Prophylaxis - 7. Chapter 7

I rifled through my bags looking for my good luck undies. They were silky and shiny and clung to me in all the right places. It was a nice confidence booster when I was out. They were comfy as hell, too.

There they were, little bastards.

I held them up triumphantly then sighed, dropping them to my lap. What was I doing? Going out to get fucked when I still had marks from that son of a bitch? I wasn't even sure I'd be able to go through with it. It would be just fucking sublime to go to the trouble of finding someone interesting, then when we got down to business there was a chance I'd freak and run like a bunny rabbit. Shit, maybe I should stop arguing when Mom and Grandma called me 'conejito'.

I guessed I could top instead of bottom, that would be less stressful. I gripped the soft fabric in my fist. Fuck that, I liked bottoming. I wanted to get laid, I was going to get laid. I wasn't going to let that dipshit control my life anymore, especially this part of my life.

I liked sex... a lot. When done right, it's fun and felt good. If I was lucky it felt amazing. Unfortunately, it's also a bit of a minefield for me. I hated that it had to be so fucking complicated. I felt like such a high maintenance little bitch. Shirt on or lights off was just the first thing that came up when I fooled around. I didn't think I'd ever be able to have a long-term, serious relationship with a guy for the simple fact that I'd probably need to draw up a nice long contract for my do's and don'ts and quirks in the bedroom. What a fucking turn-off. For one-night stands or short-term flings I could usually keep everything steering in the right direction and away from 'Oh Hell, no' territory.

If I stayed with one guy too long he inevitably started pushing my boundaries. He'd want to peek under my shirt. He'd want to know why we couldn't sixty-nine with him on top, why it's okay to pull my hair hard but not push on the back of my neck during a blowjob, why I liked to be held down or tied up except in certain very specific ways. I couldn't, or if I was honest wouldn't, explain that I'm pretty cool with most sexual positions except being bent face-down over any piece of furniture, and that the reason was because that was my step-dad's favorite way to fuck me. He especially liked the desk in my bedroom, maybe it was a good height or something. I don't know how many times my chest would be pressed tight against that slick wood with him grunting behind me, telling me to be quiet because my sister's room was on the other side of the wall in front of us. Fucking asshole. Usually it was my desk, but not always. He'd bent me over and pressed my face into beds, couches, tables, counters, a picnic table, and once the trunk of his cruiser. He'd had it parked in the garage for some reason instead of it being at the station. It was his favorite position. Honestly, I'm kind of glad he was so dedicated to it. It wasn't that hard to avoid during sex, most of the time.

Strangely enough, in general, giving blowjobs didn't bother me. I only really got panicky if the guy was on top of me or he grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me to take him deeper than I was comfortable with. Luckily I didn't have much of a gag reflex. Go me. The actual sucking didn't seem to trigger me at all. I loved sucking a man off. The shape and feel of him in my mouth, against my tongue and palate was wonderful. I liked making them groan and pant, or looking up through my lashes to catch their eyes while they watched me lick and suck. Maybe it's weird that I liked the power-trip of reducing these men to a moaning twitching heap incapable of speech. So fun.

I'd gotten a few unpleasant thrills over the years, where I'd ended up in a panic-inducing position. The most common whoopsies were letting myself be unexpectedly bent over something or having a guy try to be on top for a blowjob or sixty-nine. Usually they let me up when I started protesting or freaking out. Only a handful wouldn't stop.

Rapey bastards.

After those times, I'd haul myself home to lick my wounds. Maybe I'd cut a little deeper for a few days, maybe need a few pills or booze or pot. I'd avoid sex for a few months until I got myself back together. When I got that itch again I'd be extra careful when I looked to scratch it.

I refused to let an overly pushy douche-canoe keep me from enjoying sex, though. It had been too much work to get to where I was to go back. After shit went down when I was younger, fucking around wasn't anywhere near an option for a long time. First I was too locked up, then I was too fucked up. I missed too much school to graduate with my class, so Mom hooked me up with a local alternative high school. The program was based on one they'd done at Kirkwood Community College out of Cedar Rapids. It would give me an actual diploma and grade point, not a GED. They let us work as quickly or slowly as we needed to. I was smug as shit when I graduated half a year early. My old high school could suck it.

It wasn't until I started college that I thought I might want to try a few games of grope and fondle with someone other than my hand. Over my lifetime there have been a few girls that caught my eye and turned my head. Most didn't do much for me, though. Nothing wrong with the ladies, they just didn't fire me up. That said, the thought of fucking a guy or, god forbid, letting another guy fuck me was enough to make my skin turn to ice and my heart climb into my esophagus. I was terrified.

I decided to start with girls. Girls were soft, nonthreatening, and I was stronger than most of them. They were also startlingly non-rapey. Maybe I was just lucky, but when I was with a woman, if I ever said 'stop' or 'wait' they did. Most were cool with slowing down, some were pissy, but they all stopped. The first time it happened I was ridiculously amazed. I'd expected to have to forcefully push her away from me. She'd just stopped what she was doing and asked me if I was okay.

That was Jeannie Sullivan. Such a sweet girl. Fucking hard to get her to orgasm though, Jesus.

I discovered in college that all it takes to get laid regularly is to hang with the right crowd, one that was aggressively determined to have fun. It would preferably be drunk sexy fun that would never be revealed to parents and could keep a person from ever becoming president if the photos were found. I wasn't really attracted to any of the girls, but they were attracted to me and that's what mattered. If I could get her turned on, then as soon as I touched her skin I'd be turned on too. If I could get her aroused enough, I could get hard enough to fuck her. If I could get her to orgasm, I could come. Maybe the whole thing was a bit clinical and strange, looking back on it, but it seemed to work for me. With my empathy I knew what felt good to them and what didn't. The women seemed to like that I never came before them, they sometimes complimented me that I was thoughtful and generous as a lover. If they only knew. I probably used them, and I should probably feel guilty about that. I'm still friends with some of them. They were always very cool women, and they weren't looking for something serious any more than I was.

So, I c0uld have sex, but the whole business was somehow unsatisfying. I could get aroused, have sex, and have an orgasm without twitching out. I started noticing that I wasn't shying away quite so much when I saw a good-looking guy.

I did two years through Kirkwood Community College and got my associate's before going on to a four year school. I wasn't brave enough to let a guy touch me sexually until I was at the University of Iowa in Iowa City. I started out the way most high schoolers start, with fumbling and kissing, I was just starting late. UI has had the dubious distinction of often being in the top five party schools in the US. We even made number one once or twice. Go Hawks. There was no shortage of parties with tipsy freshmen wanting to experiment a little, maybe not as far as sex, but definitely heavy petting. It was perfect for me. Being what I am, it was probably quite a bit easier for me to find them. Candy from a baby.

I couldn't stand to be inside at a big party, too many people feeling too many things. I'd linger outside and keep my mental feelers out for anyone looking at me with interest. When I felt it I'd check them out and see if they were what I was looking for, namely younger or smaller than me and not entirely sure they were gay or bi. The first I could see, the second I could feel. That interested hesitancy seemed to hover around them, kissing me with little tendrils of want. If the boy was what I was looking for I'd flash him a come-hither smile and try to chat him up. I'd stay sober but pretend to be tipsy. Then I'd try to find somewhere a bit more private to be alone with him.

It was with a guy named Shane that I finally wanted to go past heavy petting. I don't think I ever knew his last name. I do know that he made some of the most delicious noises when I had him pressed up against a tree twenty yards from the party I'd lured him from. Maybe he'd lured me, or there was mutual lurid luring going on. I didn't fucking care. All that mattered was his body under my hands and his gasping breaths when I touched him. There wasn't enough light to make out his eye color, but that didn't stop me from feeling them burning into me. I kissed him bruisingly hard, feeling desperate as I shoved my hand under his shirt. Shane liked things a bit rough, I felt his desire for it pulling at me. I touched him, and I wanted to give him what he wanted. When my hands reached his chest something clinked against my fingernail. Fuck, he had a nipple pierced. I yanked his shirt up. Shane nearly yelped when my hot mouth found its target. I flicked the ring upward to click against my upper teeth. My tongue rolled over his tight nipple, feeling the hard metal hidden beneath. Shane's fingers clutched my shoulders as his breath panted into the air. He was trying to be quiet. I suddenly didn't want him quiet.

My fingers wound into his belt loops, pulling hard while my hips ground forward into his. His voice was strained as his head fell back and he moaned into the cool night air. Beautiful. I opened my mouth wider and sucked. I closed my teeth slowly into the meat of his chest behind his nipple while I flicked the metal ring with my tongue. Shane released short cries of 'ah, ah, ah' that became higher pitched the harder my teeth came together. When his heart was pounding and his mind scrambled between wanting to hump against me and fight me off, I let go. His ring clinking against my teeth as I pulled away. Even in the dim light, I could see the indentations I'd left, though there didn't seem to be any blood. Still, that was going to leave a mark. I felt a fierce satisfaction at that.

I felt an unfamiliar, feral smile curl my lips as I pressed my palms on either side of Shane's head, the rough bark digging into my skin. His lips were kiss-swollen, his eyes wide.

“Undo your pants.” I ordered him. Well, wasn't I just Mr. Bossybritches tonight.

His eyelids fluttered and he bit his lip. He only paused for a moment before his fingers were scrabbling with button and zipper.

“Now let me see you.” I put a few more inches between us and looked down to his gaping fly.

His hands shook as his thumbs hooked the waistband of his undershorts and tugged them low on his hips. His hard length caught for a moment in the fabric then came free, snapping up to smack Shane's flat stomach. Oh yeah, Shane was a happy boy right then. The air was cool, but his skin was hot against my finger as I drew a bead of precum from his tip down to the soft nest of hair around his balls. He shivered against me and my mouth watered.

“Fuck.” He moaned as I dropped to my knees in front of him. The scattered leaves were wet, the damp cool through the knees of my jeans.

I let my warm breath caress his cockhead. “Let me.” I said, and flicked my tongue to taste another bead weeping from the tip.

“Oh god, yes.” His voice was tight and desperate.

His nails scraped against the bark behind him as I sucked him down. It was hardly graceful or smooth, I just wanted as much of him in my mouth as quickly as possible. He hit the back of my throat. I swallowed and pushed him past. I could still open my throat, I hadn't lost that skill. For the first time it was fun, no one gripping the back of my neck and thrusting deeper than I could handle. Shane didn't thrust at all, his body coiled tight and rigid. I slurped with little dignity up and down his length, swirling my tongue along the underside. I quickly opened my own pants and pulled out my cock. Shane wasn't going to last long and I knew what was coming. I moaned around his cock as I gave myself a few furtive strokes.

The muscles in Shane's thighs trembled as his cock throbbed and hardened even more behind my lips. He cursed and moaned as he came and I swallowed it down gleefully. When we were both finished, I tucked myself back in my pants and fastened them. Then I did the same for Shane, giving his softening cock a gentle kiss before putting it away. I pulled myself up his body, feeling wobbly and euphoric. I fixed his shirt and kissed his cheek as he caught his breath.

“Jesus.” He muttered. “That was... Jesus.”

I grinned and pressed our lips in a soft kiss then rested my forehead to his. He was taller than I was, but his leaning against the tree and slightly spread legs evened us out a bit. I told him sweet meaningless things as he regained muscle control of his legs. When he could stand and walk, I gently shooed him back to the party. When he came back with a drink for me, I was gone.

I wonder sometimes if he ever thinks of me, if he'd remember me if I ran into him on the street or at the grocery store. I wonder if I answered any questions he had about himself. Shane gave me something wonderful, hope that I could actually want sex, as cheeseball as it may sound.

It was with new confidence that I got out there to find some dicks to suck. I even let my own get sucked sometimes. But where blowjobs and make out sessions could be orchestrated on dark porches and the back yards of parties, actual sex would need more privacy. Privacy was scary. Privacy meant there weren't people close by to help if shit went wrong. Actual sex also meant that I was probably going to need more than just a curious boy. Letting me stick my dick in him was a harder sell than a few hot kisses and a blow. I was adamant about topping, too. At the time I thought I would never bottom. Hell no.

I knew I couldn't find the right guy at the bars in Iowa City. I was twenty-one by this point, and I could get in. I wouldn't want to, though. Bunch of hormonal young people in various stages of inebriation. It gave me a headache just thinking about it. Besides, none of them were gay bars. Cedar Rapids had one, I even felt it out once. I went and walked by a few times. I thought maybe I could do it like I had at the parties. I'd hang outside and just feel things out until I found the right guy. Yeah, no. I ran away with my tail between my legs after the fierce ogling I received. It was too intense. I couldn't do it.

Luckily I found the university's LGBTQ group, not that anyone could agree what the Q was supposed to stand for. Queer. Questioning. Who fucking cared? It was perfect. We had fucking barbeques and movie nights. There were a few predators in the mix, there to find a nice piece of tail. I just avoided them. Honestly, I wasn't any better. I was just like them, looking for someone to fuck. I definitely didn't need a predator though. I needed a lamb.

My lamb joined the group when I was just starting to think maybe I wouldn't find someone I was comfortable having sex with. By comfortable I mean not fucking terrified. Justin had come from a small town in southern Minnesota. He was out to his family. It had been rocky at first, but things were getting better. He was shy, but it was easy to see there was a lot going on behind those blue eyes. He was gentle and sweet. He was young, a freshman. He was virginal and unsure. He was about an inch shorter than me. I wanted to plant a little rainbow flag on him with my name on it. Mine. I needed him. I needed to catch him before any of the other predators swooped in, too. Justin was cute as a fucking button, with his shaggy bleached curls and his crooked smile. The lions would be chasing him down like a hot little gazelle in no time.

After the next meeting I made sure to catch him before he left to personally hand him the flier for the barbeque the following weekend. I stood a little closer than I needed to and asked him to please come. His voice stammered and his cheeks broke out in a hot blush. He was interested, I could feel it without even touching him. Sweet.

I convinced him to come to the barbeque. Really, it didn't take much convincing. I was glad when he found me in the back yard. I pretended to be interested in the grill, but I was just avoiding the too many people inside like usual. I was glad I didn't have to go looking for him. He had his red plastic cup, and I made sure it never went empty as we talked. I was sipping cran-grape juice. When I thought he was pleasantly buzzed without being drunk I made my move. When someone moved past me, I stumbled forward like I'd been bumped. My half-empty cup of bright juice went all over the front of Justin's light blue button down.

Bullseye.

I swore and apologized then generally fussed at him with a few handfuls of napkins.

“I'm so sorry.” I said for the eighth time. “I've made a mess of you. Shit, I should have been drinking water or vodka or something not so burgundy.”

He laughed and pinched the wet fabric between his fingers, holding it away from his skin.

“It's okay, really. I'll just run home and change.” He fished his keys out of his pocket. “I can be back in half an hour.”

I bit my lip and tried to look hesitant. “You can't drive. The cops'll bust you for DUI for sure. They're really after people this year.” They were after people every year. I hated when people drove when they were drinking, though, so it was alright by me.

He sighed and stuck his keys back in his pocket. “You're right.”

“I only live a block away.” I piped up before he could think too long. “We're about the same size. Why don't we pop over and snag you one. We can put your shirt in my machine so it won't stain. It'll be clean by the time the party's over.”

He thought about it for a moment. Please, say yes. Oh, pretty please.

He smiled his lopsided smile and nodded. “Okay, if you really don't mind.”

Oh, I didn't mind. Not at all.

I assessed how inebriated he was as we walked to my apartment. I didn't want to be like some sort of date-rapist. I was willing to try to get in his pants if he was a touch tipsy. If he was drunk I'd have to keep our clothes on and try to get him to come visit my bed another time. Justin was a bit more talkative than usual, but his steps weren't wobbly and his words weren't slurred. Not drunk. Yays.

Because I was living in such a classy joint, my tiny beat-up washing machine was in the kitchen. Honestly, I was lucky to have a washer and drier at all, I couldn't bitch. I turned my back and let him strip off his shirt while I went over to the sink and wet a clean washcloth. I stepped up to him just as he turned from the washer.

“Where's your...” He started as I ran the warm cloth over his skin catching the little drying drops of juice on it. He swallowed hard as he finished, “detergent?”

It would have been easiest to bend over and nab the soap from the cupboard to the right of our legs. Easiest, but not fun. Fun was sliding to my knees in front of him then reaching over to flip open the cabinet to grab the little jug of detergent. As I stood my body skimmed his. I let the bottle hang from two fingers.

“This work?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He breathed as I let him take it from me.

Justin's pretty blue eyes were dilated as they held mine then looked away. I felt his nervousness, but stronger than that was desire, lust, want. He turned his back to me as he filled the little cup in the lid and dumped it in then screwed it back on.

I pressed my chest to his back, suddenly wishing I was shirtless as well. “Let me help you with the settings.”

I leaned forward, bending his body with mine as I reached for the control knob. I was hard in my jeans, had been since we were half a block from my apartment. I knew he'd feel me when I took that last inch and snugged my hips up to his ass and flicked the knob to start the washer. Justin sucked in a breath and pressed back against me. It was just the reaction I wanted. I knew he was virginal. I'd been afraid he would be timid, but it seemed not. I grinned as I kissed the back of his neck.

His seduction was easy after that. I didn't even bother to pretend to try to find him a shirt when I herded him into my room, kissing and nibbling him most of the way. I flicked the lights off and backed him up to my bed. I held him close to me. My hands dipped to grab the globes of his ass. He sucked in a breath, his head falling to my shoulder. I ran a finger down the tantalizing cleft between his cheeks, pressing in gently as he moaned.

“Justin,” I whispered and kissed his bare shoulder. “Let me make you feel good.”

He nodded against me. “Please.” His voice trembled with nervousness and desire. “I want it, too.”

My heart tripped. Fucking, yes. I was going to do this. I could do this, and I would do absolutely everything in my power to make it fucking amazing for him. I knew the things that hurt, I'd never do those things to him. I wrapped my arms around the smaller man, hugging him to me while a fierce protectiveness swamped me. Sex should only be something wonderful for Justin. It should be bliss. He should never be afraid of it or hurt by it. Never.

I took a shaky breath, trying to get control of myself as I gently eased Justin onto my small bed. We curled side by side, kissing and touching, slowly losing articles of clothing. I steered his hands away from sore half-healed cuts and burns on my stomach and chest. He seemed content to touch me elsewhere, not suspicious. Eventually, we were naked and hard as iron, rubbing our lengths together and moaning. I reached under my pillow, snagging a bottle of slick and a condom. I scooted down the bed until his cock was waving in front of my face. I suddenly wished the lights were on, I wanted to see him. I'd have to settle for feeling him. I gripped him in my hand and slid my hold up his length. His skin was so fucking soft, with that turgid strength underneath. His hips bucked up as he groaned, hands fisting in my blankets. I nudged his thighs apart as I flicked teasing licks up his length, my hand staying around his base. I had flipped open the lid of the lube with my thumb. I was eager and not particularly suave as I turned it around and shot a generous portion under his balls to run down his crack.

He yipped. “Ah! That's cold!” I sucked his cock down my throat as an apology. He accepted my apology by moaning and grabbing my hair.

The slick warmed quickly against his skin. When I ran my fingers below his balls, rubbing his perineum, he tensed. It lasted a moment, then he moaned and let his legs fall wider apart. Such a nice invitation. I slid the tip of a finger over his tight bud and he bucked into my mouth, moaning louder.

“Justin.” I said, petting my fingerpad over that sensitive place as I pulled my mouth off his cock. “You have to tell me if anything feels bad or hurts or anything, okay?” I gave his hip a soft kiss. “You tell me to slow down and we will. You tell me to stop and we stop. I won't be mad or anything, I promise. Okay?”

He didn't respond. I stopped moving my finger and looked up to find his face in the dimness. “Okay?” I repeated.

He nodded. “Okay.” His fingers tangled in my hair. “But please don't stop right now.”

I grinned. “Deal.”

I pushed with my fingertip as I swallowed him down again. He arched and moaned as I carefully breached that little ring of muscles. Oh, he liked it. He really liked it. I pulled out, gathering more lube on my finger before pushing it back in, deeper this time. His cock twitched in my mouth. I slowly drew the digit in and out of him until he was wiggling his hips, begging for more. I added more slick before carefully adding another finger. I did it at a snail's pace. I thought Justin was going to yank my hair out or smack me with wanting me to hurry up, but I wasn't going to risk rushing it and causing him pain. By the time Justin was comfortable with three fingers thrusting into him, I had to stop sucking him or he would have come before I wanted him to. He'd also lost all coherence. It was all a jumbled mess of 'please, yes, fuck, harder' and 'oh, god'.

I was delighted. This was g0ing great so far.

Then Justin gasped. “Stop.”

I froze. I yanked my fingers out of him like he'd burned me and was next to him on the bed in an instant. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” I wiped my hands unceremoniously on the blanket and cupped his face. “I'm so sorry.”

Justin swallowed and shook his head. “No more.”

Tears pricked my eyes and my erection disappeared. I had fucked this up. Why did I think I could do this? Was he upset? He looked upset. Oh, fuck. What if he was traumatized? I didn't feel any pain in him, but I must have just been too distracted by my own screaming erection. How could I not notice I'd hurt him? I was as bad as Lester. I'd hurt Justin and I hadn't even realized because I was too busy being a lecherous fuckwad.

Justin was saying something.

“What?” I said.

“I said,” he panted, “no more teasing. Please, I need you.” He pressed his lithe body against mine. “In me, please.”

Well, that was... I blinked stupidly for a moment.

I pressed my forehead to his. “I didn't hurt you?” I sounded weak and desperate, but I couldn't stop myself.

He shook his head and rolled onto his side toward me. “Please. Please. Please, hurry.” His hard cock thrust wantonly against my thigh. “Please,” he whispered, “fuck me.”

I groaned and flipped him onto his back a little too roughly, but he didn't seem to mind. My cock returned to hardness so fast it almost hurt. I ripped open the condom and slapped it on my dick. I applied a generous amount of slick to my length as I gazed down at the young man spread out before me. It was dim, but my eyes had adjusted to the faint light filtering in from the window. I saw shadows and outlines. His hands gripped my chipped headboard tightly. His cock stood hard, curving up toward his flat belly. His hips rolled like he was looking for something above him, something to touch his sensitive length.

“God, you're fucking beautiful.” I breathed as I knelt between his thighs.

I pushed his knees up, settling the soles of his feet against my shoulders. I leaned forward, guiding the covered head of my cock to his opening. Justin was whimpering, his hips twitching, trying to get closer to me. I gripped his hips and held him still. He could hurt himself if he pushed himself on me too fast. I pushed gently, then harder as his muscles resisted my invasion. I lifted one hand to squeeze his length gently. He moaned and shivered. The head of my cock popped inside him as his muscles relaxed just enough. He sucked in a breath as I held very still. I was a fucking statue, because that was close. That was almost pain he'd felt. It was definitely discomfort. But god, he felt so good. I barely had the tip of my dick in him, and it was so hot and tight.

Justin relaxed under me and gave my arm a squeeze. Keep going then. I stroked his cock again as I carefully slid into him. I listened to his body carefully. He wanted this, overall it felt good. It felt strange to him, too. But, he wanted more. He wanted all of me. Before I knew it, I was in as far as I could, my hips pressed against his ass. At some point I'd moved his legs, I had the poor guy practically bent in half. He wasn't complaining though, he was panting and moaning.

“Don't tease.” He whimpered. “Move.”

I bit my lip hard to keep from yanking out of him and slamming back in. I doubted that's what he had in mind. I forced myself to go easy. I slid gently out and back in. He whimpered and clutched my arms, pulling me closer. I could feel his desires. Faster. Faster. I tasted blood in my mouth from my teeth on my lip as my hips pulled back. This time I thrust faster, harder. I accidentally pegged his prostate and Justin practically screamed beneath me. His pleasure bit me with rolling heat and I fell into it. I pinned his knees into his shoulders, bending him in half. He was a flexible little beast. I thrust hard and fast. It was what he wanted, I gave it to him. Maybe he wouldn't be able to sit tomorrow, but he was moaning and bucking and begging for more right then. He grabbed my hair and yanked my lips to his. The kiss was all tongues and heat as my headboard banged loudly against the wall and my skin slapped against his.

Justin's breathing changed and I knew he was close. I kissed him hard as I reached between us to squeeze and stroke his length. I came a moment before him. I came on my own. I felt his orgasm rip through me, but I was riding my own wave. It was mine.

I'd had sex with a man. I'd had an orgasm that hadn't just been an echo of his. I hadn't freaked out. I hadn't hurt him.

I let Justin's legs down and clutched him to me, my cock sliding out of him as we shifted. My breath stuttered and I buried my face in his neck.

I don't know if he heard me when I whispered, “Thank you. Oh, thank you.”