The Downlow Alpha (The Identity Crises Book 1) (11 page)

            
 
He was lightly snoring next to me, as I watched him. I was starting to have regrets over what we had just done, the ways I had let him touch me. I thought about him riding me, and had conflicting feelings. I remembered what they had said at bible camp, about God feeling it was an abomination for a man to lay with a man. But the other part of me sang in happiness, never having been made to feel so alive.

              Doubt filled me, as I wondered if I was making a mistake. I was so torn over what had happened. A part of myself filled with revulsion, and yet another part filled with excitement and desire. I wished I could just go back to before I had allowed myself to be touched by Cory. To before mom was sick, and home. Before, when everything made sense.

              I felt the bed move, and saw Cory was looking at me. He smiled at me sweetly, and I felt like a heel. Felt how unfair I was being to him, for letting him come over here when I wasn’t sure. Wasn’t ready. It must have been painted on my face, because his smile slowly vanished, replaced with a frown.

              "You are having regrets now," he half stated, half asked.

              I felt my stomach turning, knowing I had to answer. Unable to put sound to my feelings, I took the cowards route, and just nodded. His face got angry, but there was a sadness to his eyes as he spoke.

              "You know, you are not being fair to me. I never once forced anything on you. It was your idea for me to come over here tonight. You called me, remember?"

              He paused for a second, fighting to keep civil before speaking again, I think. I could see his hurt growing as he was speaking.

              "You know, I can tell you are a good man, have a good heart. That is what makes me so damned attracted to you. I find you so appealing, so handsome. And knowing how I feel…knowing from the other night when I showed you. I owe you an apology for that. You were down, and you were so attractive, our closeness made me act stupid, and let our hug turn into a kiss."

              "But you knew after that how I felt. And knowing that, you had a choice. You didn’t have to call me over here tonight. Hell, you could have called me over, and chose for us to just talk. But you sent me all the signals. Signals giving me the green light."

              "I don’t just sleep around. I am not a man whore. If you knew you were not ready to be with me, were not ready to commit to anything, you had no business calling me over. No business making it seem like you were as into me as I am into you. You know, it would be so easy to fall in love with you. This has all been a horrible mistake. I don’t sleep with anyone if I don’t think we have a chance at something real. You took advantage of me Aaron, and I am very hurt."

              His eyes were filled with tears, and I felt like a heel.

              I watched as he got up to go, gathering his clothes. I felt myself getting sick to my stomach, and knew I had to do something, make this right.

              "Cory, please wait a minute," I said pleadingly.

              He stopped and looked at me, hurt shining strong in his wet eyes. My heart broke seeing him like that, knowing I had caused this beautiful man this pain.

              "Cory, I am so confused. I am so damn attracted to you, everything about you. But my mind keeps telling me what we are doing is wrong. That God will hate me. That society will hate me even more than it already does now. And yet…"

              "I can't stop thinking about you, wanting to be around you, hear your voice, and feel your touch. I am so torn over all of this. And scared."

              His look softened as I spoke, and he came back over to the bed, and sat down next to me. I realized I had watched his cock swinging as he walked to the bed, thoughts of what he would taste like running through my head.

              "Aaron, I understand that sometimes it takes a lot of courage to be true to yourself. People want to judge you over things that are none of their business. I think some people are just so miserable about their lives, feeling pathetic and small, they have to find things about others to condemn and ridicule to make their own lives seem less shitty."

              "I actually feel bad for those people now," he continued. "I used to hate them, but the hate was only hurting me. So I put myself in their shoes, tried to understand from their perspective, so I could forgive them, and go on with spending my energy wisely, spending it being myself."

              "As for God judging us for being who we were born as, I don’t buy it for one minute. I don’t buy that God made us these imperfect beings, and had to send his son down here to be tortured and murdered just so his blood could cover us enough so God could look at us. That doesn’t make any sense if you think about it. I know something was gotten wrong when they wrote it down, meanings lost that were from that time period."

              "Think about it Aaron. Less than a century ago, a fag was a cigarette. Now it is used as a derisive term for us. Words change meanings quickly. I don’t know everything, but I do know this. My God doesn’t hate me for being me, doesn’t hate you for being you. My God is one of love, a God who sees our hearts for who we are and judges us based on our character, and how we choose to conduct ourselves with the other things living around us."

              "The God I know loves me very much just the way I am, and my God loves you too, appreciates your beautiful heart, your beautiful soul for being so caring."

              His words were so special, so meaningful to me. They hit some chord within me, resonating all of the desires I had always had. For a God who didn’t punish us for being what we were made to be. Who loved me despite all my frailties and flaws. Who appreciated that I tried to do what was right, and help others. I felt a new confidence forming in me. Confidence that God was exactly as Cory had said. Said with so much conviction, I knew he was right. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of me, as I smiled at him, nodding.

              He smiled back, and asked if we were okay.

              "We are better than okay. Thank you for being you. For knowing exactly the right thing to say, the right thing to do."

              He smiled and hugged me tight. As he held me close, I whispered in his ear.

              "There is just one more thing I am curious about."

              I felt his body stiffen, worrying over what doubts I may have left.

              "I am listening," he said.

              "I haven’t been able to quit wondering what you taste like, and the thought is consuming me. And turning me on."

              He laid back on the bed smiling, as my eyes were riveted to his manhood, calling to be touched. To be tasted. I bent over and opened my mouth, and as his salty taste filled my mouth, I marveled at how silky smooth his dick was as it slid into my mouth.

              Butterflies pulled at his stomach as he made his way to the classroom. Despite coming the day before so he would know where he was going, the idea of going to college was still a bit daunting. Just a few months ago, he had been one of the older kids. Not that it had really mattered all that much. Some of the younger kids at the high school had still picked on him, targeting him for not being a macho prick, as he liked to think of the normal shenanigans the typical high school boy considered cool.

              But that was all going to be behind him now, he thought with relish as he caught sight of his classroom and made his way to it. Now he was intermingling with adults, who didn’t take pleasure in others pain. Although, he noted with a bit of discomfort, many of the young women were still dressed very provocatively. He subconsciously shook his head in disgust, hating the way women used their sexuality to tantalize men into being brainless idiots.

              If it had not been for his best friend in high school, Michelle, he would have thought all women were just shallow and incapable of any deep, meaningful thought. But a part of him had always wondered. Wondered if she had been beautiful by society's standards if she too would have been just as shallow.

              Always complaining about how her handsome, from a financially well off family, treated her badly. Always lying saying how she wished she could find a sensitive man who thought past his penis, yet always overlooking the guys like him who surrounded her day in and day out. Always complaining about being desired solely as a sex object, all the while wearing pants so tight it looked like they were painted on. Wearing those bra's that make her breasts the center of attention.

              Yeah, I have no sympathy for any of them when they start whining about how their super jock, super wealthy boyfriends treat them. An image of one of the cheerleaders from high school flashed briefly in his mind, as she evoked sympathy for her black eye she had gotten at the hands of the star running back of the football team. He felt the familiar feel of satisfaction rush through him, as he remembered her complaining in one breath how wrong her boyfriend was, and then later that day excited they had worked things out and were going to some party the next weekend.

              Shallow bitch, he thought to himself. He remembered her taunts he had endured since middle school, the way she egged on the alpha males, encouraging them when they called him names, hit him. Yeah, he had taken pleasure at seeing her black eye. Taken pleasure in the fact she was so shallow she had learnt nothing from the black eye, and would be going back for seconds.

              He was jarred from his thoughts as his body made contact with an immovable force, knocking his books from his hands onto the floor.

              "Watch where you're going, faggot," the familiar voice said. He looked at the man whom he had collided with, and saw the familiar sneer in the aftermath of the insult. The look that said, I am your better, and don’t you forget it. The tone that was filled with derision. He didn’t know him personally, but that look and tone was an all to familiar one.

              He quickly looked away, as he saw the man looking for a way to escalate this, looking for any excuse at all as bullies normally do when they smell weakness. He felt the anger welling up as he stooped to start picking up his books.

              "Here, let me give you a hand with that," he heard the deep voice say, the kindness in it declaring the offer was genuine. He paused and looked up, and felt himself fill with warmth as his eyes took in the rugged features of the man who offered to help.

              He had high cheekbones that accentuated his dark, friendly eyes. His hair was wavy, and well kept. He quickly noted the man had thick, sensuous lips, and as his eyes drifted down to assess the rest of him, saw that the man spent time at the gym. He felt a thrill rush through him at finding one of the rare men who were able to work on being awesome without inflating an ego to match. Probably an age thing, he thought. The young man appeared to be just a couple of years older, maybe even twenty one.

              The man smiled at him as they finished picking up the books, and Byron found himself pulled to the smile. Found himself smiling back at the warmth in the man's eyes.

              "Thank you," he said, as his mind scrambled for a way to keep this moment alive, to stop it from ending so he could get to know more about this handsome enigma handing him his books.

              "Anytime," the handsome man said, and Byron realized he was staring into his eyes, and despite becoming self-conscious about it, found he could not look away. The man was not looking away either, and Byron was being pulled into the dark swirls cascading in the man's eyes,

              "My name is Michael, Michael Cordova," he said, as he extended his hand to me. I adjusted my books quickly, tucking them against my side so I could free my hand to shake his. I felt my excitement grow as out hands clasped, noting that despite how muscular he is, he wasn’t trying to crush my hand and show off. His grip was firm, yet non obtrusive. He didn’t know it, but he just raised a few more notches in my impressed by book.

              "Hi Michael, it is nice to meet you. I am Byron Essigs. I really appreciate your help. Some people can be real jerks." I looked around before finishing the last part, making sure the guy was gone.

              Michael laughed, and I warmed at the sound of his laugh. Warmed that I had caused it.

              "We better get going so we are not late for class," he said, as he tugged his arm. I realized I was still holding his hand, and embarrassment flushed through me. I quickly let go as I nodded agreement.

              "I will see you around," I said, instantly regretting it as I saw he was heading into the same classroom I was, Writing 102. I was being to obvious, I said as I kicked myself. I was going to scare him off in my desperation for a friend if I didn’t cool it, my mind was saying.

              He laughed as he gestured for me to go in first, and I was glad as it gave me a second once he couldn’t see my face to get rid of the red I was sure was tinging my cheeks. I hurried to the back of the classroom, taking a seat. I felt anticipation fill me as I realized he was following me, instead of sitting in one of the open seats in the front. I was elated when he took the vacant seat next to me.

              For the next hour, class seemed to drag on as I snuck peeks at Michael. I found myself attracted to him in a way that was bordering being smitten. Unlike a lot of guys, I was secure in my sexuality. Didn’t feel something was wrong with being attracted to someone of the same sexual persuasion. I had read somewhere (I think it was a Harvard study) that it was actually common for people to find themselves attracted to people of the same sex. That despite people's aversion to admitting it for cultural reasons, everyone at one time or another has found themselves attracted sexually to another of the same gender.

              Truthfully, I found men to be more appealing than women, although I had never acted on it. I had never seen an opportunity to. I was picked on enough in school for not being an overbearing jerk. There was no way I was going to add another reason to be violated to the Neanderthals I always seemed surrounded by.

              But I always knew I found men to be more appealing. Even the few times I had seen straight porn, it was the man's genitalia that excited me, that my eyes were riveted too.

              The professor was wrapping up his introduction on how to form research questions, when I realized Michael was trying to get my attention. I looked over and he had a note in his hand that he tossed onto my desk as soon as he saw he had my attention. Excitement accelerated through me as I quickly opened it.

              Going to a party on Friday night. If you want to come, give me a call and we can set up the details. My number is 901-3628. Michael.

              I looked at him quickly, and nodded my desire to go.