Confide/ant - 6. Chapter 6

Leon doesn’t understand why I don’t want to take a road trip with him and Jerome to see this awesome band we’ve all been crushing on musically for ages.

“Fuck it, Marty, you’re the only other one I trust to drive my car.”

“Oh, so you want to get wasted.” I frown at him; Leon has never stayed sober through an entire gig in his life. “I can’t drive your car home for you.” I’m sick of being that guy, but I don’t tell him that. “I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

I wish for the umpteenth time I could just plead off with a ‘family thing’, but even Leon knows how thin that lie is in my household; though he has no idea why.

“Because I’m failing shitting computing, that’s why. If I don’t pass this unit, the college will call my parents’ and then you know I won’t be getting out of the fucking house ever again.” My parents’ allowance of my freedom of movement hinges on my ability to get good grades and not bother them with the responsibility of actually being parents. It’s only when one of them fucks up or feels monumentally guilty that I get to spend money on more instruments: I have a lot of instruments. “You’ll have to go without me.”

“So do it on Sunday, with a hangover and tinnitus.” Leon grins, clearly already planning the shape of his weekend. “C’mon man, the band needs you.”

“I can’t. I have a damn tutor coming over.” I’ve told enough lies lately not to add to this one. It makes me feel like the shittiest friend ever. “You’ll have to crow about it all on Monday.”

“Fuck… really? Damn man.” Leon claps me on the shoulder and gives me a rueful sort of smile. “Well, if you’re finished grovelling to your tutor, come by Sunday and hang out, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leon’s hand on the back of my neck makes me feel loved somehow. “Don’t drive drunk, OK? Be careful, Leon.”

“An’ leave you pining after me?” Leon’s cocky smile and the way he grabs his own crotch breaks the moment between us which threatened to tip over into being too soft and sensitive for two straight guys who are just mates. “Not likely. Bye, Marty! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I watch him pull away squealing his tyres in the driveway, which I know my parents will hate. Depending on how pissed off they are with each other, I might not have to explain at all. I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk through the house by the main doors.

Our house looks like something out of Town and Country magazine, but I haven’t felt at home here in years. I don’t remember, even as a little kid, the cacophonous reception hall with its polished floors and expensive formal flower arrangements being used, except to welcome people in for special events and parties my parents were throwing for other rich and generally unhappy couples. The central table holds a select few poised and coiffured family photographs and one of me after I graduated secondary school. It was just before I cut my hair, and I look a lot younger, even though it was not quite two years ago. I cross the hallway as silently as I can, and I’m about to skirt through the kitchen, when I hear the sounds of my parents. They’re shouting at each other, a full-blown row so loud I can hardly understand what it’s about. When there’s the sound of breaking crockery, I know that one of them has been a little too careless with their sexual indiscretions. I don’t want to hang around and find out who.

My parents won’t be aware that I’ve heard them yelling at the top of their lungs, I’m too good at being silent and going unnoticed. Long gone are the days when my father would watch his language around me; far away are the times my mother would control herself instead of reeling off every mistake he’s ever made in twenty years every time they fight. Neither of them comes to reassure me afterwards anymore, I’m no longer a child, but I’m still scared of their anger. Terrible words follow me down the hall, and it’s a relief when I can shut the door to the east wing behind me blocking out the specifics of their incandescent rage. I’m so happy my room has been sound proofed.

When Hrishi buzzes my phone twenty minutes later, I meet him at the side door. His smile is tight, and he looks unhappy.

“What’s the matter?” I ask as I follow him into my room.

Hrishi turns to face me properly, and frowns.

“Is this a thing we’re doing now? Telling each other all our woes?”

“I….” I can see the irritation in his eyes, something has happened and it has nothing to do with me. I don’t want to be in the middle of another fight, not that kind anyway, so I drop it. “Never the fuck mind. Are you helping me with this shitty programming assignment or what?”

“The assignment’s not shitty, you just don’t understand it.” Hrishi smirks.

“You think I’m thick just because I play guitar.”

“I haven’t seen any evidence to the contrary,” Hrishi quips quickly. “Are you going to boot up that computer of yours, or am I just here to look pretty?”

I cross to my desk and start up my super sleek MacBook Air, even though I know it’s not what he means. I have a larger, chunky looking laptop, which boots up with a whine, even though it’s also top of the line. My parents think possessions will guarantee our happiness, but I’ve known that’s not true for a long time.

“Why are you here, Hrishi?”

“Other than the obvious?” He sticks his thumbs in the front pockets of his chinos, and I stare at him openly.

Three weeks ago I wouldn’t have said Hrishi Sethi had any idea how sexy he is, but now I’m not so sure. The boy oozes sex: the too-long silky hair clashing with his ironed polo shirt and neatly pressed trousers. The way he stands all hips and shoulders, directing my attention right to his crotch, at odds with his skinny stature and meagre height. And yet he’s strong, way more muscled than I thought he’d be under his clothes, and his soft, shy smile belies the force of his tongue and his teeth. I want him badly, but I can feel a new sensation rising in the pit of my stomach, something other than lust. I want to say I like him, but I can’t, because other than how much I enjoy his body, I know nothing about him.

“Yeah, apart from that.”

“I thought I was going to help you not-fail computing.” Hrishi doesn’t wait for me to get up before his fingers are on the keyboard, and he settles his weight in my lap. I tense, every muscle rigid at the weight of him pressed against my crotch and thighs. I wrap my arms around his waist and begin to tug his shirt free from his belt. “If we start that now, we’re never going to get any coding done.”

“Fuck it, I want you,” I growl into his ear running my palm under his shirt and up his chest until I reach the base of his neck. I pull the fabric aside, intent on marking him like I did the first time, and I press my excited erection close into the cleft of his arse.

“Not yet, rock star.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Hrishi turns to look at my over his shoulder with a soft frown.

“Why not? I think it’s kind of hot. You musicians are so self-centred, but damn it works for you.”

“I am not self-centred,” I pout.

“Ooh, says the boy with a fringe dyed to match his guitar?” Hrishi twists around further until he ends up with his arms around my neck, threading his slim fingers in my hair. “That’s not incredibly narcissistic at all, Marty.” Hrishi taps an indiscernible pattern out with his fingertips down the line of my temple, along my cheekbone and across my lower lip. I shiver involuntarily. “I’ve always thought you were the hottest guy on campus y’know. I never figured you were gay.”

“Well I’m a good actor too, not just a pretty face.”

“Yeah, you’re also good with your hands.” Hrishi’s kiss is forceful enough to make me forgive his dismissive tone, if only for a moment. We break off exploring each other’s throats, and he frowns at me again. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about stuff which bothered us?” I snap back at him quickly.

“Touchy. At least I can understand your problems.”

“Fuck off!” I stand and push him off me in one motion. It’s a surprise, and Hrishi falls to the floor knocking the side of his head against my desk as he drops. I feel bad about it, but my rage powers through and I don’t bend to help him up. “You know shit-all and nothin’ about my problems, Hrishi!”

“Oh, 'cause a nerdy little guy like me would never understand all the torment a rich white boy goes through?” Hrishi vibrates visibly, he’s that pissed off. “Get down off your high horse so I can at least help you with this.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“No?” Hrishi jerks his chin, as though making up for our extreme height difference. “You finally figured out machine learning algorithms by yourself, did you?”

“I am not a moron.” I only realise I’m gripping him above his elbow when he tries to pull away. I hold on harder until there’s a thread of fear colouring the anger in his eyes.

“You’re still a useless excuse for a human being, Marty.”

“And you’re a fucking broken record. You might hate me, but I know you want me.”

“Are you sure?” Hrishi speaks through gritted teeth, but I can’t work out if he’s talking to me or trying to convince himself.

My heartbeat is ultra-loud in my ears, tighter than a snare drum, deeper than a bass, and I can feel every sensation as though every nerve ending I have is stripped out and laid bare. Hrishi’s skin under my hand, the throb of his pulse under my fingers, the way the light reflects from his silky hair and sparks bright fractals in his dark eyes, the sound of his breath mixing with my own: the tension between us palpable. I want to smash that wall and take him, claim him, plant a stake in that ground and call him my own. But I can’t, because right now, I can’t stand him.

It’s a long moment, and just as I’m ready to step away, Hrishi grabs my hair and yanks me down for a kiss. This is different than it’s ever been, and we’re both moving fast, tasting desperation, and our kiss had very little to do with each other. Hrishi is taking all the pleasure he can get and so am I. He takes us both in hand, such an intimate gesture considering I would still very much like to physically wipe that smirk from his face. I break off kissing him to pull his hair, twist his face upwards and bite his neck. There’s no way he can hide this hickey without a really obvious scarf. I do as much damage as quickly as I possibly can until I’m panting, shaking and coming in his hand. I cry out when I come, helpless to still the wanton moan of pleasure escaping from my lips. Hrishi growls low and wordlessly, his seed mixing with my own.

We clean up and dress without a word, and Hrishi leaves without a backwards glance. I’m still staring blankly at my computer screen when I receive his text.

I need u, but I don’t like u. It’s probably best if we don’t talk.

*

“Isn’t that Marty’s car?”

“Fuck, my back aches...”

“Well you shouldn’t have tried to balance on a damn barstool,” Leon sounds far too sober to have just left a gig, but I’m a tiny bit proud my best friend didn’t drive drunk. Neither did I, but I’ve been making up for it since then. “Why would Marty’s car be here?”

I’m not braced for the sudden cold which floods in from outside as Leon yanks my driver’s door open. I recoil from the chill air, curling in on myself, and the two-thirds empty bottle of bourbon I lifted from my parents’ extensive drinks cabinet. I doubt they’ll miss it; there were two more there, and I know this was the least expensive, though that’s not saying much.

“Marty? Fuckin’ hell, boy, was that full when you started?”

I nod, not really trusting myself to speak. I’ve been waiting in Leon’s driveway for an hour, and I’m drunk.

“C’mon guys, let’s get him inside. I’ll go reassure the parents that all is well, you two get him to my room.”

Leon’s house is vast, but twisty, and I’m grateful for Jerome under one arm with Aaron bringing up the rear, because I’d never be able to navigate three flights of stairs by myself. I slump in the love seat where Jerome deposits me, and I have the bottle most of the way to my lips when our drummer steals it from my fingertips.

“Hey!”

“You should take it easy, Marty.” He takes a long swig and hands the bourbon off to Aaron. “After all, we’ve gotta catch up with you now, an’ it’s already late.”

“So I’m guessing your study session was a pile o’ shite?” Leon is back, a big glass of water in one hand, a six-pack in the other. I’m not sure why our parents feel it’s socially acceptable for us to get wasted in the house, but then, they probably live in the world of plausible deniability where they don’t want to know we’ve got other booze too. “Budge up, Marty,” Leon says while shifting me along with one knee and his hand on my shoulder, “tell us all about it.”

“I’m fucking failing.” I slur my words, but only a little, and I’m still keeping half an eye on the location of the bourbon. I drain the water Leon hands me and steal the bottle back next time it comes close. I can still remember everything I said to Hrishi, and everything he spat back. My brain aches and I don’t want it too.

“Dude, that sucks.” Jerome’s voice holds real sympathy.

“It’s not like being bad at programming and shit will get you kicked out of music tech,” Leon replies, but I can see that he’s worried. We can be in bands with whoever we like in our own time, but for showcases and examination pieces, we have to stick with guys enrolled in our course. I might not be the best at everything, but I know I’m not easily replaceable either. “I thought you had a tutor coming over?”

I roll onto my side and half bury myself in the warmth of Leon’s shirt and jacket. He smells of the gig, faintly of smoke and sweat, the tang of many bodies thrashing to the music: it’s oddly comforting. Aaron and Jerome have opened beers, and start discussing the band in detail. Leon takes the bourbon and drains the rest, then glances down at me.

“Marty? You know I’ve never been good at this mind reading shit….”

“We had a fight.”

“With your tutor?” Leon is understandably confused.

“Yeah… no.”

“What’s going on, Marty?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know.”

Leon frowns down at me, and then places his hand on the back of my neck with a sigh. I’m the one used to looking after him, and whilst it’s not like I’ve never been drunk before, we both know that I’m not my usual self either.

“OK, drunk-boy, let’s put you to bed.”

Leon helps me out of my boots and I fall into his bed without a second thought. He tucks me in, which earns a soft chuckle from Aaron and I know I’ll catch hell for this some other time when I’m feeling less delicate. I drift in and out of consciousness for a while half listening to the snippets of conversation that reach me. Leon’s voice saying ‘you hear the reverb on that guitar though’ goes around and around in my head until the words are just shapes with no meaning. I jerk awake in the pitch black to the realisation that I’d fallen asleep. Leon is passed out on the couch and Aaron and Jerome are gently snoring shapes on the floor, indistinct in the dark.

My head is pounding and I want to sleep again, but the light on my phone glows softly, blinking gently as steady as my breathing. I pick it up and wince at the brightness of the screen. It’s nearly five in the morning on a Sunday, but I have a text from Hrishi, which arrived only moments ago.

Meet me in the showers on Monday.

I don’t need to ask how early I should be there.

*

We’re naked in the showers. It’s god damn early, and I’m surprised the building is even open. Hrishi is on his knees with my cock in his mouth, with his eyes closed against the water, his lips and tongue doing unspeakably pleasurable things to me. I groan, hands pulling at my own hair, not daring to touch the spiky young man who is making my toes curl with desire, only the cold tiled wall behind me keeping my body upright. Hrishi runs his tongue over the head of my cock and I jerk in his mouth. He makes a pleased noise, does it again, then sucks hard and swallows so that I am surrounded by his throat. The heat and intense pressure push me over the edge without warning, and I flood him with a moan. His strong slender fingers grip my arse, pinning me right where I am, and he doesn’t release me until I have finished throbbing.

He stands without a word, not using me to steady himself, balanced like a cat on the balls of his feet, and we kiss. I can taste myself in his mouth, slightly salty, a sharp tang I can’t put into words, and then he spins me around with a growl.

I am reminded of our first time together: the way I ran my fingers down his body, and the noises of pleasure he made as he looked at me. I can feel him rutting in the furrow between my cheeks, his erection hot and hard, seeking a target, and I clench against him. He reaches around and plays with my nipples, making me gasp and moan again. Hrishi bites my shoulder when he comes, but he can’t reach my neck. So, he simply sets his teeth into my deltoid and bruises me as hard as he can. I hate that I like it, and that I can’t separate the pain from the high pitched whine of pleasure which escapes me or the hot sensation of his cum painting my arse and back. He growls, licks the new hickey on my skin, and we clean up under the spray.

We kiss as we dress, and with a shiver of desire, I watch him tuck his silky soft cock away in his cute little boxer briefs. I already want him again. He can tell, too. I’m still not allowed to wear underwear, so I make sure my fly is done up really well, and we share more kisses before I shoulder my guitar and leave.

We don’t go the same way, and I won’t see him again until athletics this afternoon, but I’m already planning on sexting him later when I know he’ll be in class. Being with Hrishi will be the best part of my day, even though through our twin orgasms in the shower, neither of us said a word.