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    Andr0gene
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Confounded: Part II - 3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 --==Kit’s POV==--

Once we got back home, I helped Taylan bring the groceries inside, and after we were done I excused myself to my room, to do some studying, but for some reason, I couldn’t keep my head with it.

What I told Taylan in the car was true; I hadn’t met anyone interesting enough yet. And sometimes I found myself being jealous at him and dad. Just for a moment, that little pang of green when I saw them together, kiss or hug or even sit together on the couch; Taylan leaning against my dad while dad’s arm was around him; the absentminded caress as dad watched sports while Taylan read or watched with it him (rare!). At those times, I wished I had someone of my own to feel against me, to absentmindedly caress, to kiss and hug.

I remember one time when Tay had to stay at the hospital overnight, after acute appendicitis; Dad wouldn’t sleep in bed without him and spent the night on the couch. It wasn’t life-threatening, but Dad was somewhere else mentally that day and seeing him like that, that he loved Taylan that much? That’s what I wanted too. Selfish, perhaps, and some might even think it mushy; sue me. It’s what I want; maybe even what I need. I need to feel wanted and loved. I know I am, in this family, but that’s not the same. I’d like it a bit more exclusive; for me alone.

Was I stupid for wanting that? I’m only eighteen. Was it too early? Was I mistaking lust, the wish to be with a guy, hold him and be with him, for love? After all, it’s generally assumed that when you’re my age, you don’t know what love is. Apparently you have to go through all kinds of difficulty and drama before knowing it.

That’s stupid reasoning. I love my dad. I love Taylan. It’s a different kind of love, yes, but love nonetheless, and I didn’t have to go through any particular difficulty to feel that. It just is. So why would it be so hard to have that with someone else? To have something that just is. Why do people make it so difficult? And why do people treat it like only they know what it is? Pffft!

I believe you can fall in love, no matter what age you are, because it’s not just the physical attraction; it’s what comes with all that. The desire to protect someone from harm. Missing them when they’re not around, and the happiness when they are. Be with them, intimately, on both physical and emotional levels.

Maybe I’m thinking too much about it. Maybe Gary, my best friend, was right: maybe I am an old soul in a young body. Quite frankly, I don’t really care for what people think I should have to feel or do, when it comes to love. If I have sappy ideas about it, so what? I know what I want.

Guys.

The color of their eyes, their voice. Muscled legs, gleaming with sweat. The scent of it and their bodies, pure male. I’d come to find that a slight five-o’clock shadow gave my body serious signals and these days, I had full blown erotic dreams, featuring me and some guy I’d seen at college or a store, engaged in all sorts of sexual encounters. Every time I woke with an erection as hard as steel, and I’d jerk off to that dream, or fantasy. My libido had shot through the roof, lately.

I knew my type as well: somewhat nerdy and chaotic, around Taylan’s height, athletic, no tattoos or earrings or any other jewelry (that turned me off, for some reason, especially those black leather bands with beads), a good dresser (I found that I liked it when they wore those skin-hugging t-shirts and jeans, tight in the right places), a great smile, and he had to have eyes with warmth in them, and depth. Light brown was my favorite. And if he had a small butt and a cocky gait, he definitely had my interest.

Had to love kids. I dunno why that was a thing but he had to. I love kids; they’re funny and playful and I’d spent hours with my youngest niece India, Aunt Gemini’s first. Someday I wanted kids. My partner and I would find someone to carry him or her. Actually, I’d prefer a boy and if it could be done, twins. We’d raise them like Tay and dad had raised me. My partner would stay home and I’d be providing.

Rolling onto my stomach, biting the top of the pencil, I sighed; this last chapter was hard to get through, especially with my mind wandering off like this.

I couldn’t wait to find someone and have all of that with him. It almost hurt, that wanting. Maybe Tay was right; I should go out there. Step out of my comfort zone and just…find him.

Easier said, or thought, than done.

andr0gene 2005-present
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

As said elsewhere, you're reading it too literally. It doesn't mean they can't go out and work, or do whatever they wanna do. It's meant to convey there will be someone at home at the end of the day, even when his dad is traveling for work. Kit knows what the deal between his parents is and why he can't come to live with his dad. It's no strange thought, considering he's living it. 

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