Just One of Those Things Ch. 02bycforester44©
It was early Friday evening and I was going out to a little blues club near campus. I usually avoid crowds but I had it on good authority that Julian Monaco would be there. I gave myself a final once over in the mirror and headed out the door to my fifth story walk up. I was on the last flight of stairs when my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number.
There was a long silence and I was about to hang up. "Hi, Jack. It's Vince."
I came to a stop in my building's lobby. "Hey. What's going on?"
Another pause. "Well, you remember when you told me to call you? And I thought..." he drifted off. Even over the phone I could tell he was pacing. "You know, it's Friday night, this probably isn't a good time. I'm sorry. Maybe another..."
"No, no." I cut him off. "I was just going to stay in and watch T.V. anyway. Do you want to meet somewhere to talk?"
"Um...yeah, I'd like that. Why don't you give me your address and I'll come over?"
I knew Vince was trying to be polite by not making me go out of my way. But he wasn't going to be comfortable opening up in someone else's space. Or a public space for that matter, given the subject material.
"You know, why don't I come to you?"
"No, you don't need to do that..." He was wavering.
"I'll tell you what. I haven't eaten yet, so if you feed me we'll call it even."
"Well, okay." he sounded relieved. "So long as it's not an inconvenience."
"Not at all." He gave me his address and I hung up with a final reassurance. Well, it looked like Project Julian was taking the back burner once again.
That first night Vince ended up talking for five hours straight. Even then he only stopped because he got hoarse. He had a lifetime's worth of internal conflict that he had never been able to voice before, and even I was surprised how much he really needed to get it out.
His father, not surprisingly, took up the bulk of our conversation. Vince's mother had died in a car accident when he was four, so his father was the only parent he had ever really known. After his mother's death his father could have taken the easy route and left his sons to the care of nannies and boarding schools, but instead he devoted himself to them completely - their education, their health, their emotional development, their moral values. Vince and his brothers became his primary concern, above all others.
From a very young age Vince's father was the central figure in his life, his hero, his role model, his estimation of what a man should be, and Vince's resulting dedication was nothing short of astounding. His single greatest goal in life was to make his father proud, but in his mind he had already failed. He was a liar and a cheat, and a liability to everything he believed in. That poor guy was going to crash and burn someday, and the more I thought about it the more it got to me. All the more so because there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.
Vince was reluctant at first, but became comfortable with me quickly. I could tell he was surprised that I was such a good listener. Granted, I know that I don't exactly come off as the nurturing type. When he asked me about it I told him about the LGBT group where I volunteered. It was a campus organization but also took members from the neighboring state and community colleges, helping kids adjust to their new environment and providing a sympathetic ear to those coming from difficult backgrounds. A similar group of people had really helped me out when I started college (I didn't tell Vince that part), so I understood its value.
Recently an unorganized assortment of hecklers (I didn't call them protestors because that implies that they had values) had started showing up outside of the building where the group met. The school administration said they couldn't do anything about it, and, even though we were well aware it would make things worse, it was damned hard at times to keep things from coming to blows. In a reversal of roles, Vince spent the better part of a week letting me vent my frustration and anger to him. The hecklers still showed up on a fairly regular basis, but, surprisingly, having Vince actually made it a lot more manageable.
Before long I was spending several evenings a week at Vince's apartment, and not just as a counselor and tutor. Over the course of just a few weeks I was surprised to realize we had actually become really good friends.
It had started one Sunday afternoon when Vince was still floundering through the assigned cases for the next day, but I was getting fidgety to get home and watch the Pats game. Vince noticed and suggested that I stay and watch it at his place. We had ended up in front of the T.V. with a bowl of popcorn and a couple of Cokes. Vince cheered for the Jets, not because he actually liked them (I had seen him more than once in a Giants jersey), but just to irk me. To my embarrassment and Vince's amusement I didn't realize it until the third quarter. Being the mature adult I was I poured the leftover popcorn down the back of his shirt.
It was Friday night and I was at Vince's apartment for the third time that week. Vince needed all the study time he could get, so I was filling out internship applications for him while he poured over the day's notes. Several of the forms asked for his full name.
"Vince?" I asked.
"What's your middle name?"
When I looked up at his face I saw that he was serious. I burst out laughing. "Vincent Archibald Tomlison. Oh my God, you poor bastard."
I already teased him mercilessly about being named after Vincent Price. A couple weeks ago I had even tricked him into watching The Masque of the Red Death. Ever since he has insisted on screening every movie I picked out. This was just too good.
He narrowed his eyes at me. "What's your middle name then?"
"I don't have one."
Vince shot me an incredulous look. "What do you mean you don't have one?"
"My full legal name is Jack Ulman. That's what it says on my birth certificate. You would not believe what it took to explain that to the bar examiners."
My birth had been a difficult one, and my mother had been too stoned on painkillers to remind my over-stressed father that my name was supposed to be John Anthony. "Jack" went on the birth certificate, and they never bothered to correct it.
"How can you not have a middle name?"
"How can your middle name be Archibald?"
"It's a family name."
"Well, that's boring. Not the name of some fifties science fiction movie star?"
Vince groaned. "Don't start with the Vincent Price thing again." He tried to change the subject. "So, your actual name is Jack? Not a nickname for John?"
"Certainly," I retorted in an eerie Vincent Price imitation. Over the last few weeks I had gotten pretty good, if I said so myself. "But a name is nothing more than a mask, and what mask will hide you from the cold grasp of the grave? Bwah-ha-ha-ha!" I curled my fingers and laughed demonically.
"That never gets old, does it?" He asked with a forced straight face.
I finished the applications at the same time he finished cleaning up his notes. Today's lesson had been pretty straightforward stuff, and we had finished with the other classes earlier. A few weeks ago this would have been my cue to head home, but now it didn't even enter my mind. It was only 6:30 and I wasn't going anywhere. Vince already had the take-out menus.
"We got pizza, Thai, Greek, Chinese..."
"For the love of God, not Chinese." Vince had only been to my apartment a couple of times, but once would be enough to know that the grease from the Chinese restaurant on the ground floor saturated the entire building. If I never smelled another fried duck it would be too soon.
Vince grinned at me and I realized he had been teasing. I had to give it to him, he could turn the tables when he wanted to.
"Don't you ever cook?" I scolded him.
"Hell no. I'm not spending what free time I have standing over a stove."
"Greek then. I had pizza for lunch. And breakfast." I didn't feel too guilty letting Vince buy me dinner almost every night. I could charge a lot more for tutoring than he spent on a pizza or order of falafels, so I figured he was still coming out ahead.
I scanned through Vince's sizable DVD collection, which consisted almost entirely of action, horror, and sci-fi, heavy on the gratuitous violence. Our taste in movies was practically identical.
It had been a long week, and I was still stressed out about those assholes harassing my kids at the support group, so I figured I deserved a little entertainment. I picked out the most ridiculous movie I could find, The Core, a natural disaster movie that makes Armageddon look like the model of plausibility.
"Wait, let's see it," Vince hollered from the kitchen when he heard the DVD player open.
I rolled my eyes and held up the DVD. "You're never going to trust me again, are you?"
"Absolutely not. What do you want to eat?"
"The least greasy thing on the menu."
Vince ordered and then plopped next to me on the couch. When I first started coming over he would take a chair rather than share the couch, but seemed to have grown comfortable with my close proximity. Maybe a little too much so.
The entertaining thing about watching movies with Vince wasn't the movies, but Vince himself. He would keep up this goofy Mystery Science Theatre-esqe commentary that was infinitely more entertaining than the movie itself. It should have been annoying, but instead I found it hilarious.
By the time Aaron Eckhart was demonstrating how the Earth's magnetic field works by blowtorching a piece of fruit Vince was well and truly worked up, and I was lying on my side, laughing so hard I could barely breathe.
"You know," Vince said, "my brothers would usually have gagged me by now."
I was still out of breath so I just shook my head. It had been a very long time since I had so much fun with someone.
When the movie finished neither of us were ready to call it a night, so Vince put on The Terminator.
I gave a disappointed sigh that he had actually put on a good movie. But now that he wasn't constantly pointing out plot holes it was much easier to see how fidgety he was getting.
I had started noticing Vince's odd behavior a couple weeks ago. The restlessness, subconscious invasion of my personal space, the heated looks out of the corner of his eye when he thought I wasn't looking. He was getting the itch again, and in record time from what I understood. I knew it was my fault, that I had pushed things too far with the flirting, revving him up with nowhere to go. At this rate it wouldn't be long before he broke. And then what?
I was starting to get anxious about the idea of Vince going out and fucking some complete stranger. He might be a good judge of character, but he wasn't a mind reader. Some of the worst ones, the real psychos, are the hardest to see through. Vince had been very, very lucky so far to not have any negative experiences, but I wouldn't count on it lasting forever.
Which inevitably got an idea going in my head.
Vince was desperate for sexual contact. But it didn't have to be with some potentially dangerous stranger who could hurt him, out him, or worse. I was safe and available. I knew what he needed and could give it to him no strings attached. And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
I tried to keep my own feelings out of the equation, but there was no denying I was seriously lusting after Vince, and had been since the first time I jacked off about him. It had definitely not been the last. To tell the truth he had become something of a distraction in that department, but try as I might he had completely usurped the spot that Julian had once held in my fantasies.
I knew that he might very well turn me down. Some guys get weirded out by the idea of casual sex with a friend. Not to mention that physically he was way out of my league. But I wanted him to know he had the option if he needed it.
I figured this was as good a time as any to make my offer. At the rate he was working himself up I was afraid to keep putting it off.
"I've noticed that you've been acting kind of...odd...lately."
It took him a moment to realize what I was referring to. He blushed. "Sorry."
"No. I understand. It's got to be hard, only having sex once or twice a year. I can't imagine the kind of strain that must put on you."
He nodded slowly.
"And me teasing and flirting with you like that, it must have made it a lot harder."
He nodded again.
"Yeah, sorry about that again. But I was thinking, if you want, I could...you know...help you out."
There was a long pause. "What do you mean?"
"If you want me to...and you can say no, I won't be offended...I'll give you a blow job."
He started absently tapping his foot, and I thought I was making him uncomfortable. Until I noticed the bulge in his pants. I had really put one over on him. But I would make it up to him right now if he would let me.
"You don't have to do that."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Trust me, it wouldn't be a chore."
He was silent for a long time. Well, I had promised not to flirt with him, I certainly wasn't going to push this without a signed and sealed invitation...
"Okay." He said it so softly I barely caught it.
"I said okay." Mmm. That was more like it.
"Now all right?"
He actually shivered. Then nodded his head. "Yeah."
I stopped the movie - machine gun fire messes with my rhythm - and kneeled down in front of him, pulling him to the edge of the couch and spreading his legs.
"Condom?" he asked.
I looked up at him.
"If you'd be more comfortable," he added.
"I'd rather not, if that's okay?" I didn't give unprotected blow jobs to just anyone, but with Vince I wasn't worried.
He gave a little smile and nodded.
I felt him through his jeans, and felt my own cock respond when I realized that he was already very hard. I undid his fly and yanked down his jeans and underwear together, making his cock slap up against his belly. I pushed his shirt up out of the way, then just sat back for a moment admiring him, half naked and exposed. He really was a work of art. And for the next half hour he was mine.
I got right down to business. I licked a slow line from the base of his cock up to the head, tasting a drop of pre-cum from his slit. I actually moaned at the same time he did. I will admit that cock sucking was not my best or favorite event. But Vince...he was on a different level. As soon as I looked at him, tasted him, I wanted to blow him more than I ever had anyone in my life.
In the back of my mind I was already forming the idea of doing this on a regular basis, to save Vince from the stress and risk of nameless one night stands. And for less altruistic reasons, of course. A fuck buddy in addition to a confidante, that could work, right?
I wrapped my lips around him and took him in to the entrance of my throat, a little too far in my enthusiasm, making me gag. I squashed my knee jerk reaction to push away, then moved back up to suck and lick the sensitive underside of the head. Vince was trying so hard not to squirm. He needed this, and I was pleased I could be the one to give it to him.
His hand twisted gently into my hair, the other stroked the side of my neck. Anyone else and that would have been a problem, but I actually found the gesture to be kind of nice coming from Vince. He wasn't forcing or holding me, just touching.
For half an hour I brought him close and then backed off again and again, knowing the payoff would be better for him the longer he lasted. My jaw was starting to cramp up, and even though I wasn't ready for it to end I couldn't go on much longer. Maybe I needed more practice. Mmm. That was an idea.
I was holding the base of his cock with one hand, and with the other I began to rub his thigh next to his balls. He whimpered and spread his legs, giving me whatever access I wanted. The trust and wantonness of the gesture sent a flash of heat through my body. Even though I hadn't touched myself I was rock hard and aching in my jeans. I cupped his balls with my fingers and used my thumb to massage his perineum. His reaction was immediate. He thrust against my hand, his cock grew in my mouth and started to gush pre-cum.
I sucked him a little harder, a little faster. He didn't need much to get him over the edge. He cried out and couldn't help thrusting his hips up to my mouth, making me choke slightly and lose the first spurt down my throat. I threw my weight into his hips to make sure that didn't happen again and sucked him through his orgasm, swallowing his load as he gave it to me. Not part of my usual bag of tricks, but I could definitely make an exception for him.
Once his body relaxed I found myself licking him clean. I think he had addictive qualities, because I was usually neutral at best to the taste of cum. I didn't want to move yet, so even after I was finished I leaned my head against his thigh under the guise of taking a rest.
When I finally looked up with a self-satisfied grin I saw that he wasn't smiling back at me.
I froze as my eyes met his. Why was he looking at me like that? That look pinned me to the floor. It was then that I realized he had never taken his hand from the side of my face. I found myself unable to move and my heart was pounding in my ears.
Slowly he slid off of the couch and dropped to his knees in front of me so we were face to face, only inches apart. He never took his eyes from mine, and he was breathing as fast as I was. And instead of pulling away I found I was nuzzling into his hand, and he responded by stroking his thumb along the corner of my mouth.
He brought his other hand up, cupping my face and neck in his hands. He closed the short distance between us, and kissed me on the cheek, the forehead, the bridge of my nose. Nobody had ever kissed me like that. Ever. My good judgment dissipated like fog in the sun. I knew I should push him away but I couldn't find the will to do it. When his lips finally touched mine I was a goner.
Against my will I opened my mouth to him, allowing his warm, soft tongue to trace mine. I've got to stop this. He wrapped a hand into my hair, and this time he did hold me, pulling me in, taking my mouth with his while I let him do it.
Without any conscious decision I was suddenly kissing him back. My hands found their way around his waist, pulling him flush to my body. He groaned and kissed me harder.
He broke the kiss, but before I could recover coherent thought he had his mouth on the side of my neck. He immediately found a sweet spot, making me gasp and hold him tighter.
He obviously took this as a go ahead. One hand left my face and traced down my side to my waist, where he slid under my shirt and made contact with the skin of my stomach. The touch made me shiver.
Then he traced his fingers down my abdomen to the top button of my jeans. When his palm brushed the straining bulge in my pants it was almost enough to make me shoot off.
And it was just enough of a dose of reality to break out of the brain fog.
I scrambled to my feet and stepped back. When Vince tried to follow me I put up a hand to stop him.
"Whoa!" I shouted. We weren't playing around anymore, and now that I had my head clear it was stopping right here. "This is getting way out of hand, Vince. I'm sorry I teased you. This was an apology. That's all. Understand?"
Vince swallowed hard, still on the ground, on his knees, color quickly rising in his face. He didn't look me in the eye. He tried to say something, but it caught in his throat and he could only nod.