Pretty Boy

We chatted pleasantly about this and that--classes, clothes, the news. She remarked on the softness of my hands, which pleased me immensely, and we talked moisturizers for a few minutes.

"Greg should moisturize," Rana giggled. "His hands are like sandpaper."

I joined her in laughter, though I felt an uncomfortable little pang at the suggestion that she had been getting cozy with Greg's hands. Greg had consistently denied my implications that they were "together", but he had also told me he wasn't likely to have sex in our dorm. He might have been with her in hers, and just not told me. "I'll bet," I finally replied. "That's why I take such good care of myself. Not many people want sandpaper on their sensitive bits." I winked.

She raised both of her elegant eyebrows. "Oh, are you implying Greg's hands have been anywhere near my 'sensitive bits'?" She smirked.

I shrugged innocently. "You do seem... fond of each other."

"We are. We're very good friends, Markus. That's all."

I cocked my head. "Has he never... asked you out? Or vice versa?"

She smiled distantly and contemplated how to respond. Finally, she leaned over the table to get closer to me so that she could make herself heard over the din without having to yell. "I like him. But he's... well, he's in a really complicated place right now."

I followed her lead and leaned close to her, sensing some intimate secrets that I might be able to get a piece of. "He's had some... problems, or what?" I wondered. "I mean, he seems to have a pretty short fuse."

Her smile turned apologetic. "I can't really say anything more. I know he's... rough around the edges, but... yunno, some people find that attractive."

I studied her for a few moments. "Do you prefer rough, Rana... or soft?" I placed my hand over hers.

Her cheeks darkened a little. Her eyes lowered, and she bit down on one lusciously red lip. "Oh... you are cute... princess," she chuckled somewhat awkwardly, placing her opposite hand over mine.

Now it was my turn to flush. "I swear to God, I'm not nearly as much of a douche as Greg probably makes me out to be. He brings out my absolute worst side--I wish it weren't so!"

She laughed, sounding surer this time. "Has it occurred to you that you do the same to him?"

I shrugged. "A little, I guess."

She patted my hand, and then pulled hers back, placing them both around her drink. "You know... Greg's actually a really neat guy. I wish you two didn't clash so much."

I folded my hands, a little disappointed and, I suppose, a touch embarrassed. I'd taken a chance, and I was pretty sure I'd just been brushed off. I sighed, not exactly wanting to keep talking about my roommate. "Maybe I'd find him a bit easier to put up with if he took a little better care of his living space, and himself... and a new wardrobe would help. All those sweats and shabby runners--ugh!"

She laughed merrily. "Sure, he'd look fab in a nice suit and patent leather shoes, but we can't all afford designer clothes and top-of-the-line moisturizers." She smiled and leaned forward again. "Pretty boy."

I smirked and lowered my gaze. "You must think I'm horribly spoiled."

"Are you spoiled?"

I sighed again. I felt a little on the spot, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as it might have been. Rana wasn't just a pretty face--she was very easy to talk to, and I certainly understood why Greg liked spending time with her. "Yes," I admitted. "I'm spoiled. I'll admit it. Rich parents, only child, trust fund. I guess it's hard for me to see things the way most people do. I don't want to be an ignorant douche, but I only know one way of life. My parents very abruptly decided to pull the rug out from under me recently after giving me everything my whole life, and... it's been a struggle to adjust." I smiled weakly. It felt good to vent, and I hadn't really been able to put things in perspective until now.

Rana nodded slowly. "I see. Markus... no one wants to give the poor little rich boy any sympathy when most of us have to work our butts off for every little thing... but it's true you didn't earn that silver spoon upbringing anymore than, say, Greg earned his... less privileged upbringing. Suddenly being turned out on your ass by your folks must have been a rude awakening--I can understand that. You're allowed to struggle to adjust." She touched my hand briefly, and then gripped her glass again. "It doesn't mean I'm gonna feel sorry for you, though." She laughed lyrically.

"That's... fair," I replied, joining her in a laugh and feeling a little more at ease. "So... Greg. He doesn't have a job as far as I know. Does he work summers to put himself through school, or what?"

"No, he doesn't take summer breaks. And his program's too intensive to let anyone work even part-time."

"So... scholarship?" I guessed.

Rana nodded. "It's not what you think, though." She grinned widely.

"Oh? What do I think?" I sat back in my chair, smiling playfully.

"You think football, don't you?"

I nodded, and she shook her head.

"Academic," she corrected.

I raised my eyebrows. "What program is he in? I've never talked to him about classes."

"Aerospace Engineering."

I gaped at her, once more leaning forward on the table. "You're kidding!"

"Nope," she giggled. "Seriously. Greg's brilliant. He only plays football for shits and giggles. And to blow off steam."

I scrunched up my face, trying to process this. I knew the Engineering programs were incredibly competitive. He certainly would have had to be brilliant to not only qualify, but also to get by on an academic scholarship, not to mention sustaining extracurriculars like sports all the while. "Damn," I finally murmured. I was the bigger ass--there was no way around it. My trust fund was paying my tuition, I'd never had to work, and I was taking business courses mainly with the ambition of getting a job wherein I could wear a suit every day. On top of all of this, I'd been snippy with Greg for making assumptions about me when I'd blithely dismissed him as a dumb jock. "Damn. I am a douche. I'm an enormous douche."

Rana smiled with heartbreaking kindness. "Yup. But a discerning eye can see you have a lot of potential nonetheless."

I gave her a great big hug when we parted ways, and she squeezed me tightly.

"You smell really nice," I remarked.

"So do you, pretty boy," she replied, and pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek before giggling and striding off to her building.

My thoughts were whirling as I returned to my dorm. I couldn't make sense of anything. I opened the door and shut it gently behind me. I could hear Greg typing away at his laptop as I walked in slowly. It was warm, and the air seemed to be thrumming with strange electricity. Or maybe it was just me? I looked down at my hands, and my fingers were trembling. Something about my talk with Rana had turned me completely upside down.

Was I in love? Was I in love with Rana? I liked her a lot--a hell of a lot--but she almost seemed untouchable, as if she were on another plane of existence.

"What'd you do, kill someone?" Greg asked suddenly.

I looked up with surprise. He was glaring at me with a cocked eyebrow. I realized I'd been standing there for some time in the middle of our room, just staring at my hands with a stricken expression. I shook my head and laughed awkwardly, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Rana... I really like her," I blurted out.

He narrowed his eyes.

I nodded my chin vaguely in the direction of the pub. "Just had drinks with her."

He snorted a breath out through his nose like an angry bull.

I shrugged helplessly. "Don't be upset. I know you like her, okay? But it's fine. You were right--I don't think she'd go out with me. We're all just... friends."

He swallowed with an audible click. "So," he said hoarsely. "You've got it all figured out, haven't you, smart guy?"

I shrugged again, uncomfortable.

"Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? Couldn't find your own friends? Just had to badger and cajole MINE?"

"It's not like that," I sighed. "Chill, okay?"

He clearly did not appreciate being told to "chill". Something else, though, seemed to strike him suddenly, and his eyes widened. He jumped up out of his chair and barrelled over to me. I yelped a little as he grabbed me by the shirt with one hand and took me by the chin with the other, turning my head aside.

"Is that lipstick?!" he demanded.

I blushed. "She... gave me a little kiss. Just a little one."

He pushed me hard up against the wall. "What did you do? What the fuck did you do to bait her?"

"I didn't!" I gasped, squirming. "I didn't do anything--we just talked! She likes me! I don't know. Gah, you bastard--let go of me right now!"

He yanked me by my shirt, and then slammed me against the wall once more, growling incoherently. His face was pale, but with two very bright spots of red in his cheeks.

"Ow!" I grunted. He was driving me to the brink, and I could feel my inner douche rising up again despite myself. "Stop it--I mean it! You're ruining my shirt. This is organic cotton, loser! It's expensive, and I doubt you could afford to replace it!"

"Fuck... you!" he hollered, slamming me twice more against the wall to punctuate each word. His voice was cracking. "Fuck you and your pretentious shirt!"

"Fuck you and your disgusting thrift shop wardrobe!" I screamed back at him, pulling at his wrists and trying to extricate him from my shirt with no success. "Fuck your garbage and your filth and your football muscles and your stupid Neanderthal face!"

He hit me. Oddly, it was an open-handed slap across my cheek, like a girl might have given in response to an obscene pickup line. The sharp sound of it seemed to bounce and linger in the small room, and for a while one side of my face just felt numb. We both stood still and gasped for breath.

"I deserved that," I admitted hoarsely.

"Yeah," he agreed with chilling calm. He still held my shirt in one hand, though I thought I could pull away this time if I really tried.

"Please let go," I whispered.

"No," he whispered back, shaking his head slowly, and then faster. He took a deep breath. "Why... why did she kiss you? Tell me, damn you!"

I gritted my teeth, becoming fed up with his jealousy. "No fucking way," I snapped. "I'm not telling you anything if this is the way you're gonna treat me. I can kiss anyone I like, you big stupid stinking gorilla, and it's none of your business!"

His breath was coming in short gasps, and his cheeks were nearly purple. I realized finally that his eyes were shining, and damp around the edges. He pulled his hand back again, sharply, and I flinched, expecting another slap. It didn't come. He yanked me forward by my shirt and then shoved me once more, letting go this time as I slammed against the wall. I stumbled and clumsily fell. From my prone position, I could see his enormous feet stepping into his dirty running shoes.

"I need some air," he said huskily.

"No--no you don't!" I cried in sudden alarm, pushing myself up off the ground. I'd clued in finally that he was really and truly upset, and I felt panicked about having caused it. I stepped in front of him before he could reach the door and pushed on his broad chest.

"Get outta my fucking way, princess, before I mess up that pretty face of yours with my big stupid ape fists," he hissed, turning his gaze away from mine.

"No," I insisted, pushing harder. "You're not going to do that. You're upset, and you're going to stay here and calm down and talk to me like a human being."

"Oh, you think you're so smart, don't you?" he snapped, taking hold of my forearms and wrenching them away from his chest. "Believe me--you don't want to be around when I'm really upset."

"Don't I?"

"No. You don't."

I scowled at him, struggling in his grip. I hated his macho routine, and I hated his denial. "You're not seriously giving me the 'You wouldn't like me when I'm angry' line, are you? Give me a break!"

"I didn't say 'angry'!"

I smiled evilly. "What then? You gonna cry? You gonna cry over your girl, you big dumb caveman?"

He bared his teeth and once more shoved me against the wall. "You idiot!" he screamed, his eyes now welling up dangerously. "You un-fucking-believable MORON!"

I took several deep, rapid breaths, feeling an intense burning in my cheeks. I hated him, and I hated myself even more. I wasn't sure whether to spit in his face or apologize, but I was immobile, and he was huffing like an angry dragon ready to spit fire. He gripped me by the chin again, and I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut. I was expecting something painful, but instead there was a hot press of soft lips against mine.

I went limp out of pure shock and felt his tongue invade my mouth, searching aggressively. His hard body kept me pinned tightly against the wall. Something inside me seemed to burst asunder, and I was once more seized with that sensation of warm, tremulous electricity that I'd suspected was the feeling of falling in love, but this time it was heightened by a factor of at least ten. I whimpered, and as he released his grip on me, I wrapped my arms around his broad, firm torso and returned the kiss with a sense of desperate panic that came out of nowhere.

His kiss. I had never been kissed like this. It was as if he was possessing me. I needed him instantly. My fingernails scraped at his back.

He pulled me, and slammed me back again with his chest. We collided breathlessly. He widened his stance to lower himself to my level and squeezed me tightly against the wall. We kissed, sucked, licked, bit. We feasted on each other.

We finally came up for air and stared at each other with some astonishment. His shining blue eyes welled over with two large tears.

"Fuck your... stupid... pretty face," he whispered, reaching up to quickly whisk those tears away.

I ran the tip of my tongue curiously over my lips, as if to confirm they were still there. So many things now seemed to make a bizarre sort of sense. I stared at him in wonderment.

"I'm so... sorry," I mumbled weakly.

He pulled away abruptly, with a pained look on his face. "Don't. Seriously."

I threw my hands up, at a loss. "I... I mean it though. I've been such an unbelievable dick. I... didn't realize.... What can I do? Just tell me what to say."

"Stop!" he snapped, holding up a hand and turning his back on me. He scrubbed at his face with empty hands, groaning.

"Gah!" I burst out, turning and pounding a fist against the wall. Despite the hard-on that had sprung up in my pants so suddenly, he was somehow more frustrating than ever. "Fuck, Greg! You're so.... UGH! You're impossible!"

He half-turned back to me, studying me through narrowed eyes.

I blinked at him, the proverbial gears in my head seeming now to turn at a brisk pace. "Neanderthal!" I blurted out.

"Diva," he snarled back.

The lightbulb went on. I had it--I had him then. He had to be angry with me. He wanted me to drive him crazy. "Fuck you!" I snarled. "You're disgusting! Do you even eat anything but Doritos and Powerade?" I made a show of wiping off my mouth.

His eyes blazed. He faced me directly. There was a huge, unmistakable bulge in his sweatpants. "Right... I'm sure your folks gave you Dom Perignon in your sippy cup, yeah? Bet mommy made you pheasant nuggets when the rest of us were chowing down on McDonald's. Pompous little snotbag!"

"I see your lips moving, but all I hear is grunting!" I shot back. "Filthy ape!"

He tore his shirt off and tossed it in the middle of the floor. His musculature was well defined, even beneath a fairly dense cover of tawny chest hair. "Princess."

"Pick that up, you slob--it's on my side."

"Make me!" He took a step toward me. There was the barest hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

My heart was hammering against my ribcage. "Come over here and I will."

He covered the distance between us in a flash, and once again collided with me, slamming me up against the side of my bureau with his bare chest. The bureau rocked briefly, and a few of my sundries rolled onto the floor. He gripped both sides of my face and kissed me deeply. "Fuck you," he whispered against my lips, "and all your stupid makeup."

"It's not makeup," I huffed, pushing against him and kissing him several times fast. "This look takes effort. You've never spent more than thirty seconds on your appearance. Fuck you and your razor stubble and your bargain basement deodorant."

He gripped the back of my head and kissed me hard. "Fuck your queer emo hairdo and your stupid celebrity-endorsed conditioner and your... your dry-clean-only designer shirts!"

We kissed hungrily. I ran my hands up his bare back, feeling tingles travel up my fingers and all through my body. "Fuck your football muscles and your... huge feet."

He collided with me again, beginning to smile in earnest. More things fell off my bureau. He nuzzled against my cheek, and then my neck, inhaling the scent of me. He nipped at my earlobe. "Fuck your girly soft skin," he breathed, "and your skinny little bod. I could break you in half."

I groaned and clamped my arms around him. "I could break your heart."

"You have already, pretty boy. You break my idiot heart every fucking moment."

I was lost for words as he yanked on my arms suddenly and bent double, barrelling into me as if in a football tackle. I grunted, and he straightened, tossing me over his shoulder. His physical power took my breath away. I was barely aware of how he managed it, but I found myself tossed like a ragdoll onto his loft bed. He might as well have been King Kong, taking me in his monstrous fist and carrying me up his tower. Then, he was on top of me. His barrel chest pressed me down into the mattress, and his huge, rock-hard cock, still trapped beneath his sweatpants, collided with my own bulge. I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. My entire body thrummed like a taut bowstring. I felt like I would cum all over my underpants if he bucked against me a few more times.

Greg kissed me aggressively, and then glared down at me expectantly, smirking. "Let's see whatcha got, brat."

"Not in your bed--I bet you never change your sheets," I panted. "I don't want to lie in your filth."

"Yes you do," he challenged, licking my face and neck with a few broad, sloppy strokes. "Mmm... fuck your deliciousness."

"Fuck your hot, sweet tongue!" I groaned.

He plunged his tongue into my mouth, nearly choking me. I wrapped my legs around him, keeping him tight against me. I could barely breathe, and it was bliss.

He pulled away with a wet smack, and then leaned down again, kissing me softly now, with aching tenderness. "Fuck your beautiful eyes."

I sighed dreamily. He began to pull my shirt up, and I wriggled around to help him. "Careful," I whispered.

"Sowwy, Pwincess," he teased, grinning. "Am I being soooo mean to your precious, priceless organic cotton?"

"You musclebrains have no class! Someone needs to take you shopping."

He balled up my shirt and tossed it vengefully over the side of the bed. "Bite your tongue!"

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he bit it, growling playfully. He kissed down my neck, and across my collarbone. He kissed down my sternum, and abruptly laughed.

"What?!" I demanded, my voice quivering slightly.

"You have, like... three chest hairs. Look at you! You're so smooth!" He nuzzled my chest, and suddenly blew a raspberry on my stomach.

"Gah!" I yelped, and burst into giggles, writhing beneath him. "Not all of us are so closely related to Australopithecus, monkey man!"

Greg blew another raspberry, this time below my navel, and I writhed again, my giggles turning to gasps. He unbuttoned my pants. His eyes flicked up to mine. I gazed down at him as he slowly unzipped my fly. He gave me a long, lingering, sincere look.