Only One Road - 7. Chapter 7

Only One Road (chapter 7)

It was the first Monday after Thanksgiving break, November 28. It’s been almost three weeks since Dylan and I got together. I couldn’t get enough of him. We spent every single night together. Sometimes, we would stay at his Aunt’s house, sometimes at mine. I kept telling my mother about some random projects that we had to work on, to justify him staying at my place so often and us spending so much time together. She would just smile and nod at that, and I would feel like the best schemer in the world.

Well, by the end of the second week of November, when we showed up at my house together again, she told Dylan to go wash his hands before dinner, and asked me to get something from the upper shelf for her. I didn’t smell the trap, so I was reaching for some plates when she asked me nonchalantly:

“So, how long have you been with him?”

Have you ever choked on your own tongue? Not the most pleasant feeling in the world. I almost dropped the damn plate. When I looked at her with badly hidden horror and tried to say something like, “What-are-you-talking-about-I-have-no-idea-you-must-be-nuts-because-this-is-crazy-talk,” she just rolled her eyes.

“Connor,” she said patiently. “I see how you look at each other. Plus, you are always together. I don’t think there are thatmany projects at your school that you have to do…”

I grabbed onto that plate like it was my life vessel. I wasn’t ashamed or anything like that, no, but I was downright horrified. My mother sighed and took the plate away from me. Actually, she pried it from my clutching fingers.

“Stop acting like that,” she said sternly. “And deal with the fact that your mother is not completely ignorant when it comes to her only son, okay?”

“Ack,” I said.

“Go wash your hands,” she sighed again.

“Ack,” I said again.

“Oh, and by the way,” she gave me a very serious look. So serious that I knew she was doing her best not to laugh. “Your father pretty much figured it out as well.”

“Aaaa…” was all I could master and went to the bathroom, hoping that maybe I could drown myself in the sink.

When I told Dylan about the whole conversation later in the evening, he just gave me the same crooked smile that didn’t fail to send shivers down my spine again.

“Just be thankful that your parents are normal,” he said. “And they didn’t disown you or something.”

I figured that yeah, he was right, so I stopped worrying about it. Ever since we fist slept together, which happened in the beginning of November, we were in some insane constant sex craze for each other. Seriously, I didn’t expect myself to have that much stamina. By the end of Thanksgiving week, we could play each other’s bodies with the same skill as Perlman can play his Stradivarius. I could interpret his every single gasp, breath, and moan. He knew my every single button, and he was pushing all of them virtuosically.

By then, I also knew some of his weird and sometimes, dark kinks and quirks. For example, I knew that he enjoyed inflicting pain. Not on me – he never hurt me – but he would do it quite often at school. Usually, on those who managed to get on his bad side – there were quite a few people. He would never do anything to girls though, not even if they would get on his nerves, which was a very easy task. He would just ignore them, and once in a while, move them out of his way if they got too close to him, as if they were pieces of furniture. When it came to guys, however, he could get vicious.

Every time he would twist someone’s arm or finger, or do something else to some unfortunate yahoo who managed to piss him off, he’d do it calmly and almost leisurely, like some quite pleasant task. It was turning him on too, I could always tell. I asked him about that once, and he just shrugged and said, “Yeah, it’s in my nature, I know.”

I didn’t push the whole matter further, figuring that he wouldn’t do anything without a semi-good reason, and he hasn’t put anyone in the hospital. Plus, it should just teach people to stay the hell away from him, which would be a good thing.

The other thing about him was the fact that he hated dogs. All of them. Especially, the larger breeds. It didn’t matter if the dog was the friendliest creature on the face of the planet – Dylan hated dogs. He didn’t care about cats or other animals, he simply ignored them, but whenever he saw a dog, he’d literally start shaking with hatred. I asked him about that too.

“When I was three or four, my neighbor’s dog almost killed me,” he said solemnly. “He was a mean bastard. They put him to sleep after that happened, but ever since then, I hate dogs.”

That made sense, so I stopped asking him about it. Another thing about him was his mood. Actually, his mood swings. He could go from almost delirious happiness to dark depression in a matter of seconds. It didn’t happen too often, but whenever it did, it scared the crap out of me, because it would always be really sudden and unpredictable. It didn’t scare me because I was afraid that he would hurt me or something, no. It scared me because every time it hit him, he’d look like he was about to kill himself or somebody else. It never lasted too long, thank God – an hour at the most, and then he’d be back to his normal, sarcastic, poison-spitting self. God help those idiots who managed to get on his nerves while he was in one of his ‘dark moods’ what I called them.

I knew all that about him, I learned it gradually; and to my enormous surprise, neither of those things made me love him any less. I just accepted him the way he was. Sure, some things were somewhat disturbing, but it never even occurred to me to do something to change him. He was the way he was, end of story.

But anyway, back to the last Monday of November. Right before the lunch period, Dylan told me in a low voice that he needed to talk to me about something. I was half-asleep all day, so I just nodded. After the bell rang, I gathered all my stuff and followed him out of the classroom, yawning nonstop. He went all the way upstairs, and finally, I started wondering what the hell he was up to.

He headed straight towards the bathroom, and I just blinked. Does he want me to hold his hand or something? I went in after him.

“What did you wanna… Umgph!”

He didn’t even let me finish the sentence. He just grabbed me by the back of the neck, pulled me into one of the farthest stalls, and locked the door.

“What…” I muttered when he pushed me against the wall. “What are you…”

He threw his backpack on the floor and started kissing me like he hasn’t seen me in ages.

“Dylan… Ugh… are you crazy…?” I muttered weakly. “Jesus Christ… Mmmm… Dylan, we are in… ohhh… school bathroom… Oh, God… Knock it… Ahh… off… Dylan, someone will… Oh my God…”

As I mentioned before, he knew every single button of mine, and God help me, he was pushing all of them at once right now. Of course, now I wasn’t even remotely sleepy. All my common sense promptly dissolved into nothing, and I dropped my backpack on the floor next to his, and sank my fingers into his hair.

Then I felt him undoing my belt buckle, and instead of stopping him (because that would be a very sensible thing to do), I helped him. I knew that we would be in some very deep shit if someone walked in on us, and I didn’t care. I wanted him right then and there, and nothing else mattered.

He kicked off his sneakers and pants with envious speed and skill, and then he pushed me down onto the toilet. I wanted him so badly that my head was spinning. I guess he felt the same, because his entire body kept shaking. He wrapped himself around me without wasting any time on foreplay – we didn’t need one right then. I was trapped in the circle of his arms and legs, and I had no choice but just follow his rhythm. I wouldn’t let go of his lips; I kept drinking him while he was riding my hips. He started whimpering into my mouth a little bit later, and I knew that he wasn’t gonna last much longer.

That was when someone walked into the damn bathroom. Of course, we should’ve just stopped moving and be quiet until whoever the hell that was, left finally – that would be another sensible thing to do – but we were at the point when stopping became an absolute impossibility. The best we could manage was to try to shut up, and move as quietly as possible. I wasn’t worrying that someone would be able to see us – the walls were pretty high, and there was no way someone could look underneath them either. The thing I did worry about, however, was the fact that Dylan could get beyond vocal. I had no idea if he could actually control himself enough to stay quiet.

I shut him up with my mouth as well as I possibly could. Whoever was in the bathroom, sounded like they were completely oblivious to the fact that there was somebody in the stall next to them. I started thinking that maybe it’ll turn out just fine. Maybe they will leave before the grand finale. That was when Dylan yanked my hair so hard that I had tears in my eyes. Well, shit, I thought. Every time he pulled my hair like that, was right before he was about to climax, and every time he climaxed, he would start contracting on me worse than a malfunctioning Chinese finger trap. Even in the normal settings, it was beyond difficult for me to control myself when he did that, and right now it would be downright impossible.

Sure enough, everything went just like I expected it to. To my disbelief, he was actually almost completely silent. He was gasping air like no other, but he didn’t even moan – that was amazing. I had no idea he could control himself enough to do that. Then the contractions came; and then I felt like I was hit by a speeding freight train. I shoved my fist into my mouth to shut myself up. I convulsed until my ears were ringing, my eyes squeezed shut, teeth locked on my knuckles. Dylan pressed harder against me, and that made both of us hiss at the same time.

Moans or no moans, I knew that by now, it was pretty obvious to whoever was in the bathroom what was going on in this stall. I mean, you had to be a complete moron not to figure it out. I was silently praying in my head that they would just let us be, and get the hell out of the bathroom already. To my enormous relief, I heard the toilet flush, the faucet run after a couple of seconds, and then there was a sweet sound of the door closing. Oh, thank God! I slowly pulled my fist out of my mouth, feeling slightly dizzy and lightheaded. Dylan wrapped himself even tighter around me, his face buried in my hair. I slowly kissed his collarbone, and he moaned in appreciation. I had to admit, this was one of the greatest experiences in my life, despite all the “Oh-My-God-We-Are-So-Screwed!!” horror.

My common sense was somewhat back now that my blood flow didn’t limit itself to just one particular point in my body, so after we cleaned up and got dressed, I told Dylan to get out of the bathroom first, alone, just in case. He didn’t argue and did just that. I waited five minutes and followed him. To my greatest relief, the hallway was completely empty. It seemed like the entire floor was deserted. I looked at my watch and realized that we had enough time for a smoke before the next class. He waited for me on the stairs.

We went outside, hid behind the wall, smoked in peace and quiet, and the rest of the day was great. Seriously, nothing gives you a boost of energy like a furious explosion of raw lust in a deserted bathroom. That and fear of being caught. I had to admit, that only heightened the peak for me, and I knew that it was the same deal for Dylan. He didn’t even have to say anything – his eyes were so serene that it made me laugh.