Pierced

"Shit, I'm sorry Paul. I'm way out of line."

"No, those were fair questions. Unfortunately my answers are probably not what you want to hear. See you around." Paul yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway.

"Thanks for checking on me," Kyle said as Paul walked away.

Back in his own room Paul sank onto his bed with a sigh. His roommate, Dale, who was also a friend and a teammate, raised an eyebrow at him. "You look like someone just killed your dog, dude."

"Just having a bad day," Paul muttered. Kyle's words kept echoing through his head. If he wasn't going find a girl to marry, and he was beginning to think that was a very bad idea for both him and the girl, then what the hell was he going to do? No self-respecting gay man would want to join him in his closet. He would either have to come out or spend the rest of his life wishing he was. That realization hit him like a sledgehammer to the back of his head.

*****

Paul tried in earnest to forget about Kyle after that. He had been obsessing over the captivating young man and it had to stop. Nothing was ever going to come of it. He couldn't have a relationship with Kyle. Kyle was very out and had made it clear that he didn't have much respect for those who weren't.

It hurt, though. For some reason it hurt much more than it should have. He felt such a strong attraction to Kyle—he'd never had it this bad before. He couldn't help jacking off to images of Kyle's sweet mouth wrapped around his cock while his big green eyes looked up at him adoringly. He'd tried not to. He'd always start out purposefully thinking of anything except Kyle, but at some point during his session, a vision of the gorgeous young man would pop into head—usually trigging an immediate orgasm. He wanted Kyle so badly, his balls ached.

He moved through the next several days in a haze of regret, attending his classes and football practice, pretending to study, and avoiding social situations, especially if they involved women. His Thursday economics class, the first time he saw Tammy after their disastrous date, was uncomfortable to say the least. Both of them were embarrassed, but they managed to reach an uneasy truce. They were polite to each other, even pleasant, but not flirtatious like they had been.

His roommate, Dale, knew something was up and asked him a few times if he was okay. Luckily he accepted Paul's noncommittal responses and didn't pry. That was one of the reasons he liked Dale. He was easy-going and open-minded, and thought everyone should mind their own business.

In spite of his efforts to forget about Kyle, the young man was still often in his thoughts. He didn't go out of his way to avoid running into Kyle, in fact, every time he stepped out of his room he kept an eye out for him. They lived on the same floor, and it was inevitable that they'd see each other sooner or later. However, after several days went by and he hadn't run into Kyle, he wondered if the other man was avoiding him.

A week later when he still hadn't run into him, it occurred to him that perhaps Kyle was so upset about the assault that he'd moved out. That thought caused a small panic and made him realize how much he wanted to see Kyle again. His logical mind told him it would never work out and it would be best if they forgot about each other, but his heart—and his cock—had other ideas.

Eight days went by before he finally saw Kyle. He had just gotten home from dinner at the Northside student café and was heading for his room. As was now his habit, when he got off the elevator he glanced down the hall towards Kyle's room, and tonight he spotted a girl with purple hair just exiting. The door swung shut quickly and he didn't get a look at Kyle.

He hesitated in the hallway, watching the girl approach. She was quite pretty but not the kind of girl he dated. Her eyes were heavily made up with purple shadow and lots of black liner, her nose and eyebrow were pierced, and she had a vine tattoo that wrapped around her neck and disappeared down her cleavage. Her outfit was goth-chic, complete with a black cincher, flowing skirt, and lace gloves. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes looked troubled. She glanced up but didn't seem to notice him. She appeared deep in thought.

She's a friend of Kyle's and she's worried about him, he guessed. His own worry ratcheted up, playing on the growing concerns he'd had since he'd last seen Kyle. Instead of going to his own room, he went to the other man's, pausing in front of the door to gather his wits about him. He didn't know what he was going to say, but he desperately wanted to see Kyle. He knocked on the door.

There was no answer. His nerves played havoc in his stomach while he waited. Several minutes went by before he had the courage to knock again.

"What do you need, Casey?" Kyle's voice came through the door. "I've already told you, I'm not going. That's final."

"Hey Kyle, it's Paul. I'd like to talk with you if that's okay," Paul called back.

The response was so long in coming that he started to feel foolish. Finally the door swung inward slightly, and Kyle filled the opening. The room behind him was very dark.

"What do you want?" Kyle asked. His eyes were heavily shadowed and his dark hair fell in lank curls around his face. He looked gaunt, like he hadn't eaten in weeks. His gray t-shirt and darks sweats hung off his thin frame.

Paul was shocked by his appearance. He looked much less healthy than he had the last time Paul had seen him. "Uh ... can I come in?" he asked.

Kyle looked at him curiously, a small frown furrowing his brow like he was trying to figure out what Paul had just said. He didn't move to open the door any further.

Dark stubble shadowed Kyle's cheeks, making him appear older and worldly. Paul took in his fine-boned face and over-large eyes. His eyes were brown today, appearing dark and enigmatic. He really is beautiful. His gaze fell to Kyle's full lips, the subject of so many of his fantasies.

Kyle smirked without humor and swung the door open. Paul stepped in on automatic pilot. The room was stifling and dark, the only light coming from the glow of a laptop on Kyle's cluttered bed. Paul realized that a blanket had been hung over the window. The room was a disaster. Books and papers were scattered across the desk and the bed, and the floor was liberally littered with clothes, shoes, and pieces of garbage.

Paul leaned against the door and Kyle stood a few feet away, his arms folded defensively across his chest. Paul stared at him, taking him in again. He looked ... haunted.

"So what did you want to say?" Kyle asked, his voice taking on a sarcastic tone. "Or did you just come to stare at me? Or maybe to kiss me?" He raised an eyebrow.

That suggestion came as a shock to Paul, but his body responded instantly. His chest filled with heat and his cock started to plump. He took a step toward Kyle. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but he looked pale.

"I've been worried about you," he said. "You ... you don't seem well."

Kyle's slightly sardonic expression didn't change. "Yeah ... well..." He snapped his mouth shut and looked at the floor. Finally he looked back up and asked, "What do you want Paul?"

"I ... I wanted to see you." Paul's heart was beating too loudly in his chest. Kyle was obviously not doing well, and Paul needed to figure out how to make things better for him.

"Well, you've seen me," Kyle responded shortly.

"Yes, but ... I want..." Paul trailed off. He had been about to say he wanted to help Kyle, but he wasn't sure that the young man would want his help.

"That's what I thought," Kyle said. He stepped into Paul's space suddenly and grabbed his arms, pushing him back against the door. "You want to kiss me," he said. Then his lips were on Paul's, warm and demanding.

All the synapses in Paul's brain fired at once, causing him to short circuit. It took a few seconds for the backup systems to come on line, and when they finally did he found that his arms were clutching Kyle's slight body against his, and his lips were pressing firmly against the other man's in a passionate kiss. He could feel Kyle's lip ring, adding extra sensation to an already mind-blowing kiss. Kyle's lips were soft and full, but not yielding; they were demanding. Challenging. Conquering. Paul felt dominated and a strange feeling of consent fluttered through him. He had never liked it when his dates tried to take control; aggression had always turned him off and made him pull away. But Kyle's onslaught had him moaning with desire, needing more.

His hand came up and tangled in the Kyle's hair, holding his head while his tongue thrust out and flicked over Kyle's lip ring. Kyle parted his lips, and Paul's tongue plunged into the other man's sweet mouth, plundering it. He felt the rasp of Kyle's rough cheek against his. He touched the side of Kyle's face with his fingers, confirming the stubble. Oh God! I'm French-kissing a man! Instead of causing an instant panic as he would have expected, he was overwhelmed with a passion so hot he felt like he was going to burst into flames.

A moan came from deep in his throat. He became aware that his cock was fully engorged and ready to burst. Kyle's body was pressed firmly against his and he felt an iron bar pushing against his thigh that could only be Kyle's own erection.

This is too good. This is too much. His brain spun with sensation. He'd never been so turned on in his life. Finally the need to breath overcame his need to make Kyle swallow his tongue and he pulled away gasping for air.

"Dude!" Kyle's voice was a low growl.

"Yeah," Paul panted in agreement. Then his mouth was back on Kyle's again, devouring him. His tongue snaked back inside the boy's hot mouth and Kyle sucked on it, hard. Paul almost orgasmed right then. Kissing a woman had never been like this. Not even close.

Kyle let out a desperate whimper and began to hump against Paul. Paul felt the steel of another shaft against his own. It was better than his dreams. Oh God! Oh God! His balls drew up.

Suddenly Kyle pulled away, retreating quickly to the other side of the room. Paul felt bereft as cool air took the place of the warm body he'd had in his arms. His mind was in a sex-drunken daze. His cock was painfully hard in his sweats, and he was panting like he'd just run a mile at full speed.

He stared across the room at Kyle who was looking at him with an expression that Paul couldn't read.

"Kyle..." Paul whispered. The longing in his voice was shocking in its intensity. Oh God! I want you so bad. I need ... I need...

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," Kyle said.

Paul's balls began to ache as his cock realized that orgasm was no longer imminent. He let out a small moan, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the door. His brain was still awash with lust. Heat flowed up and down his body. He took deep breaths trying to regain his control. He became aware that his underwear was damp; he'd been leaking precum. His dazed mind tried to analyze what just happened. He'd never been so out-of-control turned-on in his life. He hadn't even realized it was possible.

"I'm sorry, dude" he heard Kyle say. "Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes and looked at him. He was standing at the far end of the room looking worried.

"I'm..." The first word came out so gravelly it was almost incomprehensible. Paul swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried again. "I'm fine." Better. Still raspy. Fuck, I am so turned on right now a breath of wind would cause me to blow.

Kyle sat down in his desk chair and put his head in his hands. "I'm really sorry, Paul. I ... I don't know what else to say."

"Why did you do that?" Paul asked.

Kyle glanced up at him, and his eyes were full of guilt. "It was wrong of me. I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad. I just want to know why."

Kyle picked a pen up off his desk and began to twiddle it between his fingers. "I wanted to." He quickly followed this assertion with clarification, his words spilling out one after another. "That's part of it. I mean, you're fucking gorgeous, of course I wanted to." He glanced briefly at Paul as if to gauge his reaction, then looked at the pen in his hands again. "But part of it is I thought you might want to too. I mean, when I saw you at the door, the way you looked at me, I thought you wanted to kiss me. And I guess I wanted to find out whether or not you'd like it. Whether you were just a bit curious or really gay."

"Really gay," Paul echoed, still trying to sort his thoughts.

Kyle looked up at him, and his eyes slid to the wet spot on Paul's sweats where his still-swollen cock had leaked. "I'd say definitely," he said.

Oh hell! Paul stumbled a few steps and sank down on the bed, leaning forward with his hands on his knees staring at the floor.

"I'm sorry," Kyle said again. "I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong. I never should have pushed..."

"No, it's okay," Paul interrupted. "I ... it's something I needed to know about myself. I've never ... fuck! I can't believe..." Paul had been about to say he couldn't believe how turned on he'd been, but somehow he couldn't get the words out. "I've known I was attracted to guys for a long time. I've never acted on it. I didn't realize it would be so ... intense."

"Yeah, intense," Kyle said.

"Is it always like that?"

"No." Kyle met his eye and something sparked between them causing a flush in Paul's chest. "It's not."

Oh. Paul didn't know what to think of that. He needed time to process what had just happened. Suddenly he realized something hard was jabbing him in his butt cheek. He shifted and pulled a book out from under him.

"Oh!" Kyle was suddenly on his feet. He leaned over and grabbed something from off the bed behind Paul. Paul caught a glimpse of a black rubber object in Kyle's hands as he yanked open a desk drawer and dropped it inside. He slammed the drawer shut and looked at Paul apprehensively.

Paul's brain took a second to process what he'd seen, and when it did, his eyes widened. Was that a butt plug that Kyle just hid? Paul's cock, which had started to soften, was rapidly filling again. He choked back a moan as a zing of pain shot through his confused balls. Fuck! Was it really a butt plug? How hot is that?

Kyle must have seen something in Paul's expression, for he averted his eyes and his face flushed. "Sorry my room is such a mess," he mumbled, sitting down in the chair again and still not meeting Paul's eye.

"Yeah, last time I was here you must have just cleaned it."

"Usually I keep it clean. It's just lately I ... haven't."

Paul glanced up at Kyle sharply. The overwhelming experience of kissing Kyle had pulled his mind away from his reason for being here, but clearly the young man was having issues. He was probably suffering from PTSD. "Have you been to talk to anyone about what happened?"

"You mean like a counselor?"

"Yeah. There's a hotline you can call. You don't even have to go in to see anyone."

"No," Kyle said, seeming to fold in on himself. "I don't want to talk about it."

Paul felt helpless. He could see that Kyle needed help but if he didn't want it, what could he do? "You should talk to someone about it," he said gently. "It will make you feel better."

Kyle shrugged, his eyes on the floor.

Paul noticed two bottles of prescription medication sitting on the desk next to the bed. He picked them up and discovered that the antibiotics bottle was empty, but the pain medication still had quite few pills in it. "You didn't take all your pain meds," he said, setting the bottles back down.

"Yeah," Kyle said, pushing his lank hair back from his face. "I don't like the way they make me feel."

Paul almost teased him with, "If you take three at a time, what can you expect?" but he thought the better of it and said nothing. At least Kyle wasn't on drugs. Or at least not on prescription drugs. Paul examined him closely.

He was dirty. There was a spot on his t-shirt. His hair was greasy. Paul remembered touching it. At the time he hadn't noticed, but thinking of it now, his hair had definitely felt dirty, and he had a stronger body odor than he should have had.

"How long has it been since you've taken a shower?" he asked.

Kyle's head jerked up and he looked at Paul with a deer-in-the-headlights look. It took him a while to answer. He finally wet his lips and said, "A few days."

"A few?" Paul challenged. He looked like he hadn't showered in at least a week.

"Well ... maybe a bit longer," Kyle hedged.

Suddenly it hit Paul. Kyle was raped in the shower. He was afraid to go back there. "You haven't had a shower since you were attacked, have you?"

Kyle stiffened. "I've ... I've washed off in the sink," he said in a small voice.

"Oh Kyle!" Paul's heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

Kyle glared him. "I'm fine," he said huffily.

"You're not fine," Paul said, jumping to his feet and starting to pace. He had to kick some of clothes, shoes, and a Frisbee out of the way to do it. "You won't come out of your room..." This was a guess, but Kyle didn't deny it. "You're afraid to take a shower. You're not cleaning up after yourself—your room's a disaster. You're hiding in here in the dark." As he said this last bit, he went to window and pulled the nail out of the wall that was holding up one side of the blanket. He let the make-shift curtain drop open and city light spilled in. "You need help, Kyle."

Kyle was silent for a few seconds, his jaw clenched. Then he said, "I'm thinking of getting out of here. I'll see if I can get into Evergreen or somewhere else for next semester."

"No, Kyle!" Paul immediate reaction was devastation. He had finally found someone that he was ... what? He didn't know, but he wanted to explore what they'd started. He definitely wanted to find out where they could take it. He didn't want Kyle to leave. He almost dropped to his knees in front of Kyle and took his hands, but luckily his filter kicked in in time for once and instead he plopped down on the bed again and leaned forward. "You can't drop out!"

"I'm not dropping out. I'm just transferring. To somewhere that's a bit more gay-friendly."

Oh hell!

Paul tried to look at the situation objectively. Is it in Kyle's best interest to transfer? Would he really be happier someplace else?

"Do you have friends here?" he asked. "Do you like the academic program? How much is it going to put you behind to transfer?"

Kyle sighed. "I do have friends here. So far, I mean, up until I was assaulted, I've really been enjoying this school. Sure, there's a few things I don't like, but for the most part I've had a hell of a good time, and I'm learning cool stuff. I don't know how much it would put me behind to transfer. It might already be too late to get in for next semester and that would put me a year behind. My parents would not be happy about that, but I could get a job and work meanwhile."

Paul's heart sank. It seemed like Kyle had already given it a lot of thought. "It seems kind of drastic. I mean ... I'm not trying to minimize what happened to you. God! But I'm not sure running away is the answer."

"I'm not running away," Kyle said. "I'm just moving to a safer environment."

Paul didn't know what to say about that. He had never felt unsafe at WSU, but he wasn't openly gay either. "Why don't you take this one step at a time?" he said. "Don't do anything major just yet—give it a few more weeks before you make up your mind. Why don't I go with you to take a shower? That way you won't be alone in the shower area."

"You'd do that?"

"Well, yeah. It's no big deal. I can be in the next stall over; I have to shower too sometimes." Paul usually took his shower at the gym after practice, but Kyle didn't need to know that.