Truth & Lies [boyxboy]

1. the school slag

It all started the morning I caught my best friend shagging the school weirdo.

I'd never knocked on Are's door. I always went right in. We'd never had a problem before.

Except earlier this morning, we had. Because he'd been on the bed, naked, and in front of him, on hands and knees, was that freak. And they were fucking.

It had been the most horrendous sight in my entire life. I had, on the other hand, kept from covering my face with my hands like some sullen teenager. But I had stormed out. And I hadn't seen or spoken to either of them since.

For once in my life, being in a different class than Are was a blessing. I'd cursed it ever since we started upper secondary two years ago, but not now. Now it was good we weren't together. Because there was no hope of ever being together they way I wanted us to be together.

Instead he was with that freak Mikkel.

Unless he was only a simple shag. In my opinion, that was all he'd ever be good for.

But no. Are was more gallant than that. He didn't take people to bed and then dump them afterwards. He was all about feelings and connections. Bloody tosser. What connection could he possibly have to that weirdo?

They were in the same class. Did they always sit together, share jokes and shoves and good-natured insults, like Are and I used to back in lower secondary?

It pissed me off. That Are was gay, since that wasn't information he'd shared with me. But what pissed me off more was he'd chosen Mikkel—instead of me. What could he possibly see in Mikkel? I hate that name. Fucking stupid, ugly name. It belongs to a stupid, ugly boy.

Mikkel with his long hair, tight clothes, and general emo-look. Is that still a thing? Didn't that go off fashion, like, years ago? Mikkel and his glasses and his stupid nose always buried in a bloody book. Mikkel and his stupid androgynous gay face—

"Hi, Gunnar."

I startled so hard the locker I leant against shook.

Speaking of gays.

It was Remi—the school's resident gay slag. Everyone talked about him behind his back. Sometimes when he could hear it too—but he didn't seem fazed by it at all. He breezed around, all proud and willing to suck you off. Or so I'd heard, anyway.

"What are you doing here?" He wasn't in my class. He wasn't supposed to have gym at the same time as me.

"Oh, you know." He shrugged. "Just getting around." He wiped his thumb over the edge of his mouth. A very distracting mouth that—apparently—did awesome blowjobs.

Like you would know a good from a bad one.

"You're all sweaty." He lifted his chin a bit, gaze taking me in from top to bottom... and up again. I swear his eyes lingered at a certain part of me. "I like that in a guy."

Oh fuck. I took an unwilling step back.

He grinned. "Are you afraid of me? Afraid of the big bad gay?"

"Shut it." I'd never actually had a conversation with him before. Why was he here striking one up with me now? "Stop taking the piss."

"I'm not taking the piss. I'm all kinds of serious." He motioned down himself and his hand hovered at a certain part of his body.

I tried not to look. I really did. But I had no willpower. I looked. Saw the bulge at the front of the tight jeans. My bulge must be showing now too, because it sure hardened right up.

"So I think you're rather fit." He took a step closer.

He's never come onto me before. Why now? He'd never so much as looked in my direction. Not that I'd ever been able to tell, anyway. Not that I'd been keeping tabs on him. No way. He was not my type. Too obvious. Too gay. Not Are.

But he was here. He was willing—or so he seemed anyway. Everyone said he was easy, that he'd blow your brains out if you wanted him to. Maybe I do want that. Maybe I do want someone to give me my first ever blowjob. It's not like it's going to be Are. That ship just sailed.

He was close now. His hand reached out, fingers trailing over the bulge in my trousers. "What do you say, Gunnar?" He cocked his head. His fringe fell over one black-lined eye. "Want to have some fun?"

Mikkel on his hands and knees, with Are behind him, thrusting his big dick inside— I shook my head, trying to get rid of the image. I didn't want to see it. It was horrible, disgusting... it hurt.

"You look like you could need some." He stepped even closer, so now he pressed up against me. He smelled of cologne. I must reek of sweat, having had an intense workout. But he didn't seem to mind.

We're all alone in here. You could need some loosening up.

"Yeah, okay."

How was I to know just how much I'd regret it?