Bloodlines - 21. Chapter 21

October 7, 1998

We were headed to the Ice Oasis for a Wednesday night game. There weren't many weeknight games, which was a good thing since they weren't nearly as much fun as the weekend games. Asking students from a school as tough as Stanford to take a couple of hours away from studying to come watch a hockey game was a tough sell, so not many people showed up to them. They were experimenting this year, holding them a little later, so this one had an 8:30 pm start. I personally didn't think it would make a shit's worth of difference, but it didn't really matter to me. I'd just zone the crowd out and enjoy playing.

“I'm sorry I haven't been around much,” Cole said. He'd been basically living with Amber. He came back to our room to shower and change, but that was it. Fiona's family was loaded, and she'd whined about dorm living so much her family had gotten her an apartment off-campus. Since she had to live in the dorms, she just kept her room and paid for it. Lucky Amber got a double all to herself, only she'd ended up with Cole staying with her instead.

“It's OK. You don't say much even when you're there.” I flashed him a quick smile to let him know that I was joking.

“You're not mad at me?”

“Dude, I like you. I like having you around. But you two seem really into each other and I think that's awesome. I'm happy for you. Do your thing. I'm still your friend.” I kept looking at him while I was talking so he knew I was sincere, but that meant I had to take my eyes off the road and that freaked him out. He seemed surprised that anyone was still alive in California, what with how we all drive.

“I just don't want to be a bad friend.” I thought for about the zillionth time what a great guy, what a caring person lay behind that silent exterior.

“It's no big deal. Danfield keeps eying your bed though. Cramer keeps him awake and it makes him bitchy,” I joked. Danfield and Cramer got along really well except for Cramer's snoring, and Danfield really was starting to lose it.

“S'OK with me if he sleeps there,” Cole said.

“So that means you're not coming back at all?” I joked. He kind of freaked and then gave me a playful little grin.

“If I do, I'll just sleep with you.”

“Prick tease,” I shot back.

We got to the locker room and found that none of us were in good moods, so talk was limited. The most common sound was a grumpy sort of growling. I didn't know about the other guys, but I knew I was fucking buried with work. I should have gone to a state school and just played hockey and fucked around. And as if to match our mood, the game sucked. We were playing Loyola Marymount, and what should have been a walkover for us was, as the second period wound down, tied at zero.

I came off the ice after a lackluster shift. The coach told me I sucked and I knew he was right. What the fuck was wrong with us? These fucking Wednesday games, that's what it was, I decided, subconsciously noting how I'd thus absolved us of all guilt for our shitty performance. I figured I'd be on the bench for the last few minutes of the period so I gave myself permission to look in the stands. There, in the middle of the rink where they usually were when they came to see a game, were JP and Stef.

Only something was wrong, very wrong. I felt the adrenaline surge, keyed up with a whole new emotion: fear. Stef was crying, and JP kept trying to console him but it was no good. Brad was here! I saw him standing next to Stef, putting his arm around him too. Robbie walked up to them and handed Stef a tissue, and then he handed one to Brad too. Brad was crying? What the fuck happened? Something horrible, something fucking unbelievably horrible had happened.

I looked around, trying to figure out how to escape, but we were stuck on the bench. The only exit was across the ice, and the game was flowing hot and heavy around us. I had to get over there, had to find out what was wrong. I stood by the bench, looking at the gate across the ice as a drowning man looks at a raft. Now Robbie had his arm around Brad's shoulder. Fuck. I had to get over there. Was it one of the kids? They wouldn't be here if it was, unless they were here to get me. Maybe one of Claire's kids? I'd lost all rational thought, sure that I was going to implode if I couldn't get over there. I moved down to where the coach was.

“Coach, I gotta go.”

“I'm fucking busy Carrswold. You're not going anywhere. Sit your ass down,” he growled.

“I gotta go,” I said to him simply, and then I was saved by another Stanford fuck up. Gillespie passed the puck forward to Turner only it was a bad pass and Turner was playing just as bad as the rest of us, so the puck blew past him and we ended up with an icing call. The whistle blew, play stopped, and I was over to the other side like lightning.

“Carrswold!” the coach yelled but I ignored him. I ripped across the ice and tore open the door, thankfully remembering to close it behind me. I stood there in the 'tunnel', looking up at them. I had my skates on so I couldn't go into the stands. Or could I? Fuck it. I clomped up the stairs, my blades grinding against the steps.

“Hey, you can't go in the stands with your skates,” a rink guy said. I ignored him and he grabbed my jersey, but I just ripped his hand off and pushed him back. He must have seen the look in my eyes, because he left me alone. Robbie saw me then and rushed down to see me.

“What's wrong?” I asked, before he could say anything.

“That guy you met in Laramie, remember him?” Robbie asked.

“Yeah. Matt Shepard. Cool dude. What happened?”

“He was beaten up really bad and left to die in the middle of fucking Wyoming,” Robbie said. I just stared at him, not really getting it. I guess my psyche is so cold that my first thought was kind of calm. I kind of looked around, not really getting it, and then it hit me. Visions of Matthew, of his cute smile, the playful twinkle in his eyes, the sweet young guy who had totally enjoyed me, whom I'd totally enjoyed. Now I wasn't calm, I was stunned.

“You said left to die. He's alive?” I asked.

Robbie looked like he was trying to decide whether to tell me the truth or bullshit me. I gave him a pretty severe look to help him make up his mind. “He's alive, but it doesn't look good. JP managed to talk to someone at the hospital.” I didn't even pause to consider how he might have done that.

Robbie led me out to the lobby where there was a big television. It was an old, rear-projection TV and the colors weren't good, but there was no mistaking the picture of Matthew Shepard on the screen. I stood there watching the television, getting sadder and more pissed as I watched the news report. “Matthew Shepard was brutally beaten and left to die. Investigators think he may have been tied to a farm fence for over twelve hours before he was found and rushed to a hospital. He's currently in intensive care.”

Brutally beaten? Who could do such a thing? I remembered that cowboy bar and how worried I'd been that someone like Matthew could get his ass kicked. He'd been so sure that no one would hurt him, so confident that human nature was basically good. Such a trusting, happy guy. Just the kind of guy some total prick would pick on. The thought of some guy doing that to him, the thought of a fist slamming into Matt and taking his happy grin away, ignited a rage in me I never knew existed. I felt my emotions boiling, and it was so intense I was scaring myself. I had to hit something, anything, and there in front of me was the picture of Laramie Wyoming. The place that did this to him.

Before I could stop myself, I slammed my fist through the television. That was fortunate for me in two ways; although I was too mentally fucked up to really think about them. The first was that I still had my gloves on, so I didn't get all cut up from the Plexiglas screen. The second was that the sound of shattering plastic had a big enough effect that it helped me vent my rage. I just turned to Robbie and collapsed into his arms.

The rink manager was yelling across the room and his voice was getting closer, rightfully pissed at me for fucking up his TV. I pulled away from Robbie to face the music for that, but Brad was there, cutting him off, calming him, and shoving money into his hands to pay for a new one. I guess that was the third fortunate thing. This shitty rink would end up with a new television.

Stef was there now, and I broke away from Robbie to hug him. He just collapsed into me, and the feeling was disturbing because it was the same thing Matthew had done the first time I'd kissed him in my hotel room. “This is so horrible,” he said. “So horrible.” I cried with him for what seemed like a long time, and then I slowly began to put the pieces of my shattered psyche back together.

“I'm going to go change. Can you guys give me a few minutes?” I asked.

“Take your time,” Robbie said. “We'll wait for you, even though we won't be able to get any news updates.” He nodded toward the broken TV and we almost grinned at each other, the slight bit of humor being somewhat restorative. I walked into the locker room to find the coach reaming everyone out for playing shitty.

“Carrswold, what the fuck did you think you were doing? You're on the bench for the next five games. No! You're not even dressing. Running off the fucking ice like that,” he ranted. But the guys had seen my expression, and they were focused on us, on our lives, not just the game.

As befitted his role as Captain, Turner spoke, interrupting the coach, something he'd probably pay for as well. “What happened, Matt?” he asked. His voice was so gentle it threatened to make me emotional all over again. And that was the first time he'd called me Matt.

“A friend of the family was beaten to within an inch of his life and tied to a fence in the middle of the country and left to die. They found him over twelve hours after it happened and rushed him to the hospital. He's in intensive care, but it doesn't look good,” I said, spitting my words at the coach, pissed at him for being so focused on the game that he didn't give a shit about us. “I have to go.”

I started pulling my gear off, frantic now to transform into a civilian. “Go ahead and go Carrswold. We'll try to lose this one without you,” the coach growled. The team glared at him, the closest thing to mutiny you'd get in a hockey locker room.

I was changed in less than five minutes, no mean feat considering all the gear we have to wear. I gave Cole my keys. “Don't wreck my baby.” He nodded, and then gave me a big hug. The rest of the guys clapped me warmly on the back as I walked out of the locker room. It was hard to see these men acting so awesome, and then turn around and think that there were other men who could do something as horrible as what they did to Matthew.

October 8, 1998

I went through the motions today, so numb I couldn't feel anything. If I felt, I felt Matthew, and then the sadness and anger were unbearable. I'd spent the night at Escorial, which was probably a mistake because we all just sat around morbidly being sad. Then there were the nightmares, the ones where I saw a guy beating the shit out of Matthew but I was tied up, I couldn't help, I could only watch him meet his fate.

My first class was English Lit, and we were doing a poetry section. Poetry was something I didn't do, or at least didn't do well. I didn't appreciate it at all. People in class would wax on and on about how wonderful Keats and Shelley were, or marvel in ee cummings, but it had no meaning to me. After I endured that and history, I gave myself permission to blow off my afternoon lab and just head to my room. Only once I got there, I didn't have anything to do, or anything that I wanted to do.

I looked at my book bag meaningfully, but it was no good. I had no desire to do any homework. I just didn't give a fuck. I called Stef to see if there was any news on Matthew; he'd flown up there this morning. His time with Matthew must have been pretty magical, because he was pretty wounded by the whole thing. I listened to him cry more than anything, only to find out that Matthew was the same. Not good.

There was a knock on the door and then it opened. We kind of had a code about that. You knocked and walked in, you didn't have to wait for an answer. If you were with someone, or beating off, you locked the door. I saw Turner walk in, his handsome face always a happy sight. He was a senior, and at the age of 22 he looked strangely out of place in the freshman dorms. “You're livin' large,” he said, nodding at my plasma TV. “Lucky they didn't make you put that one in the rink.”

This guy was such a hunk it was impossible to be miserable with him in the room. “Might have happened, but Brad bought them a new one for me.”

“You doing OK?” he asked, as he sat on the bed next to me.

“Not really. This whole thing sucks,” I said, letting him see how miserable I was, even if only for a few seconds.

“It was that Matthew Shepard guy?” he asked.

“Yeah. I met him in Laramie a couple of months ago. He was such a cool dude.” I was already talking about him in the past tense, like he was already dead. I felt so guilty and that let my emotions surge: fuck, I was crying again. I felt Turner's arms around me as he pulled me to him and pulled me back onto the bed, just holding me as I cried like a fucking baby.

“So you hooked up with him?” he asked. He was a sharp guy. He'd waited until I'd all but exhausted myself then threw that out to get me to change my focus away from Matt’s beating and on to the guy I'd known.

“Yeah. Just one night, but it was awesome. He loved to get fucked, just loved it, but he didn't trust many people to do it. He trusted me though. Lots of times,” I joked. “I'm sorry; you probably didn't want to hear anything that graphic.”

“I asked you didn't I? So you fucked him huh?” And with that the whole atmosphere in the room changed. It wasn't Turner here comforting me, it was Turner here trying to get in my pants.

“Yeah. You ever fucked another guy?” I asked him. I looked up at him when I said that and moved my body closer to his, letting my left leg move up and brush across his groin. He was as hard as a rock.

“Never done that,” he said. He looked down at me, our eyes meeting.

“Before,” I said, almost a whisper.

“Yeah, before,” he said, and moved his mouth down, down to meet mine. He turned his body so we were on our sides, facing each other, then he turned again, so I was on my back and he was on top of me. He was a good kisser, and he was really cute, but he was playing me just like I was a chick. I pulled off my shirt and he played with my nipples and sucked on them, just like he'd do with a chick. I felt him getting more and more fired up as he ground into me, so I pushed him off of me and onto his back.

He looked at me, surprised, until I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper. Now he was smiling, lifting his hips to let me slide them off, pants and boxers. A nice cock flopped out, about six inches and normal width. I moved my mouth up his now naked thighs, appreciating his huge leg muscles, until I got to his balls. They were really big and hanging really low. I latched on to them, sucking on one, then the other, and then I opened wide and took both of them into my mouth at the same time. I could tell by his moans that he was proud of these monster testicles, and he loved all the attention I was paying to them.

But I wanted to taste his cock, so I led them pop out of my mouth and I moved up to swallow his hard dick. He gasped when I did, and just let me work my magic. I could taste his salty essence as he spewed out pre-cum, then I felt him tense up, grunt loudly, and blast his load into my mouth. He grabbed my head and pulled me down onto his cock as he did, jamming it in the back of my throat so his load shot straight down my throat. I choked, but the gag reflex just stimulated him even more. It kind of pissed me off that he'd do that, that he'd cram his dick down my throat like that, but this was Turner, so I forgave him.

“Fuck,” he said, panting. “Damn you're good.”

My ego soared. “I'm only as good as the tool I'm working with,” I said sluttily. He chuckled.

“Sorry I did that, slammed my dick down your throat. I guess I kind of lost it.”

“It's cool. Makes me nervous though, about what you'll do when I really rock your world,” I teased.

“When you really rock my world? Right. It doesn't get any better,” he said.

“Dude, you have no idea,” I said.

“I should get going,” he said. I guess I expected that, but it was still disappointing.

“That's cool. Come back some time and let me take you to another planet,” I joked.

“You got an alien spaceship in here?” he joked.

I stood up, my dick tenting out of my shorts. “Yep. You wanna feel it?” He made to but I slapped him away. “Next time.” He gave me a big hug and left. I still felt like shit about Matthew, but Turner had eased a little bit of the pain. And then I knew that while alcohol and drugs would dull the pain, they wouldn't do it nearly as well as sex.

I shut my door and headed down the hall, wearing just my shorts, carrying only my key. I paused at Amber's room and thought about interrupting them, seeing if they'd still be up for a threesome, but I put that aside quickly. They were a couple now, and if they decided they wanted to play, they'd have to invite me. Two doors down, though, I found my solution.

Konrad had his door open and was lying on his bed looking sexy as hell. He was wearing shorts only, just like me. “Hey there, you busy?” I asked.

“Not for you,” he said, smiling at me. I walked in and shut and locked the door behind me.

“I need a favor,” I said.

“You name it,” he said.

“Fuck me,” I told him. He grinned and stood up, his dick already tenting out. We shed our shorts and he pushed me onto my stomach. I felt him lube me and push in, no real foreplay but I didn't need it. I was so fucking fired up from Turner I damn near shot my load just looking at him. And unfortunately, I was so keyed up I blasted after about his third thrust into me, the prostate stimulation combined with the feel of my cock rubbing against his bed was too much.

He kissed the back of my neck, and started to pull out. “No,” I said, reaching around to grab his ass. “Keep going.” Even though I'd blown, I was so fired up I wanted more.

“It's no big deal dude,” he said. “I blew a wad not too long ago. All by myself.” I laughed, and then got serious.

“You feel so good. Fuckin' keep going,” I ordered.

“You like my dick in your ass that much?” he cooed into my ear. God, he could be sexy when he wanted to be.

“Yeah,” I panted. I felt my body recharging even as he pistoned in and out of me, and it was like he was pumping me up like I was a flat tire. He was working hard, really working me. “Feels so good Konrad,” I said, encouraging him. His sweat dripped between his abdomen and my back, making us slide erotically against each other.

He pulled out of me and rolled me over. “I wanna watch you blow this time,” he said in his husky voice. He pushed back in me and I just threw my head back, letting him fuck the shit out of me. I felt myself getting close, which kind of surprised me. It seemed to come on all of a sudden. Then I started blowing my second load while Konrad just looked down at me and smiled, watching me blast all over my chest. Then he pulled out and stroked his cock fast. I stared at him, enthralled as he shot his load all over me. I was covered with his load and mine.

He looked down at me and laughed. “You look like such a slut.” I took the towel he handed me, wiped off all the cum, and then threw the towel at him. “Nasty,” he said.

“Thanks Konrad. You're the man.” I headed back to my room and crashed, and tonight I actually fell asleep and stayed asleep. No nightmares.

October 10, 1998

I was tired of being alone and miserable. The miserable came from thinking about Matthew, the alone came from having no one around. That wasn't technically true, the dorms were full of people. But even though I had only to walk to one of the rooms on my floor to find someone to hang with, I felt strangely isolated. So to find some solace in the company of others, I decided to head up to Escorial for dinner.

I drove up to the gates and they opened automatically, of course. I looked at my watch and noticed it was 6:55, so I hurried in back to park and noticed a familiar car there. Justin was visiting. I parked the GMC so it blocked his car, and then hurried through the house, making it into the dining room just as the clock finished striking seven.

“Matthew,” JP said cordially. “Welcome! What a pleasant surprise!” Everyone seemed happy to see me except Brian, who was visibly nervous. He should be.

“Hey Justin, good to see you,” I said, leering at him.

“Nice to see you too,” he said, blushing. JP looked at me, as if trying to figure out what kind of trouble I was planning.

“You think we can spend some time together after dinner?” I asked in my sluttiest voice. Isidore looked at me curiously. She liked drama almost as much as Stef did.

“He came here to see me,” Brian said, his bitchy mode back and in full force.

“Well, it seems that a couple of weeks ago Cody came up to see me and that didn't stop you from having sex with him, so I figured that if it was OK for you to do that, it would be OK for us,” I said flatly. Justin glared at Brian.

“You were with him a few weeks ago? After you promised me that you weren't, that you wouldn't be?” Justin demanded. I sat back and started eating. Isidore looked at me, her eyes smiling, while JP tried to give me a dirty look but couldn't quite pull it off.

“That was before we worked things out,” Brian objected.

“We worked things out on September 23,” Justin said. It was so cute the way he remembered it, yet sad that he was so devoted to a slime ball. “We went up to the City that night for dinner, remember? And you promised me that we were together, just you and me, and that you wouldn't, uh, be with him again.” He said this to Brian but he was looking at me.

“Well, I interrupted Cody and Brian having sex after our first game against Cal. Let me see,” I said, pulling out my pocket calendar. I didn't need to look, I knew exactly what day it was, but I wanted to drill Brian into the ground. “That was a Friday, the 25th.”

Justin glared at Brian then stood up. “Excuse me, please.” He stormed out of the room, furious, with Brian trailing after him.

“I'm not sure that was the nicest thing to do,” JP said cautiously. Where was Brad when I needed him?

“I do not think Matt is to blame if Brian cannot live up to his promises and commitments,” Isidore said calmly. Everyone looked at JP.

“No, I don't suppose he is,” JP said.

“When will Stef be home?” I asked, changing the subject to one that was much worse.

“He's determined to be there until, uh, for as long as he needs to be,” JP said. He was going to say 'until Matthew dies' but caught himself. The mood changed to one that was considerably more somber. Still, dinner was nice, and I felt better having fucked up Brian's life. I finished dinner and was about to head down to my room and hang out when Justin caught me in the hall.

“Hey, I've been waiting for you. Can you move your truck so I can get the fuck out of here?” he asked, really pissed off.

I ignored him and walked to my room with him chasing after me. “Come on Matt, I need to get home.” He followed me into my room and I closed and locked the door after him. “Oh no, we're not going there.”

“You want me to move my SUV or not?” I asked.

“Fuck!” he said, almost a yell. “Just move your truck!”

I got in his face then, and he backed up quickly, he even looked a little scared. “No. Not until you fuck me.” I reached out and grabbed him, pulling him to me, then I grabbed the hair on the back of his head hard enough to make it hurt and pulled his mouth to mine. He fought me, but only for a second. Then it was just like last time. Justin was the kind of guy that once he got fired up, he was really into it. Last time he'd been almost submissive, but this time he was pissed off. He worked off his aggressions by really fucking me, not in a tentative way, but in an assertive way, and it was awesome.

Only after we were done, unlike last time, he didn't want to linger, he just wanted to go. We put on our clothes and headed down the hall. “Let me just say goodbye to JP so I can leave too.” That would save me from moving my GMC, then going back inside, then coming out and leaving. He nodded. We headed to JP's study and heard voices. Brian was in there, bitching about me. Justin and I stood there and listened.

“He is ruining my life,” Brian whined. “I finally work things out with Justin and he comes in and accuses me of cheating with Cody.”

“Brian, you were cheating with Cody,” JP said coolly.

“Justin didn't have to know that,” Brian said petulantly. Before I could stop him Justin surged into the room.

“Yes he did,” Justin said. I was right behind him, just in time to see Brian shit a brick. “I really thought we had something special Brian, but you're not into me, you're just using me. I'm not going to be your backup for when Cody decides he doesn't want you. We're done.” He turned around and stormed out.

“I'll see you on campus JP,” I said simply, and took off after Justin.

“Now will you move your fucking truck?” Justin demanded.

“Yeah. You know, you were pretty impressive in there, standing up to him like that. You may just be finally growing a spine,” I teased. He glared at me, and then smiled a little. “You got my phone number still?”

“Yeah,” he said shyly.

“Well I'm not going to lead you on, but if you want to get together and fuck and have a good time, call me,” I said.

“OK,” he said. I hopped in the GMC and left, freeing Justin at the same time.

October 12, 1998

I wasn't sleeping when the phone rang, even though I could have been. I figured I'd ended up on someone's booty call list and at 1:00am, they'd decided I was the one. I was wrong. I looked at the caller-id and saw that it was Stef and knew what was coming. “Hey Stef,” I said glumly.

“He is dead,” Stef said in between sobs. “I wanted to tell you. He fought so hard, so fucking hard.” I didn't say anything, there wasn't anything to say. “I need to call JP, but I wanted you to know first since you shared such an intimate experience with him.”

“Thanks Stef,” I said, my voice choked up. I hung up and found the sadness returning; only it wasn't as intense or as debilitating. I tried to figure out why the news of Matthew's death didn't hit me as hard as the news he'd been hurt, and I finally decided that I had been planning for this, mourning his death these past few days, and that's why. I dried my eyes and headed down to the bathroom to take a piss before going to bed.

I was headed back to my room and heard funny noises from the student lounge. I peeked in and there was Danfield, curled up in a chair, trying to sleep while bitching and grumbling. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” I asked, laughing at him.

“I'm trying to sleep, dumb ass,” he said in a pissed off tone of voice.

“Come on,” I said, holding out my hand to help him up.

“What?” he asked.

“Come on. You can sleep with me,” I told him. He looked at me and his eyes got really big. I couldn't tell if he was freaked out or vaguely excited by the idea, which made me laugh pretty hard. “Dude, you can sleep in Cole's bed. He's not using it anyway.”

He took my hand and I pulled him up, and then led him back to my room. “What if he comes back?” Danfield asked.

“He's got a big dick. I'll leave some lube next to the bed so it doesn't hurt too badly,” I joked.

“Very fucking funny,” he said.

“He won't come back. I told him you might crash here and he's cool with it,” I told him.

“Thanks man,” he said. “I am so tired and fucking crabby. I haven't slept well in days.”

“Well I won't rape you tonight then,” I told him.

“I'll be too out of it to even notice. Just make sure I enjoy it, OK?” he joked. I decided to go to bed too, and we both stripped down to our boxers. I tried to ignore how cute he was and just climbed into bed. In no time at all he was sleeping, his breathing loud and rhythmic. Just having him there made me feel like I wasn't alone, and let me put the horrible vision of Matthew's murder out of my head.