Desperate Summers (Frerard short fic)

Purple Paint

A week went by and it seamed as Mr. Way was just gone. I didn't see him anywhere and my father had barely spoken to him. That night my father had returned and wondered where his friend had gone off too, but I just shrugged my shoulders and kept my head down.

Mr. Way's car was there, his little black bug just sat quietly in the driveway. I knew Mr. Way was inside that house, probably painting or drawing. I tried to keep my mind straight, but my eyes kept glancing out of my window and toward his house. It seamed really quiet most days. The most excitement I got from that house was when I saw a bathroom light on or something. Either way, it seamed like Mr. Way was just a ghost now.

I wondered what I did wrong and what clicked in his brain to make him think so suddenly that I was too underage for him. Sure, the difference was a little odd but Mr. Way was hot. Not only that, but I never realized that being with someone older meant been with someone who had more experience. I had only ever hooked up with girlfriends and random people at random parties. It had never been this great.

Was it his age or was it that he was a man? I had only ever been with girls my age, so it was difficult for me to tell. When I thought about it, I really wasn't sure if I would be willing to hook up with a boy my age. When I had watched gay porn, I liked it fair enough. Again, the only problem was that it either consisted of twinks or muscly men that got a bit too sweaty.

I looked over at Mr. Way's house and frowned. What was it about him that enticed me? I liked the way he controlled me, the way he made me feel when he looked at me. I liked his body. I really did. And maybe that was a little weird, for a nineteen year old boy to look at an older man's stomach pudge and want him to fuck my brains out. He was hairier than boys my age were, and I didn't know why the fuck that got me hard. It was hair? It was supposed to be gross that I liked the feel of his hairy balls in my face or the light look of the hair on his chest.

It wasn't like I was in love. No, love took time and effort. I was in lust. Lust wasn't suppose to be this intense, but I felt it deep in my bones. I felt it when I thought about him and I felt it when he glanced my way. All I wanted was for him to fuck me, was that really too much to ask? He was always bringing women home (and sometimes men), so what made me so different? He was surely fine with starting this thing, so why wouldn't he stick with it?

I thought about how he reacted for a moment. He was so quick to leave me there, naked and hard. But why? He had absolutely no problem with shoving his dick in my mouth until I bent over. My mind wondered intensely about the peculiarity. Then, it hit me. I stood up suddenly and almost sprinted toward the bathroom.

"Woah, slow down there mister." My mother chuckled as I ran past her. "Where's the fire?"

"Uh, I have to shit!" I shouted back and rushed into the bathroom. I looked up and nearly flinched at the sight. I had been right. Sitting right there on the wall beside the toilet where I had previously been bent over last week for him, was a framed drawing of something I did when I was six. I cringed and buried my head in my hands. This was a disaster.

The drawing was of my family along with the Way family. Each member a different color. The drawing was nothing fancy, just a silly thing that my mother took pride in because it looked like any other six year old drawing. On the far left, was my father drawn in green, my mother next to him in yellow. I was drawn in red right next to him. The bad part about the drawing? Well, right next to me in black, was Gerard holding a water gun with Bandit and her mom standing right next to them. I had drawn it before the divorce, and I had also completely forgotten the damn thing was still hung up in here.

I couldn't imagine how Mr. Way felt. Not only was he staring at a drawing of a picture that his friends son had done, but the damn thing was of his old family. On top of all that, he was bending over the kid that drew it and about to shove his cock in that kid.