if you ever need someone to hold you // i will be there
After I left Marcel's, I went home and got yelled at for not checking in with my parents. I came up with all the best excuses so they would no longer have a reason to get mad at me, but I'm still thinking of Marcel so I want to be alone as soon as possible.
I ended up locking myself in my bedroom to watch gay porn like someone was looking over my shoulder, embarrassed and careful of the door, keeping the volume on mute so I can hear anyone coming up the stairs. I click on the first video I see and only two minutes in, I'm completely hard. Half of me thinks getting this turned on should be wrong when it's right, and I close my laptop when it gets too weird, but already watched half the damn thing and saw pretty much everything. It makes sense when I think the guys are attractive and when they kiss each other it's okay and then they were taking off clothes and moaning and I don't think I've blushed more in my entire life.
All I can think about is being with Marcel like that. It looks like it feels so good and maybe it's a little weird to watch it on a screen, but if Marcel was doing all those things with me I'd be more than okay with it.
He'd look so good like that - innocently ruined by me. I can see him behind my eyelids, naked and arching his back when I push inside of him, moaning, getting hotter and harder as I fill him. Maybe he'd look just as good if I had my legs around him and he rocked his hips into me, holding onto my body and trying to hold himself up while he gets weaker and weaker with pleasure. If kissing him is enough to get hard, sex with him is going to be fucking amazing.
I already have my hand around myself, getting off to thoughts of having sex with Marcel, straddling his waist and being the reason he falls apart.
I come quickly and shamelessly, so needy to keep feeling this good. I hope I can make Marcel feel like this soon and I hope I don't have to wait long to see him. I wonder if he's ever gotten off to thoughts of me like this and I hope he has so I don't have to hold on long, even if I'd wait centuries for him.
I don't stop thinking about Marcel, my body so relaxed. I stay up in my room, still thinking there's hidden cameras or something and everyone I know is watching me. It's fucking stupid and I have my laptop open to the Google page, wishing there was a way I could type my damn question that didn't make me sound like a complete tool.
I mumble, "Fuck it," before typing in the question because I don't know else I'm supposed to fucking know.
How to Have Gay Sex on gaylife.about.com
I laugh at myself because people actually come up with gaylife and run websites about this stuff.
The first words I see are frottage and rimming and I shake my head and laugh at myself to make this better because I know I'm completely fucking stupid when it comes to this. If I wasn't looking at it, I'd be looking up all the things Marcel might be sad about and has been sad about when he's doing better than before. He's going to feel bad some days, but right now he's good. Right now I want him in every way possible.
The first website doesn't tell me shit, only that consent and safety are imperative.
I go to the next website and notice how much I'd didn't know and how much I'm not prepared for. I don't know if I want to top or bottom and after I see that bottoming should hurt, that scares me. There's stuff you should do to make it hurt less but I don't know if I want to do that the first time and I don't know if I want to put Marcel in pain like that either. There's special washing that you have to do and lubricant you have to use and I get nervous all over again because I want to do this with Marcel but I don't want to fuck everything up.
I read so much that the only thing I'm embarrassed about is having to go to the store to buy condoms and lube and an enema. We live in a small town and if anyone saw me I'd blast my head off.
I think of how I can do it without people seeing me. A disguise is stupid but maybe if I buy a bunch of other stuff the cashier won't notice. It's not like my friends regularly go out shopping for shit and I'm going to have to wait longer if I don't buy anything.
The next time I see my parents is the next day before they go to work, and they give me another speech on responsibility and how I still need to let them know where I am, no matter how old I am.
I wait until they're gone and don't tell them that I'm going to Marcel's.
I drive to his house, telling him I'm on my way, thankful I didn't get any calls last night. I hope he didn't need me for anything, and I'm praying he's doing a lot better even if I know that can't be completely true.
I see that Robin is still home, so I knock on the door instead of letting myself in. Marcel answers, smiling at me warmly. He looks well rested compared to yesterday and I step inside, looking around for his dad anywhere before I hug him. He has to lean down to embrace me, so I push myself up on my toes so I'm not so small.
"Better?" I ask and he draws in a deep breathe before pulling back and nodding.
He takes my hands and leads me upstairs, locking his door behind him. I hug him again because I don't want to see him sad like that ever again.
"Did you sleep okay last night?" I wonder, and he slides his hands around, my waist breathing in deeply.
"Yeah." He says, his curls brushing against my cheek. "I like sleeping with you more though."
I smile and kiss him briefly, praying to God I'll know when he's lying now. I've been oblivious for so long that I'm terrified his anxiety is going to go unknown again and I'll brush off all the little big things just because I don't want to see him sad.
"I got my exam marks today, did you check for yours?" He asks, and by the wider smile on his face I know he's done good. I never doubted that he wouldn't excel at everything though.
"I haven't looked yet." I say, completely forgetting that I should be stressed about this. "What did you get?"
He smiles giddily and I'll never get sick of seeing him like this.
"Nothing was below ninety."
I gape at him and he laughs, blushing.
"You're fucking kidding me," I say and he's grinning, shaking his head. "I think you're literally the smartest person I've ever met."
He rolls his eyes, and I'm glad I never doubted him.
"I'm so proud of you." I say, placing my hands on the sides of his cheeks. "That's so amazing."
He's blushing madly and I kiss his face, already self-conscious to see what I got in front of him.
"I can't believe you thought you were going to do bad. I don't think anyone else is going to get something better than that in the entire damn school." I go on, and he wrinkles his nose.
"I'm a lot more relieved now," he replies, giving my hips a squeeze. "Can you check yours?"
I groan, shaking my head.
"It'll be completely underwhelming compared to yours." I point out, but he immediately denies it.
"I know you did well, you worked really hard." He reminds me and I smile the support that genuinely makes me feel a bit better.
"I think I might disappoint myself," I sigh, sitting on his bed. "Maybe I just won't look."
He laughs and lays on his stomach beside me.
"I can do it for you." He says and I lay beside him, thinking it through.
"You can't tell me if they're bad. Just lie to me and say they're good." I tell him, handing him my phone.
He excitedly opens it up and I close to eyes, staying on my back so I can't see. My stomach twists and turns and I hear his thumbs tapping on the screen.
"It's loading..." He begins and I laugh, groaning.
"No commentary, please." I ask, and he agrees while I wait impatiently. "I don't think you should tell me at all, actually. Just put it away after you look."
He sits up, looking at my phone with a wide grin.
"I think you want to know." He tells me, and I bite back my smile.
"Don't bullshit me, if you're trying to make me feel better when I fucked up and if you're getting me excited over nothing, I'll be really fucking pissed."
He laughs and shakes his head.
"I'm going to tell you anyway," he says and I cringe when he opens his mouth.
"Your lowest is seventy five." He says, and I freeze, my heart shaking in my chest.
"Marce, if you're fucking joking-" I begin and he laughs again, shaking his head while I stand up.
"Seventy five, eighty two, eight three, and eight five." He declares and I grin widely.
He keeps laughing and shows them all to me and relief feels so good. I couldn't have a mark lower than sixty five for uni, so that's all I was expecting but this bumps up my chances of getting in so much more.
"I told you so," he says, giving me a hug.
"You've still done better than me, though."
"It doesn't matter," he chuckles, pressing a kiss to my mouth. "We've both done amazing."
I can think about school without panicking anymore, no more doubts on not being smart enough for these things.
"Everything has probably been sent out to uni, we should check that too since you've got three thousands unopened emails," he comments, still standing. What he says is true, the red notification over my email icon flashes 3428 because I've never bothered to delete anything.
He looks down at it a few more seconds, a crease between his eyebrows before he looks up at me.
"When was the last time you checked your email?" He wonders and I shrug.
"Honestly, like two weeks ago." I say and he smiles before looking at the screen again and beginning to speak.
"Dear Louis Tomlinson, congratulations on receiving admission to the University of Barclay. We are pleased to inform you that you have been offered an athletic scholarship, and hope to see your acceptance-"
