiliating me in front of the entire school. I spun around in the bed to

face him, to tell him off and stop this fiasco. A thousand and one mean

things to say rose within me, but all of them died on my tongue when I

saw his face.

The ambient glow of the electronics in my room glinted off his

tearstained cheeks. I had no idea how long he had been crying

silently, but his entire face was moist. The hand I had raised to push

him away from me instead found its way to his cheek. I brushed away

tears with my thumb. In his eyes I saw a confused tangle of emotions,

each one seeming to struggle for dominance.

“He said it was my fault Dad left. Said if I wasn’t the way I was,

Dad would still be there. Then he punched me, over and over.” Adam

started to sob, his words broken up by gasping breaths. “But doesn’t he

know how hard I’ve tried…? My whole life I’ve tried…. I’ve never

done… anything… but I’ve always wanted… to….” With visible effort,

Adam pulled himself together, brought his breathing under control. “But it

hasn’t done any good. Nothing has changed. And I’m so tired of never

having what I want, of living every day in pain when nothing even comes

of it. I’m done pretending I don’t want it. I can’t. I want… I want….”

“What, Adam? What do you want?”

I felt Adam’s arms tighten around me, pulling me closer until our

whole bodies were touching, his face only a fraction of an inch from me.

“You,” he whispered. And then he was kissing me.

An instant of surprise, but then my body took over. My mouth

opened, and his tongue darted in. The kiss continued, deepening,

becoming more and more passionate. In seconds he was on top of me, his

weight pushing me deep into the bed, his cock rubbing against mine

through the fabric of our pajama pants. I wrapped my arms around him,

feeling the strong muscles of his shoulders ripple as he moved. I traced the

muscles down his back until I found the elastic waistband of his pants and

slipped my hands inside, grabbing the firmness of his ass and squeezing.

He moaned into my mouth. Longing to feel more of his body against

mine, I pulled his pants down below his ass.

Suddenly there was one less layer of fabric between us. Freed from

the confines of his underwear, I could feel the heavy weight of his balls on

my leg, the warmth of the head of his cock as it pushed past my pajama

pants and onto my abs. He broke away from the kiss, sitting up on his

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Dirk Hunter

knees long enough to tug off my own pants and boxers with such intensity

I could hear them rip. Then he was back on top of me, kissing me with

renewed energy and thrusting his hips against mine.

This was different from anything that had happened with Kai. It was

slower, more passionate. As our bodies rubbed against each other, our

hands explored every inch. This wasn’t about pleasure, though there was

plenty of that—it was about a need I could tell we both felt, a need to

press ourselves together so tightly we might just become one.

I have no idea how long this lasted. It could have been hours. Time

had lost all meaning; everything faded into the taste of Adam’s mouth and

the feel of his body. But eventually things started going faster, becoming

more frenzied. Our breath came in sharper, more ragged gasps between

kisses as we both climbed together toward climax. And when it happened

and our cum mingled together with the sweat on our pressed-together

bodies, he didn’t stop kissing me. The kisses became softer, more tender.

The need had passed, but the desire remained. And when even that was

done, we lay side by side, legs entwined and foreheads pressed together.

He stared deep into my eyes, playing idly with my hair, and I traced

designs on his bicep.

“You know,” Adam said, “I think this would be the perfect

moment… if it weren’t for the feeling of cum slowly drying on my

stomach.”

I laughed. Without breaking out of Adam’s grip, I kicked my

pants off my ankles, where they had been bunched since Adam had

pulled them down. I grabbed them and used them to wipe myself

clean. Then I started on Adam, beginning at his chest and working my

way slowly down until finally I got to his cock. I abandoned my

makeshift towel. I wanted to hold Adam in my hand.

Even flaccid, his dick was huge, long and fat. Wrapping my fingers

around his shaft, I felt it jump a little in response, which made me smile.

Adam’s eyes continued to bore into mine. His breath began to grow thick

and heavy. I started to stroke, slowly, delighting in the sensation of his soft cock in my hand, feeling it begin to grow hard again. I reached my other

hand down to cup his balls, which hung low, draped over his thigh. I felt

his hand move down my side to my hip, but there it hesitated. I grabbed

his wrist and brought it farther, until it rested on my cock. As if

emboldened by my permission, his hand began to explore my junk,