“Garen?” I say.
“Yeah?” comes the absentminded reply.
“I’m glad we…” I trail off and hope that my eyes boring into the back of his head will convey everything I’m too scared to actually say out. I see his hands come together and I know he’s twisting the ring around his finger yet again, just like I’ve watched him do every night all through dinner.
“Yeah. Me too,” he says. I trace the inscription on the ring. I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.
“Garen?” I say again. He hums slightly in acknowledgement. “I’m also glad that if I had to hook up with a guy, it was at least a really hot one who gives amazing blowjobs.”
He laughs. “Thanks. I think you’ll like your bicurious routine even more once we get to the real sex.”
It feels sort of like the floor drops out from under me then, like I’m paddling in mid-air while my stomach plummets downward. I swallow hard, wait until he’s gone back to his work at the computer. A few minutes later, I say his name again and close my notebook and put it on the floor next to my bed. Garen spins the chair around.
“Yeah?” he says.
“How old were you your first time?” I ask. He smiles slightly and stands up.
“I thought you were gonna end up asking something like that. I should think more before I speak. My first time doing anything, or my first time I officially had real sex?” he asks.
“Real sex,” I say. He lies down near me, using my legs as a pillow for his head.
“I was fifteen. Why?” he asks.
“That’s young,” I say, widening my eyes at him. He nods.
“I know. Why do you ask?” he repeats. I shrug.
“I don’t know. Will you tell me about it?”
He’s silent for a few minutes, then pulls me down so we’re side by side, sharing a pillow.
“It was in April. My freshman year at Patton. My best friend James was my roommate at the time, and we were outside all day, you know, screwing around with a football or whatever. We were both covered in mud, and when we got back to the room, we had a fight over who got to shower first. I won, so in retaliation, he tackled me when I got out. We went from playful wrestling to me fucking his brains out, and I’m not quite sure how we made the leap. But it’s not like I regret it, ‘cause he was the best person I guess it could’ve been with, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be the same as I am now,” he says. I roll onto my stomach and mumble it into the pillow.
“What?” he asks. I lift my head up.
“I said, I want you to be my first,” I repeat, and I drop my head back onto the pillow.
“Seriously?” he says. I nod, and he kisses my cheek. Surprise, surprise, he doesn’t get it. I sit up.
“Garen?” I say.
“Yeah?” he replies. I straddle his hips and brush my fingertips against his belt buckle.
“I don’t want to wait anymore,” I say. He stares up at me.
“You’re not serious,” he says. I reach down to shakily push his hair out of his face.
“Yeah, I am. Why, do you not want…” I falter. He rolls out from under me and stands up.
“What time is Ev getting home?” he asks. I shrug.
“A few hours, I guess. Around nine thirty.”
“And Bree?”
“She’s at her boyfriend’s house until curfew. So, elevenish.”
Garen nods, then adds, “Dad’s out of town.”
I shrug. He takes my hand and pulls me across the hall into his room.
“I want to know if you’re positive you want this,” he says.
“I am,” I say firmly. He reaches back and grabs the back of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head.
“Still?” he asks. I nod, and almost to confirm, I pull off my own shirt. This is real, this is happening. Garen steps forward so we’re almost touching.
“Still?” he asks again. I nod again. He kisses me, just barely, and reaches for the button of my jeans. Fifteen seconds of fumbling later, and the button’s undone, the zipper is down, and I’m painfully hard.
And he’s shaking all over.
“Fuck,” he breathes. I stroke his jaw gently.
“What’s up? I thought I was supposed to be the nervous virgin here,” I say. He nods.
“I know, I know,” he mutters. I cock my head to the side.
“Then why are you shaking?” I ask. He swallows thickly, then forces a weak smile.
“Because I’m afraid you won’t respect me in the morning?” he says. I stare. I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not, so I just reach around him to turn on the stereo.
“What’s this?” I ask. He grins, back to normal, back in his element.
“‘How to Be Dead’ by Snow Patrol,” he answers, backing me towards the bed. I bob my head like that means anything to me.
“Good song to lose my virginity to?” I ask. He kisses me.
“Yeah. But this one’s better,” he says. He turns to the computer and starts up a song on iTunes as he turns off the stereo.
“What’s this?” I ask, lying back on the bed.
“‘Love Song.’ The Cure,” he replies. He leans over me and I pull him down on top of me. The feel of his skin against mine is entirely new, even though I’m familiar with him just being on me. He kisses me lazily, his hips grinding down against mine in slow, agonizing, perfect circles. I might whimper, but I’m not exactly sure. I stroke his chest down to his jeans and undo the zipper. He tugs on my beltloops and I raise my hips so he can pull the jeans down and off. I push at his jeans with trembling hands.
“Are you okay?” he whispers. Déjà vu.
“Why do you always ask that when we do anything for the first time?” I ask.
“Because you shake so much it looks like you’re having a seizure,” he replies. I snort.
“Trust me, I’m not. Can you stop ruining the moment and fuck me now?” I ask. He nods and rolls off the bed, and I raise my eyebrows. “Um, Garen? I don’t doubt that you’ve got a big cock, but I think you’re gonna have to be a little closer if—”
“You know, you can fuck yourself if you don’t stop giving me mouth,” he interrupts. he opens his desk drawer and rummages around in it.
“I thought you’d enjoy getting mouth,” I say. He smirks at me and finally finds what he was looking for. He returns to the side of the bed with a small tube and a square foil packet.
“You know, the best part about having sex with you is going to be finally getting you to shut up,” he says. Off come the jeans.
“If that’s going to be the best part, you’re doing it wrong,” I reply. Off come his boxers. I stare.
“Trust me, Travis. I definitely do it right,” he says. I nod.
“I’m gonna believe you with that,” I say. He grins and climbs back onto the bed.
“Also, I think you underestimate how much you talk. You need some help with those, or can you handle it yourself?” he asks, nodding to my boxers.
“I can handle it,” I say.
“Then I guess you don’t need me,” he shoots back. I stick my tongue out at him and shift so the blankets are covering me before I slip off my boxers. Garen rolls his eyes.
“Travis, I’ve had it in my mouth and now I can’t even see it?” he says.
“Well, sorry if I’m not an exhibitionist like you,” I retort. “You know, if we had sex even half as much as we fight, we’d be a lot better off.”
“I think my dad once said the same thing to my mom,” he says. I wrinkle my nose.
“Okay, you do not get to mention Bill while I’m naked. Are you trying to make me soft?” I demand. He grins and slips under the blankets next to me, kissing my collarbone softly.
“I haven’t had sex under blankets in like, two years. I can’t believe you’re making me do this. You’re such a girl,” he says. I wrestle him down onto the mattress and pin his arms above his head.
“I am not a girl,” I say firmly. Garen’s eyes slide shut and his head lolls back.
“Mm, you keep wriggling like that and I’m gonna come before we actually get anywhere,” he murmurs. I hook my legs around his and roll onto my back, pulling him on top of me and settling him between my knees.
“Then let’s get somewhere,” I say.
“Are you sure?” he asks. As he says it, he grabs the condom and the tube of lube from off the blanket next to me. I nod and close my eyes.
“Just do it,” I say. He kisses me, whispering against my lips, words I can’t listen closely enough to hear. The lube, I immediately discover, is freezing fucking cold. I inhale sharply.
“Relax,” Garen whispers in my ear, one, then two fingers in me. I feel myself tensing up automatically, and it hurts about as much as I’d suspected having someone’s fingers up my asshole would. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”
“No,” I say quickly. “don’t stop. Just go slow.”
“Okay. I-If I hurt you, just—”
Right in the middle of his sentence, his fingers do something or touch something that just clicks. I throw my head back and let out a groan from deep in the back of my throat.
“Oh fuck, whatever you just did, fucking—unh— do it again,” I breathe.
“I can think of something better,” he murmurs. I concentrate on trying to keep my breathing steady – which is almost impossible, and just succeeds in making me light-headed – and nod.
“Okay,” I say. He tears open the condom wrapper with his teeth and kisses me as he rolls it down over his cock.
“Are you ready?” he asks. I lick my lips and nod, reaching up to grip the headboard.
Slowly, he pushes in. I start breathing in time to the rhythm of his hips. In, out, in, out. I relax as much as I can, which is still almost not at all, and after a minute, the dull pain starts to lessen. I hesitantly open my eyes, and… oh God. Garen’s hands are braced on the pillow on either side of my head, his arms straight so he’s leaning over me. His eyes are squeezed shut, his lips slightly parted, his hair forming a messy halo of spikes around his face. I grab his shoulders and pull him down to kiss me. “Harder,” I whisper. I wrap my legs around his waist, thrust up to meet him. He pushes the hair away from my face and kisses me again, still whispering into my mouth. I release the headboard to wrap my arms around him. My nails are digging into his back, probably leaving long red lines that would be impossible to explain if anyone saw them. He lets out a deep gravelly moan against my mouth, and he’s hitting me at just the right angle. I come and less than thirty seconds later, he follows, his whole body shaking and tensing. The movement of his hips doesn’t stop immediately; it slowly lessens until it just sort of dies down. I’m still trembling, and I’m soaked in sweat, and I know that tomorrow I’m going to be so fucking sore. It all feels sort of perfect, and I’m pretty sure it must be unreal. Garen carefully pulls out of me and shifts off. He stands up after a minute to get rid of the condom, then returns to sprawl down next to me.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I? I mean, hurt you too much,” he says softly. I shake my head and shift to rest my forehead against his shoulder.
“No. It… It hurt, but it’s not like it was unbearable,” I say. He nods and kisses the top of my head. It’s so… intimate. I sit up. “No offense, but do you mind if I, you know, shower?”
He grins and gestures to the door. “Go ahead.”
I head for the bathroom and start the water. I’m about to step under the spray when the bathroom door opens. I smile.
“Decide to join me?” I ask.
“I thought you might get lonely,” Garen says. I pull him into the stall with me and kiss him. we both wash off the sweat and cum, and right as we’re about to get out, we make the entire process pointless. He fucks me a second time, my chest pressed against the tile wall, and after we both come, we finish the shower for real and head back to his room. I pause in the doorway.
“I’ll be right back. I should get dressed. It’s late,” I say. After slight hesitation, he nods. In my room, I quickly pull on clean boxers and sweatpants. I head across the hall with my sweatshirt in hand. Garen is back in jeans and a t-shirt, and he returns to the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Blow-drying my hair. Evelyn’s coming home soon, so I figure at least one of us should look like we didn’t just shower together,” he replies. Sure enough, Mom’s car pulls up twenty minutes later. But when she opens the front door and I look up from the TV, I see she’s with Bill.
“I thought you were out of town,” I say. They’re both smiling, almost glowing. Wait. Stop. Don’t tell me, because I know it’s coming.
“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Mom says. No no no. She looks around. “Where’s Garen?” No.
“Garen!” I yell, and to me, it sounds petrified and needy. I wonder if Mom and Bill notice.
“What, babe?” Garen calls from upstairs. They don’t seem to notice the term of affection, so I doubt they noticed my tone.
“Mom and Bill want—” I stop. Garen’s at the top of the stairs. We stare at each other. “They want to talk to us.”
“What?” he says, sitting down on the top step.
“Come down,” Bill says. Garen doesn’t move. None of us do. Then, suddenly, Mom’s hand flies up. There’s a huge diamond glinting on her finger.
“We’re engaged!” she cries happily. I stare. Garen stares. In the back of my mind, I realize this is hell.
“Yeah?” comes the absentminded reply.
“I’m glad we…” I trail off and hope that my eyes boring into the back of his head will convey everything I’m too scared to actually say out. I see his hands come together and I know he’s twisting the ring around his finger yet again, just like I’ve watched him do every night all through dinner.
“Yeah. Me too,” he says. I trace the inscription on the ring. I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.
“Garen?” I say again. He hums slightly in acknowledgement. “I’m also glad that if I had to hook up with a guy, it was at least a really hot one who gives amazing blowjobs.”
He laughs. “Thanks. I think you’ll like your bicurious routine even more once we get to the real sex.”
It feels sort of like the floor drops out from under me then, like I’m paddling in mid-air while my stomach plummets downward. I swallow hard, wait until he’s gone back to his work at the computer. A few minutes later, I say his name again and close my notebook and put it on the floor next to my bed. Garen spins the chair around.
“Yeah?” he says.
“How old were you your first time?” I ask. He smiles slightly and stands up.
“I thought you were gonna end up asking something like that. I should think more before I speak. My first time doing anything, or my first time I officially had real sex?” he asks.
“Real sex,” I say. He lies down near me, using my legs as a pillow for his head.
“I was fifteen. Why?” he asks.
“That’s young,” I say, widening my eyes at him. He nods.
“I know. Why do you ask?” he repeats. I shrug.
“I don’t know. Will you tell me about it?”
He’s silent for a few minutes, then pulls me down so we’re side by side, sharing a pillow.
“It was in April. My freshman year at Patton. My best friend James was my roommate at the time, and we were outside all day, you know, screwing around with a football or whatever. We were both covered in mud, and when we got back to the room, we had a fight over who got to shower first. I won, so in retaliation, he tackled me when I got out. We went from playful wrestling to me fucking his brains out, and I’m not quite sure how we made the leap. But it’s not like I regret it, ‘cause he was the best person I guess it could’ve been with, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be the same as I am now,” he says. I roll onto my stomach and mumble it into the pillow.
“What?” he asks. I lift my head up.
“I said, I want you to be my first,” I repeat, and I drop my head back onto the pillow.
“Seriously?” he says. I nod, and he kisses my cheek. Surprise, surprise, he doesn’t get it. I sit up.
“Garen?” I say.
“Yeah?” he replies. I straddle his hips and brush my fingertips against his belt buckle.
“I don’t want to wait anymore,” I say. He stares up at me.
“You’re not serious,” he says. I reach down to shakily push his hair out of his face.
“Yeah, I am. Why, do you not want…” I falter. He rolls out from under me and stands up.
“What time is Ev getting home?” he asks. I shrug.
“A few hours, I guess. Around nine thirty.”
“And Bree?”
“She’s at her boyfriend’s house until curfew. So, elevenish.”
Garen nods, then adds, “Dad’s out of town.”
I shrug. He takes my hand and pulls me across the hall into his room.
“I want to know if you’re positive you want this,” he says.
“I am,” I say firmly. He reaches back and grabs the back of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head.
“Still?” he asks. I nod, and almost to confirm, I pull off my own shirt. This is real, this is happening. Garen steps forward so we’re almost touching.
“Still?” he asks again. I nod again. He kisses me, just barely, and reaches for the button of my jeans. Fifteen seconds of fumbling later, and the button’s undone, the zipper is down, and I’m painfully hard.
And he’s shaking all over.
“Fuck,” he breathes. I stroke his jaw gently.
“What’s up? I thought I was supposed to be the nervous virgin here,” I say. He nods.
“I know, I know,” he mutters. I cock my head to the side.
“Then why are you shaking?” I ask. He swallows thickly, then forces a weak smile.
“Because I’m afraid you won’t respect me in the morning?” he says. I stare. I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not, so I just reach around him to turn on the stereo.
“What’s this?” I ask. He grins, back to normal, back in his element.
“‘How to Be Dead’ by Snow Patrol,” he answers, backing me towards the bed. I bob my head like that means anything to me.
“Good song to lose my virginity to?” I ask. He kisses me.
“Yeah. But this one’s better,” he says. He turns to the computer and starts up a song on iTunes as he turns off the stereo.
“What’s this?” I ask, lying back on the bed.
“‘Love Song.’ The Cure,” he replies. He leans over me and I pull him down on top of me. The feel of his skin against mine is entirely new, even though I’m familiar with him just being on me. He kisses me lazily, his hips grinding down against mine in slow, agonizing, perfect circles. I might whimper, but I’m not exactly sure. I stroke his chest down to his jeans and undo the zipper. He tugs on my beltloops and I raise my hips so he can pull the jeans down and off. I push at his jeans with trembling hands.
“Are you okay?” he whispers. Déjà vu.
“Why do you always ask that when we do anything for the first time?” I ask.
“Because you shake so much it looks like you’re having a seizure,” he replies. I snort.
“Trust me, I’m not. Can you stop ruining the moment and fuck me now?” I ask. He nods and rolls off the bed, and I raise my eyebrows. “Um, Garen? I don’t doubt that you’ve got a big cock, but I think you’re gonna have to be a little closer if—”
“You know, you can fuck yourself if you don’t stop giving me mouth,” he interrupts. he opens his desk drawer and rummages around in it.
“I thought you’d enjoy getting mouth,” I say. He smirks at me and finally finds what he was looking for. He returns to the side of the bed with a small tube and a square foil packet.
“You know, the best part about having sex with you is going to be finally getting you to shut up,” he says. Off come the jeans.
“If that’s going to be the best part, you’re doing it wrong,” I reply. Off come his boxers. I stare.
“Trust me, Travis. I definitely do it right,” he says. I nod.
“I’m gonna believe you with that,” I say. He grins and climbs back onto the bed.
“Also, I think you underestimate how much you talk. You need some help with those, or can you handle it yourself?” he asks, nodding to my boxers.
“I can handle it,” I say.
“Then I guess you don’t need me,” he shoots back. I stick my tongue out at him and shift so the blankets are covering me before I slip off my boxers. Garen rolls his eyes.
“Travis, I’ve had it in my mouth and now I can’t even see it?” he says.
“Well, sorry if I’m not an exhibitionist like you,” I retort. “You know, if we had sex even half as much as we fight, we’d be a lot better off.”
“I think my dad once said the same thing to my mom,” he says. I wrinkle my nose.
“Okay, you do not get to mention Bill while I’m naked. Are you trying to make me soft?” I demand. He grins and slips under the blankets next to me, kissing my collarbone softly.
“I haven’t had sex under blankets in like, two years. I can’t believe you’re making me do this. You’re such a girl,” he says. I wrestle him down onto the mattress and pin his arms above his head.
“I am not a girl,” I say firmly. Garen’s eyes slide shut and his head lolls back.
“Mm, you keep wriggling like that and I’m gonna come before we actually get anywhere,” he murmurs. I hook my legs around his and roll onto my back, pulling him on top of me and settling him between my knees.
“Then let’s get somewhere,” I say.
“Are you sure?” he asks. As he says it, he grabs the condom and the tube of lube from off the blanket next to me. I nod and close my eyes.
“Just do it,” I say. He kisses me, whispering against my lips, words I can’t listen closely enough to hear. The lube, I immediately discover, is freezing fucking cold. I inhale sharply.
“Relax,” Garen whispers in my ear, one, then two fingers in me. I feel myself tensing up automatically, and it hurts about as much as I’d suspected having someone’s fingers up my asshole would. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”
“No,” I say quickly. “don’t stop. Just go slow.”
“Okay. I-If I hurt you, just—”
Right in the middle of his sentence, his fingers do something or touch something that just clicks. I throw my head back and let out a groan from deep in the back of my throat.
“Oh fuck, whatever you just did, fucking—unh— do it again,” I breathe.
“I can think of something better,” he murmurs. I concentrate on trying to keep my breathing steady – which is almost impossible, and just succeeds in making me light-headed – and nod.
“Okay,” I say. He tears open the condom wrapper with his teeth and kisses me as he rolls it down over his cock.
“Are you ready?” he asks. I lick my lips and nod, reaching up to grip the headboard.
Slowly, he pushes in. I start breathing in time to the rhythm of his hips. In, out, in, out. I relax as much as I can, which is still almost not at all, and after a minute, the dull pain starts to lessen. I hesitantly open my eyes, and… oh God. Garen’s hands are braced on the pillow on either side of my head, his arms straight so he’s leaning over me. His eyes are squeezed shut, his lips slightly parted, his hair forming a messy halo of spikes around his face. I grab his shoulders and pull him down to kiss me. “Harder,” I whisper. I wrap my legs around his waist, thrust up to meet him. He pushes the hair away from my face and kisses me again, still whispering into my mouth. I release the headboard to wrap my arms around him. My nails are digging into his back, probably leaving long red lines that would be impossible to explain if anyone saw them. He lets out a deep gravelly moan against my mouth, and he’s hitting me at just the right angle. I come and less than thirty seconds later, he follows, his whole body shaking and tensing. The movement of his hips doesn’t stop immediately; it slowly lessens until it just sort of dies down. I’m still trembling, and I’m soaked in sweat, and I know that tomorrow I’m going to be so fucking sore. It all feels sort of perfect, and I’m pretty sure it must be unreal. Garen carefully pulls out of me and shifts off. He stands up after a minute to get rid of the condom, then returns to sprawl down next to me.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I? I mean, hurt you too much,” he says softly. I shake my head and shift to rest my forehead against his shoulder.
“No. It… It hurt, but it’s not like it was unbearable,” I say. He nods and kisses the top of my head. It’s so… intimate. I sit up. “No offense, but do you mind if I, you know, shower?”
He grins and gestures to the door. “Go ahead.”
I head for the bathroom and start the water. I’m about to step under the spray when the bathroom door opens. I smile.
“Decide to join me?” I ask.
“I thought you might get lonely,” Garen says. I pull him into the stall with me and kiss him. we both wash off the sweat and cum, and right as we’re about to get out, we make the entire process pointless. He fucks me a second time, my chest pressed against the tile wall, and after we both come, we finish the shower for real and head back to his room. I pause in the doorway.
“I’ll be right back. I should get dressed. It’s late,” I say. After slight hesitation, he nods. In my room, I quickly pull on clean boxers and sweatpants. I head across the hall with my sweatshirt in hand. Garen is back in jeans and a t-shirt, and he returns to the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Blow-drying my hair. Evelyn’s coming home soon, so I figure at least one of us should look like we didn’t just shower together,” he replies. Sure enough, Mom’s car pulls up twenty minutes later. But when she opens the front door and I look up from the TV, I see she’s with Bill.
“I thought you were out of town,” I say. They’re both smiling, almost glowing. Wait. Stop. Don’t tell me, because I know it’s coming.
“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Mom says. No no no. She looks around. “Where’s Garen?” No.
“Garen!” I yell, and to me, it sounds petrified and needy. I wonder if Mom and Bill notice.
“What, babe?” Garen calls from upstairs. They don’t seem to notice the term of affection, so I doubt they noticed my tone.
“Mom and Bill want—” I stop. Garen’s at the top of the stairs. We stare at each other. “They want to talk to us.”
“What?” he says, sitting down on the top step.
“Come down,” Bill says. Garen doesn’t move. None of us do. Then, suddenly, Mom’s hand flies up. There’s a huge diamond glinting on her finger.
“We’re engaged!” she cries happily. I stare. Garen stares. In the back of my mind, I realize this is hell.