Kyre's Long Day

KYRE'S LONG DAY

or

Bitch on Wheels

Author: Tetrakun (tetrakun at gmail dot com)

All characters within this fictional story are my own original creations, and may not be used without my permission. Also, it'd be nice if you didn't reproduce my story and claim it as your own. Thanks!

CHAPTER ONE

"Uuuuahhhhhh!"

I woke up that morning with a spirited yawn, before I was truly even aware of being awake. Squinting at the sunlight pouring in from the window, I took in my surroundings, barely aware of where I was for a moment. I was looking up at a poster on the ceiling of an attractive young Japanese boy, maybe 13 or 14, dressed in rather provocative clothing and look askance over his shoulder at the photographer, flirtatious evil in his eyes. Always a nice thing to look at when you wake up, I thought to myself, what a nice idea it was to put that up. Looking around now as my eyes adjusted, I took in a small but pleasantly furnished room, oblong in shape, with a desk and computer in one corner, a small couch to the side, and my own bed under the window. A somewhat unfamiliar room, but as it turns out, it happened to be mine.

I swung my legs out over the side of the bed, and yawned again before hopping to my feet. Yep, this was my room at the moment, my new room anyway. I scratched my back lightly and walked over to my closet, opening it and automatically grabbing some jean cut-offs that would be scandalously short for most 14-year-old boys to wear, and a nice tight button-down number to show of my boy-hips. The way I figure it, if you've got a pretty figure, even if you're a guy, you might as well show it off while you can. I pulled my clothes on and bolted to the bathroom across the hall to finish the morning ritual. You know, shower, moisturizer, blowdrying, that sort of thing. Inspecting myself in the full-length mirror, I was rather pleased. My hair was a good length right now, strawberry-blonde and falling to the nape of my neck, a little unruly but nice. A nice face with sharp cheekbones, little blunt nose, and blue-ish grey eyes. Hmmmm. Upon closer inspection, I noticed an out of place eyebrow hair and plucked it with a grimace. Admittedly, I am a rather good-looking boy, and certainly not afraid of indulging my vanity here. I take pride in accentuating it as much as possible, just as a matter of personal preference. The world doesn't have enough girly boys, and I figure, why not take advantage of having barely started puberty at this age.

With a flip of my hair and a little grin at myself in the mirror, I was out the door and on my bike, waving goodbye to my "parents", glancing back as they shouted things about breakfast and whether I was done with all my homework. Oh well, I thought, a boy's gotta have his priorities. I've had new parents ever since mine died about two years ago. Doesn't bother me except for the fact that I had to move. So I'm way the fuck down here in suburban SoCal, as opposed to the lovely and culturally relevant New York City. Not that I'm complaining, as living down here has been a much improved situation, in many ways.

Hastily peddling to school, I plucked my cell phone out of my pocket and checked the time. Quarter of. Damn, I thought. I'm gonna miss homeroom if I'm not careful, and given that my homeroom teacher is already a creep and thinks I'm a loser, I'd better be careful. I raced into the bike port and locked it up, running into the glass and metal building at top speed. My school's one of those modern-art jobs, all cubes and right angles, as if your average kid had the slightest appreciation for such things. I continued a steady jog, even as I caught a glare from a passing teacher, and approached my homeroom. My cell phone said I was on time, but as I stumbled in Mr. Nagram looked up at me coolly from behind his desk behind his spectacles.

"Ahh, if it isn't Kyre, here at last. You know, you were close this time, but still, 32 seconds late." He had on the smuggest smile, that sonofabitch.

"I'm sorry sir," I said with admirable restraint. "It won't happen again." I could feel the gaze of the class watching me, silently snickering and enjoying the hell out of this.

"I know it won't, Kyre, because this time you're getting 3 hours of detention after school. This is the fifth time you've been late this week, do you know that? We've got to do something about this unfortunate trend."

The real tough thing was that Nagram was cute; hot, even. He was only 26, easily my youngest teacher, and had a certain air about him. He had dark eyes, jet-black hair he kept clipped above his ears, a sharp nose, and a surprisingly soft and sensuous mouth when he wasn't using it to publicly humiliate me. He had damned good taste in clothes too, nice shirts and his pants fit. The guy had to be gay, I knew it, and I was sure that part of this whole game between us had something to do with the ENORMOUS crush he had on me. Because, honestly, even straight guys have been known to crush on me.

"Right," I told him as I sashayed to the back of my room to my desk, swinging my hips and sticking my butt out a bit as I did so. "The trend," I turned back to look at him and sat down at my desk with a smirk of my own, "Will be reversed. I look forward to seeing you later today, Mr. Nagram." I let those last words pour out my mouth like honey, and licked my lips as I smiled up at him. To my delight he swallowed hard, and then continued onward with role call and notes for the day. I just sat back in my desk, crossed my legs, and looked forward to how I could torture him in detention later today for trying to torture me.

After homeroom was over, I had to go to math. Math, yuck! And I had a double-period of it on Friday, two goddamn hours of math. The worst thing about math, for me, other than the numbers, is that there are absolutely NO cute boys in my math class! This is a private school and there's all of 100 kids in my grade, and lots of classes. So like, my math class has 15 people in it and out of some horrific fluke of scheduling, my worst subject happened to include 12 girls, and the other two boys? Not. Cute. Now, I don't mean to be shallow, but if I'm gonna be in school I wanna be looking at cute boys, at least. So for the purposes of this story, we'll forget about math, as it's not really pertinent to much of anything.

Now luckily, something happened after math, and before my next period, that IS pertinent to this story. I caught sight of my gorgeous little sixth-grade crush in the hallway, walking with a friend of his in a baseball cap. His name's Trin, and he's just both ridiculously adorable and sexy. Words really can't do it justice, but I'll make an effort anyway: UNBELIEVABLY GORGEOUS! Can't get a good enough picture out of that? Well, he has that sort of soft, rounded boy-ish face that manages to be utterly androgynous. His little button of a nose was dotted with freckles from the sun, and his hair matched, feathery and dark brown with yellow sun-streaks. He had narrow shoulders, but slightly wide hips that framed a gorgeous bubble-butt barely contained by his belted cutoff-khakis. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and an arm around the shoulder of his friend, as he laughed gleefully in his ear about something or other. When he caught sight of me, he broke into a wide grin.

"KYRE! Omigod, it's great to see you!" He was still right up close to his little friend, they were so cute together. "What are you doing after school?!" Aw, shit.

"I have detention..." I rolled my eyes. "Mr. Nagram believes that I don't have sufficient respect for his proud institution of homeroom."

"Well, that blows!" Trin shrugged. "Me and Jaime were gonna go play catch afterwards and ride bikes, hang out, you know... but I guess you can't come. Anyway, bye!" The little tease just walked away after that. I should probably tell you that we already made out once under the bleachers at the basketball game, but that was three days ago and it only served to make me more desperate for his attention. There're plenty of kids worth lusting after here, but Trin's special, for sure. Just then I noticed a couple passing girls giggling insanely as they walked by, glancing down at my crotch, where I had a very evident hard-on from chatting with Trin.

"Ah, fuck..." I muttered, trying to re-situate my garments while I faced my locker and hoped nobody was watching. Turns out it was all for naught, though, as I heard a rather distinctive voice behind me begin to proclaim loudly:

"Well well well, if it isn't little Kyre! The only boy in school who dresses so girly that when he gets wood everyone knows about it. How goes your penis on this fine day, Kyre?" I turned around to see a tall, well-dressed handsome boy standing in front of me, hands upon his hips, the trace of a smile that still lingered on his lips.

"Ya know what, Jonny, you can straight to hell. Straight to hell." I stuck my hands in my pockets and pouted up at him. "Trin was teasing me, it really wasn't cool."

"Oh, well that's different," he said. "Lord knows I wouldn't want to discourage you from pursuing shallow sexual encounters with pre-pubescent boys!" Jonny was just jealous because he wanted me all to himself. He's my best friend, but we prefer to use the term 'fuckdoll' whilst being intimate with one another. We lost our virginity to one another about a year ago, and never stopped hanging out since.

Sometimes we like to have sex, sometimes we like to wrestle and fight, and sometimes we like to cuddle. We don't attach any specific meaning beyond physical affection to these activities; I believe this is a byproduct of our generation's ability to detach emotionally from such matters. Our parents have hangups about their hangups when it comes to these things.

"Hey, he's the one teasing me, don't forget," I told him. "And you shouldn't be talking, honestly. AND we're gonna be late for social studies, so we gotta move our asses." Jonny and I had social studies and English together, thankfully. My two best subjects.

"Hey, Kyre," He said to me softly as we walked. "Meet me in the bathroom after class, the usual one, and we'll start off the first ten minutes of lunch the right way." I smiled over at him. I could always count on Jonny to relieve a bit of tension in the middle of the day. I know it sounds gross, having sex in a bathroom, but a couple things. We never go all the way at school, for one, and the bathrooms are actually nice given how expensive this damn place is, for another. They're private and actually have locking doors, in addition to being cleaned every day. Perfect for the occasional quickie!

I somehow struggled through the class, with Jonny giving me the occasional look. He's a damn good looking kid, and to be honest, we go well together, at least visually. I've got the femmy build and the long hair, he's got the dark and dreamy appeal. The girls really go after him, they all think he's "cool" and stuff. He's even an athlete, star lacrosse player, AND he plays the guitar. I know, right? I'm lucky that his interests lie elsewhere, 'cause he'd be hard to get. Anyway, we did our usual super-secret routine with the bathroom, with him going in 90 seconds before me. Those 90 seconds are always the hardest to wait. I walked casuall down the hall and went into the bathroom normally, the door having just been unlocked, and quickly closed and re- locked it behind me. I could barely turn around before Jonny was enveloping me, pushing me up against the wall, covering my face with kisses.

"Whoa whoa!" I managed, "Someone's feeling antsy," I said, before he shut me up with an open-mouthed kiss that took some time.

"Sorry, but I bet it's been a rougher morning for me than for you," he said after breaking away for a moment. He wrapped his arms around my hips and pulled me in, and I did the same to him; we could both feel our growing erections pressing against one another.

"Well, you probably need it more than me, so I'll be noble..."

"Damn right you will," Jonny said with a wink.

"Hey, hey I'm doing you a favor, here and I expect recompense, ya hear?" I grinned at him, giving his butt a squeeze.

"Fine, fine, just quit the talk and put that mouth of yours to some actual use."

"Oh, you think you're so witty, don't you?" I pushed him back, to the sink- counter, and he hopped up on it. I bent over him and glanced up, batting my eyebrows flirtatiously as I undid his fly, taking out his cock which was quite erect at this moment. It's a nice cock, circumcized, about 5 inches with a small shock of dark curly hair over it. Slightly bigger than my own, which was, unfortunately, feeling somewhat sad and neglected at the moment. I started slowly, licking up and down the sensitive underside, sucking the very tip in between my lips to give it a little kiss, causing Jonny to shudder and drops of pre-cum to bead on the tip, drops that I promptly licked up.

I started to jerk him off then, grinning up at him dumbly, doing my best porn star impression. "Mmmm, I wanna deep-throat your cock SO BAD, Jonny, it's so HAAAAAARRRDDD!" I promptly did so, getting his whole dick into my mouth and to the back of my throat the first time, a practice that I have perfected as of late. I drew back and started to seriously go down on him, bobbing up and down on him for a while, doing my best to tease and work him to a climax with my tongue. Jonny's breathing was getting more and more labored now, and he looked down at me now and started to say something before I caused him to stop and gasp by using my tongue in a rather original manner. I stop sucking him off for a moment then, and went back to absent-mindedly working him up and down with my left hand, as I looked up questioningly at what he had to say now.

"Ohhhh, Kyre, I think I'm going to cum soon, I'm..." Apparently the steady masturbation was working a little too well, and this was an issue because at school it is important to leave no evidence, which means all that cum's gonna end up in my mouth. Really, there are other ways of disposing of evidence, but this one's my favorite. So Jonny's back started to arch, and I tried to get my mouth onto his squirting penis in time, but I was a bit too late. The first shot hit the collar of my shirt, and the second landed squarely on my nose and cheek before I could stop the flow. The last of the cum went harmlessly into my throat and was promptly swallowed, but the damage was done.

"You bastard!" I said. "You came on me!" Jonny was laughing, too, and to be honest it was a bit funny. Just not to me, right now. "This shit's obvious, someone could figure it out! Jonny was zipping his pants up now, and I was wiping the cum off my face with toilet paper, and trying to get the stain out my shirt.

"Well, it's a risk you take," he said, like an asshole. And I still needed some release of my own! None of this was the slightest bit fair. He was washing his own face off, fixing his hair in the mirror, checking his own pants for cum stains, of which there were none. "Alright Kyre, gotta go off to lunch, thanks a million man, really. I will get you back for this."

"Ah, get the hell out of my sight," I said, still focused on cleaning my shirt. "I even have fucking detention today, you know that?"

Jonny snickered. "Yeah, with the cute teacher."

"Surely you mean the asshole teacher?" I said with a grimace. I had done all I could, and it was now just a dark spot, maybe a tiny bit noticeable.

"Yeah, whatever. See you later, Kyre!" He walked out the door first, meaning I had another 90 seconds to wait. Sigh. I briefly considered just masturbating myself in the bathroom, but it was no use. It'd have been suspicious to be occupied so long, and besides, I wasn't in the mood for lonely satisfaction. Instead, I used the 90 seconds for a brief spell of transcendental meditation, getting up and walking out the door with what amounted to a fairly phony smile on my face. I rather hoped the second half of the day would prove to be better than the first.

CHAPTER TWO

Lunch wasn't anything interesting, really. I was feeling kind of pissed at Jonny, and so wound up sitting off by myself in the courtyard, eating alone, and wearing a pair of mirrored shades on my face as well as what I hoped was a seriously mean scowl. Honestly, what kind of friend ejaculates on your face, makes fun of you, and doesn't reciprocate? I was shaking my head and mulling over the many such injustices I'd experienced in my admittedly short life, when I heard a lisping, nerdy voice behind me. Ah, I thought, Bryan.

"Hey Kyre, what're you doing? Jutht thitting by yourthelf?" A rather short boy with very light, mussy blond hair sat down next to me. He wore a pair of slightly oversized spectacles that made his blue eyes seem a bit larger than they actually were, as well some absurd clothes I honestly hoped his mother made him wear every day. Bryan's a grade below me, and actually a very cool kid, individualistic, doesn't give a fuck what other people think. He's also really cute, or would be if you got those glasses off his face, combed his damn hair, and dressed him in something other than what must be 1950s Catholic schoolboy clothing.

"Yeth Bryan, I'm thitting," I told him, with a sarcastic grin. I'm usually not mean to him like that, but what can I say, it had been a shitty day.

"Thtop it," he said, "My thpeech therapitht told me it'd be gone thoon." His lower lip was quivering a bit. Goddamit, I thought, the kid's so damn sensitive.

"Hey, sorry, didn't mean to upset you, Bryan." I tried to give him a smile, and realizing that this wasn't working, more or less threw myself into the boy's arms for a hug. I'm a little bigger than him so it was a little overwhelming, and it turned into more of a tackle on the grass, but I think he appreciated it. Sitting up, he adjusted his glasses which had been knocked askew.

"You're in a weird mood, Kyre," he told me pointedly, with an air of quiet expertise.

"Well, aren't you the smart one," I told him, still lying back on the grass, staring up at the sky and the trees.

"I wath jutht gonna tell you that we were all gonna thtart a new AD&D campaign today, if you wanted to come..." Goddamn. More invitations to hang out with boys I had a crush on. Not that I had a crush on Bryan, I mean, I wouldn't object to spending time with him, or having fun with him, but it's hard to think of him that way. He's almost asexual. He could be gay, he could be straight, he could just wind up being nothing. But it's another boy in his little 7th-grade geek-group. Kid looks EXACTLY like the Harry Potter from those flicks, c. the second movie, maybe. Truly a sight to see, seducing him had been on my list of priorities for a while. Whether that kid likes boys or not doesn't matter, I'll just tell him I'm really a girl or something, 7th grade geeks will believe more or less anything.

"I have detention, Bryan." I said mechanically, still on my back. I lifted one hand up and made a shooing motion with it. "Leave me in peace."

"You're thooooo weird, Kyre," Bryan walked off. I often wondered about that boy, and why he hung out with me. Probably because he was just in love with me; that had to be it. Again, I realize I come off as awfully full of myself on occasion, but I assure you it's warranted. I mean, I spend three times as much time and effort on my appearance as most of the girls at my school. Half of 'em were fat, too, ugh. You'd think they'd all take more pride in being the more naturally gifted of the sexes in terms of ease of beauty, but some of them clearly missed the boat completely when it came to that. Of course, there were some terribly good-looking girls whom I actually quite envied at times, and took quiet fashion and appearance tips from. One in particular, Rachel, was very cool, and sort of my faghag, a term I admit that I detest. I consider Jonny my number 1 faghag, anyway. Considered. Asshole.

Lunch was over, and I had three more hours of classes to go before I had my detention. Ugh. French, English, Science. School can be so oppressively boring and never-ending when you have nothing to really look forward to afterwards. Three hours becomes six hours, which feels like it could be nine hours which may as well be nine YEARS for as long as it's gonna take. Sigh.

"Bonjour, Kyre! Pourquoi êtes-vous en retard?" Ugh, I hate my French teacher. She wears too much makeup, dyes her hair, and probably lies maliciously about her age. God save us all from French teachers who are sixty but claim to be 45.

"Je suis desolee Madame, je n'ai pas su le temps." She ignored me after that, went on teaching the damn lesson while I scribbled drawings of penises on my notebook paper. I'd gotten the idea from watching Superbad, and honestly, there was something fun and satisfying about drawing an uncircumcized dick with a cape, flying through a city-scape. Superbad, now there was a gay movie, if you ask me. The whole thing was ultimately about the two guys being in love with each other! I thought the ending was touching. Not that they're terribly cute, although I admit to crushing slightly on Michael Cera, but it's nice to see latent homosexuality get its due in terms of the teen comedy.

Anyway, after French was spent fantasizing about SuperPenis, I trudged down the hall to Nagram's English, on time for once. Just to make it clear about Nagram, I almost positive the dude is a perv of the highest order. I'm not even kidding, not only does he take sadistic glee in punishing me at every possible turn, but the dude ogles me. I guess, maybe, to some small degree I put him in difficult circumstances at times, but honestly, I can't be blamed for that. He's the responsible adult.

So, naturally, I sat in the front row and sat with my legs splayed open, slouched down in my desk till I was sitting on my lower back, and had my butt essentially exposed. One of the nice things about wearing skintight cutoffs, other than showing off your amazingly perfect thighs, is the ability to show off more of your amazingly perfect ass than you might otherwise normally would be able to. In this case, it worked perfectly, as I saw Nagram's eyes drift downwards before he was about to start the class, and a flush of red began to creep up the side of his face slowly as he looked up at my face, finding me looking right at him with a shit-eating grin plastered on my face.

"Sit up straight," he ordered firmly, playin' his little charade. "Now."

"Yes, sir." I straightened up as told, but kept right on smiling. It's a little trick I learned, if you don't allow people in authority to make you feel bad, you can actually make THEM feel bad sometimes. Cool, huh? I've experimented with that a bunch on a number of parents, and trust me, it drives them all utterly insane.

Nagram went right on teaching the lesson as if nothing had happened, and I studiously took notes, like a good li'l boy. We were reading The Lord of the Flies at the moment, and I for one enjoyed it quite a bit. Bunch of boys stuck on a deserted island, nothing to do? Sure, sign me up. The novel itself even had some fairly sexually charged scenes, the writer clearly being aware that a hundred adolescent boys, stranded by themselves, might have some issues to work through. I did a good job, I thought, of holding my tongue and not charging the literary analysis with endless homoerotic content today. Besides, Nagram didn't need anymore teasing. I already had a little plan going in my head for a way to make detention more interesting. Maybe get out early. Maybe never get detention again from the guy, AND maybe get straight A's for the rest of the year. I think that's the way it's supposed to go, anyway, based on the movies I've seen. I don't really have anything else to go by, being that I'm a bit of a newbie at seducing perverted teachers; still, it's not exactly rocket science, is it? I think there's a quote from a Kevin Smith flick about pleasing men: insert somewhere, preferably moist, thrust, repeat. I expect some variation on that will get the job done, and a little sonofabitch like that can't be all THAT well-endowed, or he probably wouldn't spend time hitting on and consequently being humiliated by slutty young lads like myself.

Before I knew it, English was over. Figures that the only class I like always seems to take no time at all. Maybe there's something to that? Anyway, Nagram reminded me to be back at 3:15, and I had to nod happily like a fuckin' schmuck and continue on my way. I'll be damned if I'll surrender the slightest psychological edge to that guy; it just wouldn't be conducive to my goals at the moment.

I saw Trin again after English. I swear, when he walks by, dreamy pop music plays, the entire room goes dark, and spotlights come down on just us, illuminating our faces, framing them in a halo's glow; everything turns into slow-motion, and it's like I'm looking at a soft-focus close-up of his angelic countenance, for a moment.

SNAP

Then I'm back to reality, standing in front of my goddamn locker, and taking out my Biology book. Trin's heading to his last class, and he'll go hang out with his little buddy, and they'll grow even closer. I hate the jealous part of me; I only feel jealous when I encounter a boy I feel strongly about, and it usually goes away. Normally, I'm shallow enough that I could care less about most people I see. It's a character flaw, you see, but it's also a survival mechanism. Keep everything shallow and meaningless and you can't get hurt. Let people grow close and they break your heart. Or maybe they just use you for a quick BJ in the bathroom, and leave you hangin'. I really had to do something about that, fucker's gotta pay.

But first, I had to go to Biology. Ugh, I hate biology.

CHAPTER THREE

Well, I'm back from Bio, and d'you know what? It wasn't a waste of time, it was like, the best class I've had all day, seriously. I wish all classes could have been as awesome as that one today. We've been preparing oral reports for a while now to give today on various functioning systems in the human body, and each report takes ten minutes. So you see, in an hour-long class only about half the class could go, and I wasn't on the list. I'd totally forgotten that I didn't have to give the report! We were all supposed to take notes, but luckily, I sat in the back and slept literally for the entire period. Put my head down, fell asleep, woke up and class was over in no time! I think I pulled it off covertly, I mean, nobody talked to me about it so I guess it's cool. Sort of hard to tell how much attention you're being paid while asleep. I know all that crap about the human body anyway, it's not like I needed to listen to other bored kids drone on monotonously. The way I see it, I used the time far more productively than everyone else.

Feeling nice and refreshed for my detention, I went back to my locker to pack things up for the day. I highly recommend acquiring a cute backpack, for whatever reason, it helps make school go by easier. I love my pack, I special ordered it from Japan, and it's got all sorts of crazy engrish phrases and graffiti art. Black with lots of pink and purple on it, very punk rock if I may so.

I closed up my locker and leaned back on it, taking multiple plans of attack into consideration for the detention. I twisted a lock of hair back and forth around my finger, cogitating rather deeply. It was important not to fuck this up. Did I want to be straightforward? Or maybe I should screw around with the jerk a little bit. I couldn't help but think that my judgment was being affected by feeling particularly horny today. Ah well. I watched the exodus of happy, smiling kids running for the doors, anxious to get outside and have fun, and I decided that it was imperative I make sure I never get detention from this guy again. Jaw set, I marched back to the English room.

"Hello there, Mr. Nagram. Or should I call you John, I think I'll do that," I blared, basically as loudly as I could. I strode purposefully into the room, dropped my pack next to a desk, and flopped down into it heavily.

"You can't call me John, I'm your teacher and that wouldn't be appropriate. Take out your notebook, you'll be writing an essay for me today." He frowned at me, and probably also at my general inclination to make as much noise as possible in order to announce my presence when entering a room.

"Please sir, you know that I'm no good at wanking essays," I said in my most sweet and solicitous of voices, smiling at him.

"Writing, you mean? And you're a perfectly good writer, you just never apply yourself." He was already starting to lose his cool again, excellent.

"That's what I said, writing. What did you think I said, Sir? Anyway, I guess I have no choice but to do whatever you want me to." I took out my paper, with a fake and heavy sigh. "What does the cock say right now? How much time I do I have?"

"Er, you have three hours... Write a, uh, about something... About the importance of punctuality and re-responsibility." Nagram was looking really hilarious now. Sweat had started to bead on his forehead, and he swallowed hard. I think I actually convinced him that he was hearing things.

Like a good little boy I took out my pencil and began to write diligently. "Oh, gosh darn!" I said aloud. "My pencil needs sharpening. Sir, may I go sharpen it?"

"Er, yes of course." Nagram was grading papers or something like that now, giving off an air of being very busy. I got up and started to walk slowly across the room, catching out of the corner of my eye that I was, in fact, being watched. I let the pencil slip out of my hand and clatter to the floor. I arched my back in an exaggerated motion, and stuck my butt way up in the air and in the direction of the teacher as I bent down to pick the pencil up, taking my exceedingly sweet time as I did so.

To be honest, I don't really know quite how exposed my butt is in these shorts since I only just made them from a pair of girls' jeans last week, but I think he must have gotten a pretty good view. I continued across the room, using the hip-wiggling walk I'd picked up from women on TV shows, and got to the pencil sharpener. One of those old-fashioned hand-crank jobs. I stuck the tip in the hole, and pumped up and down on the handle, slowly, even breathing a little heavily as I did so. It's remarkable how one can charge the most mundane acts with sexual tension, if one so desires.

I could see that Nagram hadn't made any progress with his essays in the last minute, and was watching me open-mouthed. He actually looked kinda silly, sitting there. Poor guy seemed so helpless! A twinge of regret concerning what I was doing started to cross my mind, but I dismissed it quickly and accurately as abject foolishness. I strutted back to my desk and reseated myself, razor-sharp graphite in hand, and began to write. Contrary to what I said before, I am fairly decent at writing essays if I care the slightest bit about the content in them. Luckily, I didn't intend on turning this essay on, so it didn't really matter that I was detailing lists of the cutest boys I know and the cutest celebrity boys in sequential order of sexiness. What was important was that for the sake of appearances, I was being a good little boy, and it was giving the perv more time to get all hot and bothered. He was still checking me out, like always in class, guy's eyes are just drawn to me like a magnet when I'm in the room. I decided after about twenty minutes that screw it, this charade was getting absurd. I looked up and caught one of his little stolen glances.

"Why do you keep looking at me, sir?" I spoke in my huskiest voice. "Is there something you want to... tell me?" I batted my eyelashes curiously, and privately wondered if this was enough of an open invitation.

Turns out it was.

"YES! For the love of all that is holy, Kyre, there's something I need to tell you. To be quite frank though, I can't tell you what it is without getting thrown into prison, or at the very least, hell." The dude was looking around the room like the FBI was after him, and he actually got up and raced around the entire place, drawing all the blinds closed on the windows, and the window on the door. Then he locked the door.

"Isn't that like a really suspicious thing to do?" I asked, because it's just difficult for me not to be a smartass.

"Yeah, well, that's a risk we're taking at this point." Nagram mopped his brow with the back of his hand, sitting back down in his chair behind the desk. He really was a good-looking guy, I had to say.

He reminded me of that guy on Buffy, the smoldering angsty one who got his own show? Yeah, you know who I mean, like him if he were a skinny English teacher. He wasn't saying anything, so I supposed he must have been waiting for me to spell things out.

"Soooo," I began, "You needed to tell me that you find incredibly enticing? Unfairly sexy? Cherubic perfection made manifest in the flesh? You want to cover me with kisses and snuggle up together, hold me tight and never let go? Or maybe you just wanna stick that nice `ol cock of yours in my tight little butthole, hmmmm?" I said this all as if it were the most perfectly normal thing in the world to me, which it sort of was in that I'd joked about that sort of thing with boyfriends before. Nagram, however, was rather distraught following my speech, and was left with his jaw on the floor, which I must admit was my intention all along.

"W-w-w-well something like that!" He spat and sputtered the words out. "I w-w-was sort of hop-p-ping we could maybe get to know each other first?" He managed an honest smile, admirable.

"Aw, John, can I call you John now?" I smiled right back to him honestly, and came right up behind his desk, increasing the physical proximity to almost zero. He did smell nice, I had to say.

"S-sure, you can call me John." Total demeanor change from the beginning of detention. The mission was already accomplished, all I had to do was follow through, now.

"John. You've already known me for a month and a half. You're my homeroom teacher, remember? What do you want to do?" I murmured these last words very softly, right into his ear. I know this dude gets off on the power trip, hearing a student he crushed on say that probably made him half-cum in his pants. I mean, the guy's face was bright red as it was.

"I don't know, what, what do you want to do?" Aw, he was so helpless, rendered all speechless like that! I think he was still a bit overcome at how quickly this had happened. After all, I'd planned it, not him.

"Why don't we do this, okay?" I took a big step across his legs, and sat right down on his lap. With a grin I scooted up as far as I could, so I could feel an extraordinarily hard organ up against my ass, and mine pressing into his stomach.

"This is fun, isn't it?" I laughed as Nagram was reduced to guttural groans as I started to move up and down on him, actually getting into it myself more than I thought I would. I wrapped my arms around the man's neck, and my legs around his waist, and let him do the thrusting for a little while. He started groping my butt, too, squeezing it as we pressed our erections together. I really was feeling like I needed to get off, which I didn't expect would happen, actually. I just needed a little more stimulation, the whole grinding thing wasn't quite getting the job done.

"Do you like my little cock, sir?" I moaned, while he continued his inelegant pressing and thrusting.

"Ohh yes," he blurted, "I like it a lot!" People say the dumbest shit when they're having sex, honestly, it's one of those absurd aspects of the human condition.

"Well why don't you pay a little attention to it!" Was what I started and intended to say, but it was broken up by that bastard squeezing me tightly with his arms, spasming slightly at his waist as his thankfully covered dick pressed up against my thankfully covered asshole, and he shot his load in his pants. Then he dropped like a sack into his chair, and I was left, once again, frustrated and extremely dissatisfied. What in the hell was WITH IT with people today? No common courtesy? They just shoot their load and go on their way. Nagram shot his load in about 2 and a half minutes, too, the loser. "Ohhh, that was amazing Kyre." His eyes were practically rolled back in his head.

"Yeah, it was amazing for me too. Just terrific." I was already standing up and inspecting my pants, making sure they were clean, checking my shirt too. The shirt's a silk button-down job I imported from Europe, and I'll be damned if the thing'll get stained, it cost me about $130 with shipping. But you know, if you're a well-figured boy who wants to look good, you just can't get good clothes that fit in this country. Everyone's so fat!

Anyhow, Nagram was coming to the realization that he had some cleaning up to do, unless he wanted to have some explaining to do to his colleagues. He also noticed that I was leaving.

"Oh, you don't need to stay the rest of detention, by the way." He said, with a smug air of self-satisfied bullshit that, literally, made me want to punch the guy in the mouth.

"Oh, you're gonna be doing a lot more for me than that, sir," I sneered with my most evil smile. "See ya at homeroom tomorrow morning!" I turned at that, unlocked the door, swung it open, and slammed it shut behind me.

Walking briskly down the corridor, seeing the bright sunlight streaming through the glass doors at the end of the hall, I could almost smell the freedom. The dull ache of almost reaching orgasm and being denied once again was fading, but the simple unfairness of the situation was continuing to bug the hell out of me. I mean, am I really that cheap, that much of a whore that I can just be used and not treated with the slightest love and respect? Really, what is up with that? What is it about me that causes people to think I only care about their satisfaction? I mean, I admit that I am naturally submissive, but that does not make it fair that I get left hanging twice today.

I pushed the doors open, and was outside, finally, and had about 3 hours of daylight left still. All things considered, I thought, it is pretty badass to get out of detention by fucking your teacher. A first even for me, but oddly empowering. I felt a strong desire to keep making this day special, after all, it was bound to get better from here on out.

CHAPTER FOUR

I have to say, there really ain't nothin' quite like riding down on the street on a perfect afternoon, hair streaming in the wind, taking shortcuts through the alleys, hoppin' a curb or two. It's just liberating, particularly the ride home from school always is, you can't beat it. Taking the trip to go somewhere cool kinda sucks, because you want to get there and the expectation can be maddening, or at least it is for someone as impatient as myself, I guess. But leaving a place like school, and having the maximum amount of time until you have to go back? Just to get going and put distance between you and that place is the best feeling ever.

Only thing was, I had no idea exactly where I was going yet. I'd wanted to go chill with Trin, ideally in an effort to cleanse my pallet from my recent experience, which I must admit, left me with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Now, don't get any ideas, I attach very little importance to sex, I'm much more concerned with being sexy than actually having sex, because it's a way better time, if you get my meaning. I don't mind being sexy to some old perv, but crossing the actual line with a guy like that was... odd. Not what I expected. I certainly was glad of the achievement, but to be honest, I felt awkward about walking into homeroom the next day. And don't get the wrong idea here! I'm certainly not scared. It's like swimming in shark-infested waters; there's a capacity for danger that, I must admit, gets me off. Parts of the experience were empowering, like I said. I decided that the nauseating feeling had to do with what Nagram took from our encounter. What if the goddamn kiddie-diddler did get the best out of the deal?

I was thinking these thoughts, when I realized that my bike had taken me to Jonny's place. One of the good things about having him as a friend was that his parents are rich, and let's not lie to ourselves here. Everyone likes having rich friends. I pedaled up his driveway, and saw that he was shooting freethrows by himself in his own personal basketball court off to the side of their mansion. The funny thing about Jonny is that he really doesn't have friends, as far as I know, I'm the only actual friend he's got. He puts most people off by being, in general, by being smarter and more of a jerk than everyone else. I've got raffish charm and a devil-may-care attitude, which at least is charismatic and means lots of people want to be my friend. Jonny's just bitter and sarcastic. But I love him, and wouldn't have him be any other way. Except right now I hate him. The lines often blur, it confuses me too.

I approached the court where he was playing, and I think he must have seen me coming before, because he was studiously not turning around as I called his name several times. He couldn't have been at it that long, but he was really going for it. Shooting the ball, missing, gathering it up again, running back to the hoop, and trying again.

"Hey, Jonny! Egotistical asshole ignoring his friend! Fag with the basketball!" Something was seriously up with him today, he just went right on ignoring me. I stomped onto the court and stood directly in front of him as he was about to shoot again, put my hands on my hips, and glared hard. "What is THE MATTER with you?" I demanded, legitimately curious. His head was down, and I could see sweat beading on his pale forehead.

"Look, I don't really want to talk to you, I'm not sure if you can tell or not. I told you that today sucked." He spoke in what he tried to make come off as a dangerous monotone, but a tiny quiver on the word 'tell' gave him away.

"So, you don't wanna talk to me? Any particular reason? It's just 'cuz you're just having a really tough day, poor little baby?" Usually talking to Jonny like this yields positive results, he just zings you right back. Not today. He looked up with a scowl at me.

"You'd seriously better get the fuck out of my face, Kyre." Now there was a bit of a dangerous look to him. Blue-gray eyes, typically warm when turned towards me at least, were frozen and unmoving. He was biting down hard on his lower lip.

"Oh, stop with the death-eyes, Jonny, you're not foolin' me. What's the deal? Why'd you ditch me in the bathroom earlier, and why in the hell are you acting like you hate me right now?" Now I was glaring at him. I'm not exactly easily flustered, but that's because I keep most people at arm's length.

"I ditched you in that bathroom," he said through gritted teeth, "Because I was attempting some vengeance on you for ignoring me the past week, hanging out with that little sixth grader."

"Alright, fair enough. I kind of picked up on that, actually." This was not strictly true, I'd been half-aware that he'd been annoyed all week, but I didn't really pay much mind to it. Jonny acts pissy half the time anyway.

"Kind of? Please. You could care less how I feel, be honest." Sigh. Now the kid was in full-on drama queen mode. The last time he'd done this was in seventh grade when he was coming to terms with being gay, acting as if it was some life-altering and epic experience that only he had gone through. You wanna tell people like that to get over themselves, but it never really works all that well.

"Hey. Just because I care doesn't mean that I'm like, perfectly attuned to your mood 100% of the time." I was pacing around a little now on the court, starting to sweat a little in the sun.

"Pfft. The only person's mood you're ever attuned to is your own. That's all you care about. Yourself." He laughed bitterly.

These jealous trips Jonny gets on, I dunno, they make me nervous. I maintain that our relationship ought to be friendship-based, because being in love is entirely different from just loving someone. He's in love with being in love, not with me, which is where this drama was coming from. He just wanted an excuse to get upset with me.

"Okay Jonny, I think I get it." It's hard not to get exasperated as all hell in this kind of situation. "This is my fault, because I like to screw around with other boys and have fun, and I don't pay enough attention to my devastatingly handsome boyfriend, right?"

"You know, Kyre." The death stare returned. He was getting better at it, now. "I wouldn't be anywhere near this upset if you'd just been screwing around with other boys."

Oh, shit.

I wasn't quite sure what to say, because this was not a contingency I'd planned on. Maybe I was being naive, but I honestly never thought I'd get caught by anyone, let alone Jonny. And he was literally the only person who would be, well, emotionally distraught by seeing me and the teacher.

"Okay. So you saw that. How much did you see? Because there really wa-" I was cut off mid-sentence.

"Oh, I don't know, I saw you two having sex in his chair, in the damn classroom! I was gonna try and bust you out when you went to the bathroom, you know?" He was starting to get overwrought now, saying all this. Tears were even forming in his eyes. It was sort of hard, at this point, for me to say anything else, but I tried anyway.

"We had our clothes on, you know, we weren't like really having sex..."

It probably wasn't a good idea for me to attempt to justify my actions at that time, but I have trouble not saying really stupid things, on occasion. Turns out this was one of the stupidest things I'd ever said, as before I could try to continue, Jonny had actually decked me in the side of the face.

"SON OF A BITCH! What's your PROBLEM?!" I was actually pissed at this point. I had my hand up to my throbbing left cheek, my face was flushed, hair was in disarray. A lot of shit's gone down between the two of us in the last year, but nothing like that.

"Leave, Kyre. Just leave right now, turn around, get on your damn bike, and leave." Jonny's back was turned to me, and I certainly hoped he felt worse about what had just happened than I did. I finally did what he told me to, something I ought to have done sooner. I got on my damn bike and left.

Now, I really feel that it's important to communicate the feeling I had when I was leaving Jonny's that particular afternoon. I gotta go a bit deep into the past to get there, though. I was 11 years old when my parents died. My mom, she was actually great, just really soft-hearted and didn't have a single mean bone in her body. If anyone didn't deserve to die it was her, the woman was practically a saint. I worshiped her. My dad, on the other hand, was not a very nice guy. I mean, he never actively abused me or anything like that. Well, he hit me once, but it was pretty much by accident and I couldn't really understand what was happening. My dad just didn't like me, I guess. He wasn't really around. I don't know if he didn't like me, or if he was just indifferent to me. He was a lonely guy, though, didn't like to spend much time with anyone. He probably married my mom because she was an inexhaustible fount of affection. He was like the bottomless pit where affection went to die, they really were perfect for each other.

Anyway, I was home with the babysitter when I got the news that they were in a car crash. I was supposed to be asleep, but I wasn't. I always tried to wait up till midnight when they'd come home, two hours past my bedtime. I'd wait for my mom to come tuck me in. I remember the phone ringing that night, and knowing that something was wrong, because the phone never rang that late. I rolled out of bed and cracked the door, so I could hear down the hall what was being said. There was the scared sound in the babysitter's voice, the way it shook. She was saying something about me, about how she couldn't be the one to tell me, she couldn't possibly do that. I think I understood at that point that my parents were never going to come back home, somehow, but of course I didn't exactly process it. I shut the door as softly as possible, and just went back to bed.

I lay awake in bed that entire night, alone. Nobody came to talk to me, because I was assumed to be asleep until morning when the news would presumably be broken. That was the longest night of my life, by far. It never ended. I think that night is still going on in some weird way, actually, everything that's happened since could easily be some sort of fever dream. I had somehow become unstuck from existence as I lay in bed. When you're 11, your parents loom very large in your miniature universe. I lay there and tried to imagine how life could possibly go on after this. It's unbearably cliche, I know, but that was basically all I could think about. How would I eat? Who would take me to school? Who would read to me? Who could I talk to? Who could I trust? It just made no sense. Try as I might, I couldn't wrap my head around it. When morning came around, some part of me was fundamentally changed. Pieces of my insides had been swapped out with somebody else's. I don't want to say that I 'lost my innocence', or anything as horrifyingly trite as that. But I think one kid walked into his room that night to go to bed, and another kid stepped out the door the next day.

Biking away from Jonny's after our fight was the closest I've come to that night, since it happened. It wasn't nearly as bad as losing my parents or anything, but it was the same general feeling. The sense that people were transitory, inconsistent, not to be counted upon. Even our closest and most important people.

CHAPTER FIVE

My legs burned like fire as I furiously pumped them up and down on the bike, nearly blind to everything around me. Tires screamed in rage and a car horn blared out, snapping me into my surroundings and the fact that I'd very nearly killed myself. Not a good idea to fly through even quiet side-streets without looking, apparently.

"What the HELL are you doing, trying to get yourself killed?!" The red- faced man behind the wheel was shouting at me. All I did was wave indistinctly, and then keep on going as fast as before. God knows what he thought about me or what he was shouting as I fled, thankfully I couldn't hear. I didn't really need more people pissed off at me.

I looked ahead and saw a little park: a little league baseball diamond, playground, soccer field, some trees and picnic tables. I rode up to a tree where I was in the shade, and could sit down somewhat innocuously and just watch people. Try not to think about myself for a while. A game was going on in the baseball field, short little kids in uniforms standin' around, trying to act macho. The pitcher's taller than the rest of them, with longish hair, clearly in charge of the situation as far as he's concerned. He winds up and fires the ball in as the kid at the plate flails, pushing a little squibber between the pitcher and the first baseman, all the kids scrambling around as fast as they can. Younger kids were on the playground, swinging, sliding, falling off the monkey-bars.

There's an untouchable innocence about children at play, something that is pure. Finicky parents look on as their offspring interact with others, take risks, fall down and get back up only to do it all over again. Occasionally they'll skin a knee, but nothing too bad. I'll be honest, though, I felt unspeakably jealous of them. I don't know if it was because they were so damn safe, no matter what happened to them, or if it was just some unrequited longing that I'd repressed. It came from a darker place than my general feeling of cynical detachment. At least cynicism felt nice, this wasn't anything like that, this was just bad. I fell onto my back under the tree, and looked up at the leaves dancing slowly in the breeze, a mottled green as the sunlight streamed through them.

"...Hey, Kyre?" Hmmmm. An interested voice coming from behind me. It figures, I can't even be miserable in peace today. I rolled over onto my elbows and looked up, and to my surprise found myself gazing into the cherubin face of young Trin! I hadn't actually expected to run into him again, but he would at least be nice to look at right now, if nothing else. Truly beautiful boys are hard to come by, and this kid really ought to have been a movie star or something. Even with the feathery brown hair, epicene facial definition, and enviable boy-hips, it was his stunning hazel eyes that stood out the most; framed with long lashes and fine eyebrows, they portended a depth and understanding that simply did not exist in 12-year-old boys.

"Ah, how's it goin' Trin?" I futiley attempted to act casual. Stupid idea, really.

"Why are you crying?" He asked simply. Son of a bitch.

"I'm not crying." Boys don't cry. "Well, whatever." He was towering over me, looking down. I felt a little silly, my hair in disarray and falling in my face, looking up at him. I hadn't been crying [i]that much[/i] or anything, but even when it happens a little my eyes get red and bloodshot, and it looks really obvious.

"It's just the time of year, allergies." I sniffled a little bit. Why why why why why do I have to act so tough all the time? It's so stupid, bothering to act tough; it's no use in these situations. If we lived in a world where we actually said and did what we meant all the time, I would probably be sobbing undignifiedly and collapsing into his arms. Instead, I asked him what he was doing here. Ugh.

"Ah, Jaime totally ditched me! Sarah wanted to hang out with him and they want to the mall together." He plopped down onto the ground beside me. "She's like the cutest and most popular girl in the grade though, I can't really blame him."

"Oh yes, the lure of really cute girls cannot be denied." I couldn't help but keep the sarcasm out of my voice. It's a bad thing about being miserable, you make other people that way too. Trin's pretty immune to it, I don't think he's capable of having a bad day.

"I dunno, it just kinda sucks." He was absent-mindedly yanking up blades of grass.

"What, you didn't wanna go with them?" Might as well get to the bottom of this, it would at least take my mind off losing my own best friend.

"I really hate going shopping." Trin crinkled up his nose and squinted upwards. "And besides, she likes him, you know?" This was getting a little interesting, anyways. Trin hadn't talked to me about girls before, but I'd done plenty of homework on the gossip surrounding the boy. I certainly wasn't the only one who had a thing for him, obviously. I sat up quickly now and crossed my legs, smiling at the younger boy who seemed a little surprised.

"I did not know, but it's always good to hear about these things. You do know that Anabel, Claire, Heather, and Jenna all like you, right? Claire's always hangin' out with Sarah, she must've wanted you to go along!" This really was getting interesting.

"Jenna? She's in your grade though!"

"Well, so what? She's pretty good-looking, I mean, other than being 3 inches taller than you." He giggled. "But seriously, you're... All the girls, all of 'em in your grade at least must want to hang out with you."

"Yeah, but I just wanna have fun, those girls are so weird. What's so wrong about wanting to just play baseball with your friend, ride bikes, I dunno... " He giggled again, a little nervously this time. "I thought you were a girl the first two weeks I saw you, y'know." Oh really?

"Believe it or not, that's not the first time I've heard that one." Trin was fidgeting with his hair, and unless I was mistaken, blushing slightly!

"Why do you do that? I mean like, why do you dress all girly? Isn't that like a girl's shirt? And those shorts! You always wear that sorta stuff." He was staring at my lower half now, which really is the whole idea.

"I like to dress like this, it's who I am," I told him. "What, d'you want to know where I shop or something?" Now he blushed hard.

"N-no! I just wanted to know if you were really gay. I mean, I'd heard that." He looked at the ground now and began rapidly shredding more grass. It would be dangerous to get too excited about this, as I'd experienced it before. Other boys love to express a certain degree of superficial interest in me for this sort of thing, and it doesn't always feel great. It's like, look at the queerboy in his natural habitat! See how he cavorts about in sexy clothing, and appears confused concerning what gender he is! Sigh.

"Do you know what gay means, Trin?"

"Of course I know what it means! I'm not stupid, it means faggot. It means you like other guys." There was a concise and astute definition, if I'd ever heard one. It's a good thing Trin was so unearthly beautiful, because he was really lacking in some social niceties.

"Yeah, that's what it means. I am gay, but I don't dress like this because I'm gay, really, I just like dressing like this. It's who I am," I repeated. Might as well try and teach him something, if nothing else comes of this. At the least it was distracting me from my real problems.

"Oh, okay," he said, staring me in the eye now. "I like the way you look, Kyre. I think it's cool!" There was something astonishingly wonderful about his bluntness. The kid was incapable of manipulation it seemed, he was so forthright. I felt a little dirty, trying to pull the strings and not being completely honest with him.

"Thanks, that really means a lot." I said this slowly and looked into his eyes. "Look, Trin, I haven't been honest with you. I like you, I've liked you ever since I saw you. You're beautiful, I couldn't take my eyes off you. I don't even know why I'm telling you this, you're obviously... I mean, I'm sorry, this isn't fair to you at all." I frowned.

It felt amazing to get this off my chest. All this shit with Nagram and Jonny that was going on, all my personal issues, all of it seemed to fade from my mind while I confessed this. All that mattered was this moment of avowal. But as I'd said, it wasn't fair to Trin. I was doing this for me, not for him, and I couldn't shake that edge of pain that clung to my confession. Trin to his credit looked nonplussed, and gazed right back at me with those deep and soulful eyes, a light emerald in the sun's reflection.

"Oh. I sort of knew that already, I kinda liked you when I thought you were a girl. But I actually like you a little more as a boy I think, because we can also hang out and do fun stuff together!" Oh god. I had no idea whether he knew what he was saying or not, or if he really even understood completely about this whole sex thing.

"So what, you wanna be my boyfriend, is that it? Or just my friend? Why exactly are you telling me this?" I demanded peevishly. I should have just been happy about what he said, goddamnit.

"I don't know! How should I know?" He was getting flustered, and angry about this. I had touched a nerve. "Why were you crying when I showed up?"

"...Look, just come over here, okay?"

"What, sit next to you?"

"Yes, you pretty little idiot, come over here and sit next to me."

"....Okay."

The boy sat down beside me, and we looked at one another. The silence between us sprung up with the physical proximity, and I could think of nothing else to say. I couldn't really think of anything else to [i]do[/i], really. Trin was better at this than I was, somehow, and enveloped me in a hug. Surprised, I responded in kind. We broke off after a short while, looking at one another briefly, and embraced once more at the same time, collapsing to the ground. We rolled around and struggled playfully a little, Trin giggling, and found a comfy spot in the grass. I had my arms wrapped around him now, hugging him closely to my body. There's nothing like the warmth of another human being. His hair felt as soft on my face as it had always looked, and smelled of lavender. Sex is overrated when there's cuddling, I always think, that was my favorite thing to do with Jonny. It felt different with Trin; there was something pliant and openly honest about him. It felt like there were no strings attached. I sighed softly, and felt my body truly relax for maybe the first time all day. Trin wiggled a little bit, and spoke up.

"Hey Kyre, why are you still crying?"

I sniffled.

"I'm not."

CHAPTER SIX

I was in a half-remembered haze of conversation, as questions I couldn't completely focus on floated in and out of my periphery. When you've been fantasizing about something for a while, the experience of achieving it is often very different from the expectation. It seemed at the time that my feelings for this boy had less to do with sex, and more to do with a desire to protect him at all costs. I'm not a protective type normally, but Trin had such a perfect and Zen frame of mind; it would be a crime to lose it. I always had so many conflicting ideas, theories, and opinions spinning around that talking to someone who viewed the world simply was endlessly refreshing.

I was primarily aware of the feel of Trin against myself, as we lay there, on my back now with the boy across me, his head tucked under my chin, eyes squeezed shut. It really was remarkably effortless for him, not so much for me. I'd never been in this exact position before, usually I'd be where Trin was right now, typically in the more submissive role. But it was appropriate, I thought; maybe I'd always sought out this particular boy not just because he was uniquely beautiful, but out of some desperately vicarious desire to revisit my own issues. What if this was how Jonny felt every time I'd lay on him like that, his arm around my shoulder?

Ideas like this swirled 'round and 'round, and I couldn't focus on Trin's occasionally boring and innocent comments about his life. I could keep up with some nods and mmm-hmms, and this seemed to make him happy enough. The boy could probably tell I was pre-occupied to an extent, but he didn't seem to mind. It was enough for him that we had this moment together, and to be honest, it was enough for me as well right now. The skin on his arm was so soft, an almost invisible layer of pale hair rippling in the breeze, long and dark eyelashes fluttered as I ran my fingers back and forth across his forearm. I was unconsciously mimicking the same things that Jonny and I did, predictable enough as he's the usual person I'd done this before with. Sigh.

It was becoming increasingly clear to me that I couldn't really pursue this relationship unless I'd somehow made things right in my life. I'm loath to think that I've fucked up or made some mistake, but it was kind of foolish at this point to pretend otherwise. What a bitch, too, because the last thing I needed today was even [i]more[/i] work. The sun was almost gone, and I could see the pale shape of the moon on the midnight-blue sky already. Must be like 6 or so, not a lot of time. A plan was already beginning to form in my mind. It was kind of a weird and fucked up plan, and about a hundred things could probably go wrong, but damn. It was a plan!

"Hey Trin?" I ruffled my fingers in his hair, and those startling green eyes opened up and regarded me pleasantly.

"Mmmm?" The smaller boy squirmed sleepily in my arms. "It's getting a little chilly out here," he remarked.

"We probably should be going home soon, yeah..." I trailed off gloomily as I sat up now, breaking the warmth between us. So lame that we couldn't just go home together right now, I wasn't exactly looking forward to being alone. Trin showed that he was either very keyed into my emotional state or that I was absurdly easy to read by pulling me back to the ground and restoring our previous position, clearly in protest. Leaving this boy today was going to be hell, was my only thought. Our faces were touching now, nuzzling together, the heat of the boy's flushed cheek, his breath tickling my ear. I can't really say who initiated the kiss, nor can I say how long it lasted exactly, but it was nice. Trin wasn't exactly... well-versed in the art, shall we say, but that made it all the more adorable from my own perspective.

We broke off, and he started giggling. The giggling turned to full-fledged laughter, and before I knew it, he was out of my arms and practically rolling on the ground in infectious hysterics.

"What," I said, laughing a little as well, "Is so damn funny?" The situation didn't exactly strike me as the most hilarious thing in the world. It took another minute or so before he calmed down.

"Ohhh my..." A few more peels of laughter. He dried his eyes. "I dunno why I'm laughing! That was my first kiss, and it was just so.... funny!" This kid was such a trip, honestly.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" I was grinning now in spite of myself, reclining back on my elbows as I watched Trin try to mentally process all of this.

"I dunno! It was weird, next time I'll know what to expect." He had gotten up now, and was checking the time on his cellphone. "Oh man! My mom's gonna kill me, I'm already late for dinner." He hustled over to his bike and was on it before I could blink.

"Hey, wait! I gotta go take care of some things but I wanna come by and see you later. Where do you live?"

"Oh, I'm just in the big house at 16th and Lincoln. Gimme a call and I can sneak you in, maybe, I've snuck out before." He was beginning to pedal away now, and shouted out his numbers as I scrambled to put 'em into my phone. Damn kids, always leaving in a hurry.

I got onto my own bike then, rather quickly. I had a bunch of shit to get done tonight now, and not a lot of time. I went full-speed the 12 blocks or so back to my house, traveling a good bit more safely this time than before. Of course it was darker and colder out now, but nevertheless I had arrived back home in no more than 5 minutes.

I ditched the bike in the garage, and bolted noisily into the house. The folks were there, eating dinner, and got up to interrogate me as to why I was home late. I tossed out some bullshit about homework and videogames at Jonny's as I fixed up a plate of the roast chicken and potatoes they'd cooked, and proceeded to eat at top-speed in the kitchen. I finished and ran up the stairs into my room. I quickly pulled off my shirt and shimmied out of my shorts, a skill I'd long since mastered, and went digging through my dresser. Didn't take long to find what I was looking for: a pair of black jeans, black and green striped longsleeve shirt, and my best black hoodie. My ninja uniform, in other words! I pulled them all on post-haste, and inspected myself in the mirror. Hmmm. I grabbed a little elastic hair tie off my desk and pulled my lovely locks back in a ponytail. One more thing was missing, but I located a pair of sneakers in the closet. There we go. Then it was off to the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash some water on my face, and I was ready to head back out.

But first, I had to find the phone book! I hardly use the damn thing at all, but it was integral to my plan. I finally procured one in some random kitchen drawer, and began scanning through the white pages. N.... N-A.... N-A-G..... There we go, Nagram. Luckily, there was just one solitary J Nagram in the tri-city area. Had to be the right one too, his address was only 5 blocks from the school. Excellent. I copied it down on a scrap of paper, and went back into the dining room to find the folks just finishing up.

"Hey mom, dad? I'm going out to see a movie with some friends, we're having a sleepover at Jonny's." This was fairly typical, he had the biggest house and it was a Friday. Pretty easy lie.

"Alright, Kyre," my 'mom' replied. "Make sure you bring your pack, and give us a call tomorrow morning, okay?" She gave me a hug. My foster mom was actually very cool, her husband not so much. He gave a grunt of assent, and went into the kitchen. I don't think he appreciated having a kid like me even as a foster son, but whatever. Screw him.

I bade them farewell and ran through the side-door into the garage, hopped back onto my bike and was off once more. I checked the time; only 25 minutes for the detour back at the house! Not bad. Time was very important now, as I had to get to Nagram's and case the joint, scope it out. Hopefully the guy went out on Friday nights like a normal person, or has a girlfriend or something, so I'd have a chance to get inside and have a nice and long look around. Now I know, breaking into a house, a little sketchy, right? But nobody really uses security systems around these parts, certainly not some guy on teachers' wages. Not to mention, even if I were to get caught by him in the worst-case scenario, I'd have a pretty firm upper hand. No way he'd call the cops on sweet little me. Not that it'd come to that, I didn't suppose it would be tough to procure something incriminating in the dude's house. I just didn't want it to be too goddamn creepy.

Don't get the wrong idea here, I'm not setting out to ruin this guy's life or anything. I saw that flick Hard Candy, and while it was at times hilarious and empowering to myself as a portrait of a sexually conscious younger person taking control of a situation, I'm not really cut out for torture and mock-castrations. Or for forcing people into suicide. I just wanted to fix my own life, and the best way to prove to Jonny that I did give a damn about him, and could acknowledge and fix my mistakes, was to get Nagram out of the picture. The most effective (and fun!) method seemed to be blackmail. Just force the guy to resign the next day, which should definitely prove something to Jonny. Knowing that he was a pedo and had to have some naughty shit in his apartment made it all the more easy.

I'd gone over all this several times in my head by the time I arrived at his place, tiptoeing in the shadows on the sidewalk as I approached. The house was a little one-story bungalow he must've been renting, painted some sickly yellow color. A light was on in the window to the side, but a venetian blind was pulled down. I dropped the bike under a shrubbery in the neighboring yard, and crept ever so softly around the back. There was another light on in a back window, except these blinds weren't shut properly. The window was even open, and I could hear typing. There was Nagram, in what appeared to be a second bedroom he was using for a study. I could see his face illuminated by the blue glow of a computer, and he seemed to be very focused on something. It was a bit of a shame, I thought once more as I looked at him; the guy was pretty cute.

The next hour or so was extremely boring. I found a little spot where I felt nice and invisible, and observed. He got up a couple times, returning once with what must've been an alcoholic drink of some sort, and proceeded to drink it in front of the computer. I was starting to get worried; what if this guy really didn't go out? He could be a drunk! I was saved then, when I heard the sure sounds of a vehicle pulling up to the house. I heard a car door slamming, followed by a front door slamming, and then saw a woman of slight build with mousy black hair enter Nagram's study. He got up, and they embraced. It figures that his girlfriend looks basically like a little boy, I thought. To my relief she wasn't getting her coat off or anything, and they seemed to be getting ready to go. Awesome. They exited the room, and I waited another five minutes not quite knowing what was going. Then the front door closed again, and the car doors, and a car sped off.

I got up, rubbed my palms together in anticipation, and grinned. He hadn't even shut his window! This was gonna be so easy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Turns out breaking into houses isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world. Ok, I don't have the most experience at this particular art, but I thought it might be sorta fun, and simple at any rate. It took like five minutes of work to get the screen loose though, and it was super-sketchy. Every car going by on the road could have been a cop or something. By the time I'd actually gained clear entry into the house, my heart was pumping pretty damn fast! I actually hate that feeling, it's just so unpleasant. It doesn't remind me of anything good. I have a kind of fucked up flight or fight response I think, and it activates at the wrong times. I'll be in, like, a totally normal situation and all of a sudden I'll get the sensation that something is [i]seriously[/i] wrong. I should probably go to the doctor for it but it's never been too much of an issue.

To be completely honest, the real issue is that I don't trust shrinks. I got sent to a few of them after my parents died, and it was such a pointless exercise. They don't just condescend to you because you're a kid, they have this indefatigable air of superiority regardless of what fucked up shit you say to mess with them. Not that it ever helps that much. Oh, they'll say, you enjoy screaming in loud voices to your imaginary friends? And you have a love of falconry? I see. The joke of it all is that I knew they were just noting histrionic or attention-seeking behavior and thinking they were coming across some novel and clever realization. Bastards.

So once I'd mantled up the sill and slithered in on my belly, landing on the floor of the room, I had to take a few deep breaths and get my heartbeat under control. The first thing I noticed about the place was a weird, sterile smell. Like the dentist's office or something. It was dark and shadowy, so I couldn't see much, but it seemed pretty basic. A mostly empty, carpeted room with a desk and a chair, and a closed laptop situated upon it, along with several stacks of CD-Rs and some speakers. Hopefully I could find what I needed on the computer, back it up, and leave him a little note informing him of his situation. I was beginning to feel a little bad, and worried; what if there wasn't anything after all?

I sat down at the computer, still pretty sketched out and tuned in to basically every sound going on, and began to look. Hmmmm. Basic files, music, documents for school.... I wasn't finding anything after 5 minutes of browsing around his internet history. All I found out was that the guy's a Geronimo Jackson fan, follows competitive karate, drinks scotch, and apparently does not look at any porn at all. That part was a bit suspicious. I started rooting through the CD-Rs, putting them in one at a time and finding nothing but music or worksheet templates, shit like that. I checked the time and realized I'd been in there for 15 minutes already, which was seeming like a very long time. Something had to be here though! I had just opened the door of his study and was about to search the rest of the house, when I heard the horrifying sound of a car pulling up, and a door closing.

Now I had some adrenaline coursing through me. I don't really remember how I got there, but I ended up running into the closet like an idiot, and the next thing I recall is hearing someone coming. But just one person. Oh shit, I thought, I'd left the computer open!

"Oh no, you don't have to come in! I can't believe I left my purse here though, what was I thinking...." It was a woman's voice. My chest was going to explode, but it could be worse. She might not notice. I could hear her paces, she wore heels, and they were normal and steady for a few seconds until they came to an abrupt halt. "Is anybody there?! Who's there?! Come out!" Fuuuuuuck.

I had to do a bit of quick thinking, and it didn't take long to reach the conclusion that I was probably better off just showing myself. I don't really cut the figure of an imposing or threatening prowler, and she'd probably find me anyway. "Don't worry! Here I am, I'm sorry!" I spoke slowly and opened the door as carefully as possible, walking out with my arms up like they did in the movies. "I'm not a burglar, but be quiet! I don't want Mr. Nagram to come in here!" This was going to be awkward.

"Are you a student of his? What in God's name are you doing here, don't you know you'll wind up in juvenile hall like a delinquent!" Christ, now I was getting reprimanded. She was getting pissed and not being quiet in the slightest. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to break into John's house, he's a such a good man. You stay right here, young lady!"

"I'm not a young lady, lady! Don't go anywhere yet, and SSSSHHH! I'm here because your good boyfriend took advantage of me in detention today and I wanna get some dirt on him!" That made her stop in her tracks, and give me a look halfway between quizzical disbelief and furious revelation.

"He did... What? John would never do something like that."

"Oh, c'mon lady," I growled. "Hasn't he been acting a little strange today or anything?"

"Now that you mention it..." She trailed off and had that look like she actually knew what I was talking about for a second. She wrung her hands together nervously, and looked at the floor. "You're not lying, are you?"

"No ma'am, I most certainly am not." We shared a very direct, eye-to-eye gaze for a few moments, before Nagram entered his house, clearly tired of waiting.

"Hey Liz, what's taking you so long? I thought you just forgot your purse?" He walked into the study, and took in the whole of the scene. Me standing there, hair pulled back and decked out in black, his window open with the screen on the floor, and his girlfriend staring speechless at me. He seemed to be at a loss for words, but apparently Liz wasn't.

"YOU... TOTAL... FUCKING.... ASSHOLE!" She was screaming and red- faced, having made a clear jump from denial into anger, as far as the stages of acceptance were concerned. "DID YOU REALLY MOLEST THIS KID IN DETENTION?! DID YOU?!" She started attacking him then, trying to punch or slap at anything she could get at, and he had his arms thrown around his head in defense.

"No, Liz! I didn't, honest! Nothing happened at all!" He barely managed to talk through the onslaught. I was beginning to find this all kind of funny, myself.

"Oh don't give me THAT! This makes perfect sense, this makes total sense, THIS is why you can never perform, isn't it? THIS is why you're so fucking distant!" She aimed one more slap at him, and laughed derisively. "I can't believe I didn't listen to my girlfriends when they told me you were a closet- case. Hah! I can't wait to tell them about this."

"Liz... Baby... He's lying, he's just a crazy kid! C'mon, you know I'd never do something like that! Don't tell anyone about this, please!" Nagram was groveling on the floor now, looking mostly at her but he couldn't help stealing scared glances over at me, watching with my arms crossed and a shit-eating grin stamped across my face.

"HE'S LYING?!" She snorted. "How would he know that you keep those... What are they, art books? I can't believe that's what I thought they were too." Nagram apparently didn't have any answers to this particular indictment; you can get away with those books usually, Michael Jackson had some of 'em and he got off scot-free. Only problem is when it's combined with the kid standing in the room offering corroborating evidence. "Hey, kid, what's your name?" She was looking over at me now, so was Nagram.

"Oh, my name's Kyre." I grinned. "Don't go tellin' people I had something to do with this though, it'd be a little embarrassing."

"Sure thing, Kyre. That's a lovely name. I'll be calling the school tomorrow morning, and I'll be sure to leave your name out of it." She aimed a kick at the man on the floor, who gave a moan and a whimper. "Do you need a ride home, or anything?"

"It was all him, Liz, all him!" Nagram broke in now, gasping for breath as the wind had been knocked out of him before. "He was teasing me, bending over... It was all his fault!" This was really just too funny.

"That's what they all say! You're pathetic, I never want to see you again." Liz shook her head, and began to walk out the door. "And you know, Kyre. In the future it's a lot smarter to just talk to a responsible adult in confidence, rather than breaking into a strange man's house. You're very lucky you're going home tonight safe, young man." She actually gave me a smile. "Now come on, you're not going back out that window like some hoodlum." I was quite happy to follow her out the front door, although I had kinda wanted to go back out the window. It would have been cooler. I shot Nagram a look as I left, trying to communicate the mixture of guilt and satisfaction I felt. Sorry man, them's the breaks.

I followed Liz outside and to her car. "Thanks for believing me, really, I was worried nobody would take my story seriously. That's why I wanted evidence," I tried to explain. I did feel a little sheepish about the whole breaking and entering aspect of the night.

"You're actually very convincing, Kyre, you don't give yourself enough credit. You're sure you have a way home?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine, I've got a bike. It's not that late, or anything."

"Okay." She took out a piece of paper and wrote something down. "Here's my phone number. Make sure you call me. You like to seem very self- sufficient, but you've clearly gone through some kind of traumatic experience, maybe even beyond what that jerk did. I don't want to tell you that you need help, but..."

"But I need help." I finished her sentence. "I know. I'll call you, Liz, and thanks." Then she was off in her car, zooming away. She did have a point, I probably did need help. One thing I'd learned today was that I need to reassess my priorities to some extent. Maybe living an utterly contradictory existence was simply part of being a teenager, trying to address one issue while another one pops up, but it was getting tough. It's the fucking hormones, I think, or that's what people tell me. It's hard to believe them, because I can't exactly feel the hormones doing anything, I just am who I am. Another thing I'd learned, something that was very clear and obvious in my mind, was that I needed my friends. I needed Jonny, because there isn't anyone else I can just talk to about whatever's on my mind, all the time. He was like my only real family, except I'd created a relationship with him on my own terms. I needed Trin because he represented all that could be possible, the limitless fathoms of human mystery and depth. I'd never completely understand him, or his motivations, but he had a joie de vivre that made me a better person when I was around him. I even needed Bryan, and his lisping nerdiness, because everyone needed to geek out now and then. I needed more friends, I realized, maybe I even needed Liz, an adult to talk to with whom I could relate on a meaningful level, and on my own terms.

I couldn't wait to get out of that neighborhood, to be honest. I picked my bike up from under the shrubbery and was off again, getting my cell out in one hand while I steered with the other, calling Jonny up. I was disappointed to find that it went straight to voicemail, indicating that his phone was turned off and he was probably caught up in his own miseries. All I wanted to do was curl up in his lap and tell him that it'd all be okay, and that I'd made everything alright again. I wanted to feel protective of him this time, I wanted him to know that I cared about what he felt so much that I'd even go to extreme lengths to make things better. It was great to be able to recognize and understand these feelings clearly, I thought to myself, such a relief.

It was around 10PM by the time I arrived at Jonny's. Not that dark though, it was a very clear night and almost a full moon. Maybe one or two nights off. The massive house was pretty dark as I went up the driveway, only a few of the second-story lights were on. I tried his phone again, but no dice. There had to be some reasonable way to figure this out without, well, breaking into his house. I'd had enough of that tonight. I looked up at his window and the light was definitely on.

There were some stones in the garden to the side, so I gathered a handful of those up, and walked to the part of the house where his room was. I made a light toss, but it didn't get up high enough. Pathetic. I didn't wanna break the window or anything, though. I tried again, and succeeded in tapping the window properly this time. Then again, and another success! This was easy once you knew how hard to throw. I tossed a couple more up at the glass, eliciting satisfying taps. Just like in the movies!

The window was pushed open then. "Who in the HELL is throwing stones at my window?" A voice hissed. "Is that you, Kyre?" Heh.

"Of course it's me! Now get your ass down here and let me in, I told my parents I was spending the night at your place." I could hear his long, drawn- out sigh all the way down here.

"I thought I told you to leave."

"You won't believe the shit that's happened since I left here, Jonny, c'mon. I got a lot to talk to you about. Nagram ain't gonna be back at work at tomorrow, I can tell you that much." I was doing my best to be coy yet conciliatory, and this seemed to catch his interest.

"Okay, okay, meet me out front..." That really turned out a lot easier than I expected, I thought to myself. I considered what Liz had said before; perhaps I really didn't give myself enough credit sometimes.

A few minutes later he and I were up in his room together. I wish I had a room as nice, it was just full of stuff. Thick, nice carpets on the floor, overstuffed chairs, a cluttered desk with an enormous monitor, a flatscreen on one wall with games and such. It wasn't a big room by any means, but it was extraordinarily cozy. We were seated somewhat at odds with one another, though, myself cross-legged on the floor and him sitting upright on his bed, looking at me with earnest appraisal. He was wearing his version of pajamas, a gray and white striped tank with these weird lightweight pants that I wish I had a pair of. He was as handsome as ever though, even more so with his dark hair mussed-up and that angsty, pained look in his eye.

I began to tell him the story. What was going through my mind in detention with Nagram, why I'd done what I'd done. How I'd felt after our encounter in the bathroom, how I'd felt after we'd fought on the basketball court. I told him about Trin, and I was honest with him about that, about how he meant something undefinable to me. I actually told him how I'd felt about my parents' death, which was something he had the tact to never ask about, and something I generally do not discuss.

I tried to rationalize how this made me feel, and recounted the events that had just happened at our teacher's house. This had him appropriately shocked, shaking his head, and calling me a fucking idiot. I wouldn't expect anything less of him, though, and ultimately he was touched. He listened, too, and that was really important to me, that someone just listen. I must've talked for like an hour before I was done.

"So," I finished, "I came over here. Because I told the folks this is where I'd be, and I guess... I wanted to be with you anyway, after all this. I hope you're not mad at me anymore." I was a little hoarse after all this, going on and on about it all. I could feel that my cheeks were flushed, and even feeling kinda dizzy. I wanted to ask him why he'd been in such a bad mood today, other than from what I'd done, but Jonny didn't bother much with words after that, thankfully, because I honestly didn't know how much more talking I could handle. He just came over and helped me up off the floor, wrapped me in his arms, squeezed me tight, and rocked me back and forth a little, whispering tender and comforting words in my ear that I couldn't really hear. We collapsed onto his bed in this position, lips locked together now. He was always a very good kisser, we'd taught each other how to kiss originally, so it worked well. He knew that I liked lots of lingering little kisses, and clinging to his lower lip. They were comfort kisses, really, nothing intensely passionate and romantic. I was too tired for any of that at this point, in fact, I was feeling more and more tired by the second. I did have a hard-on though, and I was reminded that I never really did end up getting off today.

Jonny noticed this too, of course, and this time he was a perfect gentleman. I didn't even need to ask. We squirmed around and juggled our positions such that he was spooning me, and before I could really do anything he was unbuttoning my fly and attempting to pull my jeans down, which proved difficult given how tight they are. I wiggled my butt and helped him out, eventually freeing myself more or less effectively, and allowing Jonny to take the matter in hand.

"Mmmmm," I was reduced to inarticulate moans as the boy slowly began to work me up and down. I could feel his own erection pressing into my ass, and felt a twinge of satisfaction; I would surely be asleep before I could do anything for him. He was aware of this, however, and it was clear that this was some token of reconciliation on his part, and that's how I took. It was hard not to feel grateful, being right next to the one person in the world who could provide some degree of unconditional love, as fucked up as it might be at times, and have him attending to your needs, both emotional and physical. There was Trin, too, I thought. He could be capable of the same thing on a more basic level, and that was part of what made him special. But the fact that what Jonny and I had now was wrought in part from pain was a different, kind of bittersweet special.

I thought about these things, but mostly I was in the moment as he sped up, his soft hands working more quickly but just as gently, tickling the right spots and changing the tempo, covering my neck in kisses. I couldn't really say how long it took, time always seems to compress and expand in some cosmically significant way during such events, but on one particularly firm squeeze I could feel the warmth building up in me and expanding as it shot out. I get fleeting images in my mind that I can't really control at the time of orgasm, and I never really know what they mean. This time, there were three things that I saw. First, a giant eagle, flying above me, talons outstretched in some predatory fashion. Then, very clearly, my real father, fishing in the ocean, standing alone in big yellow waders. Finally, there was something intangible that I couldn't identify, a sort of fuzz like a bad TV station but colored pink, with odd shadows moving back and forth across it.

I think I came all over poor Jonny's bedspread, but I wasn't exactly aware of it. After that I was fading fast, comfortably wrapped in warm, safe arms. I'd probably have to get up and take these damn pants off, clean up at some point, I thought, but not yet. I could fall asleep for now, just like this, everything forgiven for the time being. There'd be the next day, and I'd have to deal with everything all over again. All the bullshit and nonsense. I'd have to call Liz, and she would want to talk to me about why I do the things I do. Problems don't go away, and people rarely change, and maybe I'd get in more fights with my friends. But later, later. There's no use dwelling in the future, because you can't enjoy the present. One day can feel like an eternity, when you live that way.

Fin