The Carnivore [boyxboy]

Chapter 6

Thankfully, Deacon didn’t come over Sunday. Rory spent that time guiltily staring at his sister, who noticed and gave glares in return. 

“What’s your problem?” she hissed later in the afternoon. 

Not what she thought it was. Close, maybe, but Rory really only had to put two and two together to figure out what she and Deacon had done that Friday night. It was only what happened after that bothered Rory.

How would Kristen handle something like that? Not well, Rory imagined. Everything was so set and perfect for her. 

Rory went back to hiding in his room, again pulling out the magazine with the article on Greece. He stared at the faded picture for a while, biting his lip. So Deacon was gay and liked men. Did that mean the same for Rory?

Maybe that was it. 

Rory spent the rest of the evening doing his best to avoid Kristen. Dinner was quiet, and Kristen kept shooting warning looks. Obviously Rory wasn’t allowed to mention anything about Friday. 

It made him feel weird, still. Wrong. A little dirty, even. Deacon had snuck into his room at night and… he just did it. 

Rory stabbed a bite of steak, pretending it was Deacon in his mind. 

He showered, spending a little extra time under the water. He paid extra attention to the fading marks on his collarbone, grinding soap into it. That shouldn’t have happened.

Rory closed his eyes and sighed. He would use female contacts in the school to hunt Deacon down, corner him, and tell him off. 

Threaten to make him sick, somehow. Rory could figure out how to do that. 

Going to sleep, Rory tried to keep his mind blank. He thought he did pretty well at that, until he woke up hard. 

He stole the bathroom first, hoping it would go down. He tried a cold shower, despite that he had just showered the previous night. This hadn’t happened before, hadn’t happened before Deacon. This was Deacon’s fault. 

Maybe Rory liked men, too. He wouldn’t deny that idea. But he couldn’t do anything with Deacon. 

The shower wasn’t helping any, and he shivered. He turned the water back up to a decent temperature, and looked down at himself. 

Rory closed his eyes, wrapping one of his slim hands around his morning erection. It felt weird to actually touch himself like that, but… good at the same time. He started to stroke slowly at first, but he only ended up wanting more. 

Wanting more sensation, wanting to feel even better, wanted the feeling to happen faster. 

The shower water slicked his hand as he pumped faster, head bowed under the spray. 

The pleasure kept climbing, making his legs feel slightly week. Rory put out another hand on the shower wall in front of him, leaning into it and trying to move faster. The feeling got more intense, and he loved it. 

He wanted to hold right there, make it last forever, but still he tried to get more out of it. 

He finally released; his hand tightened for a moment before slowing down and working the last of it out. He lazily stared at the come marking the shower wall, still slowly stroking. 

It had been over too soon. He should have stopped earlier, he berated himself. He should have held that good feeling and made it last longer. He didn’t want it to be over.

“Rory!” His sisters voice screamed through the door. “I need f*cking in!”

Rory snapped back up in the shower, feeling embarrassed. He used the shower water to clean off the wall, and quickly finished his shower. What was wrong with him? 

He finished and got dressed before letting Kristen in. They fought over the sink—Rory trying to brush his teeth, and her trying to put on make-up. 

They both made it out in time, though giving each other a couple glares. 

“Since when do you shower in the morning?” Kristen hissed. 

Rory didn’t answer, and Kristen rolled her eyes. Their mother hurried them out the door and to the car, before dropping them off at school. With an hour to kill, Rory retreated to the art room again. 

He found an art teacher to let him in and sat in his corner. He was able to focus some on his painting, the pink and greens of it distracting. 

Rory cleaned up before school started, and hung out in the commons. It only took a little asking around to find out Deacon’s lunch and off-hour. Rory went to his morning classes, spending one of them listening to Aaron complain about the batting cages on Saturday. 

Rory ate lunch with his friends, still not seeing Deacon. Rory had study hall when Deacon had lunch, so would talk then. Rory just hoped Kristen didn’t have the same lunch, too. 

Half way through study hall, Rory went on a prolonged bathroom trip. He stood outside Deacon’s class a minute before it let out, and waited. Deacon was mid conversation with someone, but dropped it almost instantly at seeing Rory. 

He broke out into a wide smile and immediately made his way towards Rory across the hall. “What’s up?” Deacon asked. 

Rory forgot his agenda for the moment, his eyes more fixed on the cut and bruise just to the side of Deacon’s right eye. 

“What happened to you?” Rory asked, mentally cursing himself for getting distracted. 

Deacon shrugged. “Rolled out of bed this morning and hit it on my bedside table,” he laughed it off easily. 

Even given the few hours it had been, it looked too old to be from the morning. Rory narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and Deacon seemed to realize he’d been caught. 

“It’s nothing,” he added. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class? Or do I get to call you a ditcher now too?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Rory protested. Again, he was starting to get distracted. “We need to talk.”

Deacon’s face tightened for a moment, but he forced a smile. “This way,” he pointed down to the end of the hall, as everyone was leaving it. Rory followed to a side door that led outside, and Deacon leaned on the door. “What’s up?” he repeated. 

“Saturday wasn’t fair,” Rory snapped. “You can’t just expect me to do what you want.”

Deacon sagged against the door, looking down at his feet. “Right,” he agreed. “Sorry.” 

Rory hesitated. He thought it would be harder than that. 

“So that’s it,” Rory stated. “We’re not doing anything like… that, anymore. Okay?”

“Okay,” Deacon agreed again. “You should get back to class.”

Rory huffed and half turned. He paused. He should ask more about that bruise. No, Deacon wasn’t his problem. Rory walked back to his study hall, sliding into his desk and pulling out his math homework. 

That was less complicated.