The Adventures of Boipussy Pt. 04

Carlos shivered. "At least the shower was warm," he said, snuggling down into his blankets.

Pete returned to his bed. He climbed under his covers, but beyond that, he tried hard not to move. He was barely even breathing.

"You said it's snowing outside?" asked Carlos.

"Yeah."

"It's meant to be spring."

"I know."

"Fuck." A tense silence fell. "I'm cold, Pete."

Pete said nothing.

Moments passed. Pete listened to Carlos breathe. He was a million miles away from sleep. He desperately needed to jerk off, it was the only way he'd get to sleep. He was about to roll over and try to quietly get the job done when he heard Carlos's voice again.

"Can you come keep me warm, Pete?"

Pete waited, counting the seconds before responding. "I don't think that's a good idea," he frowned.

"It's snowing outside."

"I know, Carlos."

"Aren't you cold too, Pete?"

"Yeah, a little."

"So come sleep with me," said Carlos. "We can just warm each other up. We don't have to do anything."

"I'm with Ace now," Pete affirmed.

"I know, dude ... that's why I'm just sayin' let's sleep together, and I genuinely mean just SLEEPING together, with no touching."

"It's a single bed," said Pete. "If I get under the covers with you, how the hell aren't we gonna be touching?"

Carlos didn't have an answer for that. He returned to his original plea. "I'm cold."

With a sigh, Pete threw his covers off and joined Carlos in his single bed. Neither of them were gonna get any sleep otherwise. He tried to ensure their bodies weren't touching -- it wasn't easy. "Is that better?" He tried to pretend his cock wasn't hard. He desperately needed to cum.

"That's better," said Carlos. "Eres lindo."

Pete thought Carlos's words were a Spanish expression of gratitude. He didn't realise that Carlos just said he was beautiful.

"Amo tus pecas," whispered Carlos, gazing through the darkness at the constellation of freckles adorning Pete's cheeks and nose. One of his feet brushed against Pete's. Pete had no idea what Carlos was saying, but he couldn't deny how horny he felt right now. For many years, he'd dreamed about sharing a hotel room with his sexy bandmate. If he was single, he would've surrendered to his wildest sexual dreams half an hour ago.

Pete gulped. "I don't know what you're saying, but ... I'm with Ace."

"I know you are," Carlos whispered, barely even audible. "Entiendo. I understand."

Pete felt an undeniable heat emanating from Carlos's groin.

"I'm so fucking hard for you right now," Carlos breathed. Their eyes met and they gazed at each other through the darkness. Under the sheets, and despite his best intentions, Pete's hands began to explore Carlos's naked body. The room was cold, but Carlos's breath was sweet and warm. His wandering fingers cupped Carlos's balls; they felt full. Carlos moaned at his touch.

Carlos reached out to touch Pete. He was wearing boxers, but it didn't take long for Carlos to extract his leaking penis. He began to stroke it gently.

Outside, the snow continued to fall. Inside, these two sexy metalheads lay side by side in Carlos's single bed, their cocks in each other's hands.

"I'm with Ace," Pete protested.

"I know," Carlos replied. "Es un hombre sexy, pero tengo tu pene en mi mano."

They touched each other's erect penises.

"I can't do this," said Pete.

"We're not doing anything wrong, Pete," soothed Carlos. "We're just two dudes keeping warm on a cold, snowy night."

Pete felt so conflicted. "I'm with Ace," he repeated. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"I know you are," Carlos said as he began to stroke Pete's dick.

Pete's eyes rolled into the back of his head. "Stop," he pleaded. "Please, Carlos, please stop." Yet at the same time, Pete's fingers began to tease Carlos's fat brown sausage.

"Fuck, Pete, that feels so good," Carlos moaned. It had been so long. So very fucking long. Not since Gorilla's death had he felt another man's hands on his cock. Carlos gave no sign and no warning before he drenched Pete's tender fingers with his load. He groaned in bliss as he came. "You feel so fucking good, Pete," he sighed, as he coated his hand with his thick semen.

Carlos's hand was still wrapped around Pete's cock. Pete tried so fucking hard not to cum. He felt like he was being unfaithful to his boyfriend, but this was the stuff of wet dreams. He was in a warm bed in a cold room, his longtime crush's nut had flooded his hand, and his cock was hard. As he felt Carlos's palm gripping and stroking his shaft, he couldn't hold back any longer. His back arched as his balls oozed sperm all over bandmate's fist. Carlos continued stroking him until his orgasm subsided. He sucked his wet fingers into his mouth. "Gracias," he whispered. "Estas delicioso."

Confused, Pete extracted himself from Carlos's warm single bed and went back to his own. His mattress was cold, and as he pulled the curtain back for a moment, he saw snow continuing to fall.

He loved Ace and missed him deeply, but he couldn't deny how hot it felt to lie next to Carlos in a single bed as they jacked each other off. And as Carlos drifted away to sleep, Pete had no idea that Carlos was thinking the exact same thing.

The last thing Carlos wanted to do was to get between Pete and Ace, but at the same time, he was out on the road with the sexiest drummer in the world.

*

Carlos's alarm sounded at 10am. The room was still a little cold. He opened his eyes and felt a brief pang of disorientation as he realised he wasn't at home. He rolled over to watch Pete yawn, stretch and shake the covers off his own single bed.

They each expected today would be awkward, and these first few moments of the day were likely to be the most awkward of all. Neither of them wanted to be the first to speak: neither of them knew what to say about last night.

Carlos slept soundly last night with the taste of Pete's load fresh on his tongue. There was a wet spot on the side of the mattress where Pete had jerked him off. In the other single bed, it took Pete quite a while to drift off to sleep. He fretted about what he'd done, and besides, the mattress was cold and it took time for his natural body warmth to heat it up.

Pete pulled his boxers on and walked to the bathroom for a piss. He closed the door behind him. He flushed, washed his hands and was about to leave the bathroom just as Carlos was trying to get in. They brushed past each other in the doorframe, trying not to touch each other.

"Sorry, dude," said Carlos.

"My mistake, it's cool," Pete replied.

Awkward.

They dressed, checked out and met their bandmates and roadies in the lobby before heading to the airport. Pete and Carlos stole glances, but shared few words. They checked in and ate a late breakfast at the airport as they waited for their aircraft to arrive. They boarded on time, departed on time, and Carlos jammed his earbuds in so he wouldn't have to talk to anyone. Their plane touched down an hour later at Québec City airport. They found their way into town and checked in to their hotel.

Again, Carlos and Pete shared a room. Pete decided it was up to him to break the stalemate. "Hey, Carlos, have you ever been here before?"

"You mean, to Québec City? No, and this is the furthest north I've ever been," Carlos replied.

"Same. I haven't been here before either. And it's easily the furthest north I've been, too." Pete paused. "You feel like going for a walk?"

Carlos grinned, pointing to the window. "Dude, it's fucking snowing out there! It's the glorious Canadian springtime!"

Pete laughed. "Yeah ... I know ... but we don't get snow very often in Atlanta, and I can't remember the last time."

Carlos shrugged. "Yeah, OK, why not?"

They bought some pre-made sandwiches from the convenience store next to the hotel, and two bottles of water, before heading out. Neither of them knew where they were going, or what there was to do. They only managed to walk four or five city blocks before Carlos dragged Pete into a café to escape the windchill. A waiter came over to their table. Pete ordered two coffees and two pastries, and despite the warmth in the room, Carlos cupped his hot mug as if he was fighting frostbite.

"I'm not used to this kind of weather," Carlos confessed, his teeth chattering slightly.

Pete raised a pitying eyebrow. "No shit, Mexico boy."

There was a short pause as two long-haired metalheads sat across a café table from each other, collecting their thoughts and emotions.

"OK, so I think we need to talk about last night," declared Carlos.

Pete waited nervously. He wasn't sure if this was an appropriate place.

"We need to talk about last night," Carlos repeated, "but I don't know what to say." He rested his head in his hands. Pete thought he looked forlorn and gorgeous.

"You know how I feel, Carlos. Ace and I are together."

"I know. And I hope last night didn't get in the way of you two."

"Well, it didn't help," confessed Pete. "Long distance is difficult. We talk on the phone most nights, but it's not the same as living in the same city."

Carlos didn't reply. He waited for Pete to continue.

"And it's been so long since I've had someone care about me as much as Ace does. I've been single for a very long time, Carlos, but something about Ace feels ... right. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, but ... he's gonna cheat on you," said Carlos. "You know that, right? I mean, maybe he already has."

Pete was stunned. He couldn't believe Carlos would say this.

"I don't know him as well as you," Carlos continued, "but he's a total fuckboi. He can't keep his dick in his pants."

Pete felt anger rising, but Carlos had no idea.

"You know I fucked him at Eternal the night before we played that show with Boipussy? The night he first went home with you? I fucked him in the loading dock just before Boipussy went on stage. He played that show with more than just a buttplug up his ass. Unless he shat my load out before he went on stage, that is, but I don't think he would've had time. He let me fuck him on the concrete next to a stinky dumpster, and we'd barely even met."

"Shut the fuck up, Carlos! Yes, I know you fucked him that night!" Pete screamed. "You told the whole fucking audience!" In the distance, someone dropped a glass and it shattered on the floor. Québécois might prefer French, but they understood English perfectly well.

Pete stood up, kicking his chair away. "Ace can't 'keep his dick in his pants', you say? Look who's talking," he spat. "And you're goddamn right, you don't know him as well as I do, so keep your thoughts to yourself!"

Pete left $15 of multi-coloured plastic Canadian money on the table before stumbling out into the gentle snow, tears running down his cheeks. He didn't know where he was. He found a policeman and asked for directions back to his hotel. His crappy high school French proved useful after all. He found their room, turned on the shower, undressed, and sat on the tiles. He cried until his eyes were red.

He was shocked to think how cruel his friend Carlos had been.

More than anything right now, he wanted to fly home, climb under his comforter and curl up into a ball, but he knew they had an itinerary to complete. Fuck, they had a show tonight. He didn't know how he was going to muster the emotional energy to play.

He cried until the shower ran out of hot water. He dried himself off, shivering a little, wrapping the spare dry towel around his damp hair.

He climbed into his single bed. At least this hotel room was a little warmer than last night's. He thought about calling Ace, just to hear his voice, but he wasn't sure what he'd say.

Carlos could get fucked.

*

Carlos sat at the café for another half an hour. He apologised to the wait staff for the scene. He ate his pastry, then pecked at Pete's uneaten one. He assumed Pete had returned to their hotel room, but he thought it best to give him some time on his own. If Pete was unable to play tonight and they had to cancel the show, they'd lose a lot of money, and he braced himself for this possibility.

Carlos didn't mean for his words to come out the way they did. He didn't mean to sound boastful, as if to say 'I had sex with him before you did'; he just didn't want to see Ace break his friend's heart. Everyone knew Ace was a slut, but maybe Carlos could've found a kinder, softer way to express his concerns.

Carlos didn't know that Pete and Ace had already talked about this very thing. He didn't know that Ace had, in a moment of clarity, promised Pete he'd try to 'keep his dick in his pants', to borrow Carlos's colourful choice of words, and that Pete had found Ace's sincerity amusing.

He didn't know that Pete didn't really mind who Ace had sex with, so long as he stayed safe. He didn't know that, as far as Pete was concerned, sex was sex, but love was something more.

Carlos also thought Pete had a valid point about his own sexual proclivities. He knew he was a slut before he met Gorilla, but even after meeting him, he still found room in his life for some occasional extra-curricular sex while Gorilla was out on the road. And just last night, he coaxed Pete into his own bed for a mutual jerkoff session. He was the last person in the world to be giving Pete advice about sexual commitment. He felt like an asshole, and for the first time in his life, he wondered if he was feeling jealous.

Carlos ordered a second cup of coffee to keep warm and to pass the time. Eventually, he braved the elements and stepped back outside. His sense of direction was solid, and he was soon back inside the hotel lobby.

He put his electronic key in the door. The mechanism beeped and he stepped in. The lights were out. Pete lay shivering in his bed.

"Pete?"

"Leave me alone."

"Pete, it's me, Carlos."

"I don't want to be alone."

"What did you say?"

"I don't want to be alone anymore," Pete sobbed. "I've been lonely for so long, and I don't want to fuck this up, but I know I will. This thing with Ace. I'll eventually find a way to ruin it. I always do."

Carlos perched on the corner of Pete's bed, touching his feet through the blanket. "I'm so sorry for what I said. I forget sometimes that English is my second language. I know we Latinos have a blunt and direct way of saying things, and I'm really very sorry. If I could explain to you what I meant in Spanish, I think the words would've come out better, but I know you wouldn't have understood them. Can I try again?" he pleaded. He needed to find a way to make this right.

Pete rolled over to face him. His eyes and cheeks were red from crying.

"You know Ace better than me. I know you've been single for a long time, and I know how much fun he is, but I'm just worried about you. I know that before I met Gorilla, I was a bit of a slut too, so I know I sound like a complete hypocrite, but the bottom line is I just don't want to see you get hurt. You've helped me so much to get over Gorilla, and you deserve someone you can rely on. Someone who'll be there for you. I don't want him to break your heart." Carlos paused before delivering the payload. "I love you, dude."

Pete started crying all over again. "No, you don't. You don't love me. You're just saying that because we're sharing a hotel room and you want to fuck me."

Carlos placed his hands on his heart. "I swear, Pete. You've become very special to me lately. You've helped me more than I can possibly say."

Pete cried. "And so now you 'love me'? You're so full of shit," he spat, his face contorted in serious emotional pain. "I don't believe you. All those months and years where you fucking KNEW how much I was into you, and you treated me like I was a mouth for rent."

"I was with Gorilla then," Carlos pleaded.

"Oh, so you're warning me about my boyfriend screwing around when you were getting downlow head from me without telling Gorilla?"

"No, I told him about that," Carlos replied. "He knew."

Pete felt a ball of rage build up inside him that felt hotter than the sun. He grabbed the alarm clock from the bedside table and hurled it at Carlos, striking him flush in the face. The velocity of the clock was checked only by the fact it was plugged in at the wall when Pete launched it. "I thought we were friends, you asshole," he screamed. "I had the biggest crush on you since the first day I met you, which was a long time before you met Gorilla, so don't give me this 'I was with Gorilla' bullshit. I wanted to give you everything, but all you ever wanted from me was my mouth. And now you suddenly tell me you love me, when you know I'm with someone else now? Did you set this whole fucking tour up just so you could share a room with me? I might've been easy and desperate before, but I'm not anymore. I don't even know who you are to me right now. You're fucking with my mind. Please leave me alone."

Carlos went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. His face felt red from where the alarm clock struck him, but there were no signs of swelling. From the bathroom, he heard Pete sobbing like the world had just ended. He didn't know what to do. He felt like he'd made a bad situation so much worse.

Pete crawled out of bed and padded to the bathroom, full of remorse, thinking he surely must've broken Carlos's nose. "Carlos?" he said. "I'm so sorry."

In the bathroom, Carlos touched his face. It hurt, but he looked OK.

"Carlos? Are you alright? I didn't mean it. I'm so fucking sorry." He wondered how differently today might've turned out if they stayed in separate beds last night.

Carlos stepped out of the bathroom. "My face is a little tender, but I think I'm alright. No serious damage."

Pete tried to smile. "That's why they wouldn't let me pitch in little league. My arm was never strong enough."

"That's not what it sounds like when we're onstage," Carlos replied. "You raise hell back there."

"I'm so sorry for throwing the alarm clock at you," Pete sniffled.

Carlos rubbed his face. "And I'm sorry for offering unwanted advice. What happens between you and Ace is none of my business, but I just want you to understand that I meant what I said -- you are very special to me, and I don't want you to get hurt."

Pete smiled and wiped his eyes. "Thank you. It means a lot to me. And you're very special to me, too." He checked the time on his phone. He knew they needed to leave for their gig soon, but first, he needed to say something else.

"I need to try to explain," Pete began, "and I know we don't have much time." He looked over at the unplugged alarm clock, its wires strewn across the bed. "I'm glad I've got my phone with me, otherwise I'd have no way of knowing what time it was." He took a deep breath. "I resigned myself long ago to thinking I'd never find someone who liked me. I've had esteem issues for a long time. I never thought I was particularly attractive or cute, especially not compared to someone as amazingly sexy and confident as you, Carlos. I've only had a few short relationships in my life, and my low opinion of myself has always found a way to ruin them."

He paused for a second, which was long enough for Carlos to realise Gorilla had said many similar things to him while they were together.

"I think this is one of the reasons I bury myself in lectures and study," Pete continued. "It's a kind of escape. I assumed I'd probably be single forever, but at least I'd always have music, and this is why I love being in A2M so much. Like I said before, I've had a crush on you since the first day we met. I jerked off most nights imagining us lying in bed together. I imagined a world in which I wasn't just a convenient throat to fuck, but that you wanted me in every sense. That was the dream of my life, but I always knew it was unattainable."

Carlos interrupted. "Unattainable?"

Pete found an alternative set of words: "Out of reach." He continued. "You were out of reach to me, and I accepted that. I went home every night thinking I was gonna live alone and die alone, and then I unexpectedly found myself in conversation with Ace backstage at Eternal that night. I had no idea at the time that you'd fucked him earlier, because even though you announced it to the crowd, I couldn't hear your voice clearly in my foldback wedge. So we're backstage after the show, and even though Ace and I were just talking, I felt an ease I'd never felt with another boy ever before. Probably because I'd given up on relationships, it felt to me like we were just two dudes talking quietly about music without an agenda. Months have gone by since then and we're still talking, so I guess that must mean something. Maybe I'm deluding myself, but I'm quietly confident he sees something in me that he doesn't see in other boys. And if he fucks other guys from time to time, I don't care. Maybe once a fuckboi, always a fuckboi, and I can't blame any of the curious Florida fratdudes who'd wanna hook up with him. He's sexy as fuck, and so are you, and ... and I'm ... fuck ... I'm ..." His voice trailed off for a second before he continued.