The Good Life Ch. 01

"Lube's in the night stand, but..." Shit. "I don't have any condoms."

"Neither do I."

I knew I was clean, and I really wanted this, but didn't want to pressure Evan.

But it turned out Evan was on the same page. "I'm clean, but I understand if you aren't comfortable."

"Very comfortable," I replied eagerly.

"Sure?"

"Absolutely."

He wiggled out from under me enough to reach the bedside table, reach into the drawer and grab the bottle of K-Y. He squeezed some of it into his palm, and started rubbing it onto my cock. I grabbed his wrist. I could hardly stand the thought of him making himself so vulnerable to me. I wanted to show him how much I trusted him, how much I loved him. "I want you Evan."

His eyes shot up to mine in shock. I felt a little hurt. How could he think I wouldn't want us to share everything, every experience? For a moment he looked torn, but then held to his guns. "Come on Charlie, don't make me beg."

I didn't. I tried to pull him on top of me but again he was insistent. He took some more lube and reached between us to rub it around his hole, then the next thing I knew he was positioning my cock at his entrance.

I pulled back. "I don't want to hurt you." I had never had anal sex before, but I knew that it usually took some easing and preparation.

He pulled me back into position. "You won't, I promise." He pulled his knees to his chest, watching me with raw need in his eyes. "Please Charlie." Inwardly I cursed. This is definitely not how I envisioned our first time. But the way he looked at me...there was no doubt how bad he wanted it, and I wasn't about to let him down.

At first there was strong resistance, but then Evan clenched his teeth and bore down. When my head slid in he gasped. I tried to pull out but he wrapped his legs around me and held me in place. "Don't you dare," he panted. I couldn't tell if his expression was pain or excitement. Probably both. He tilted his head back. "Fuck. It's been a while." After a few more seconds he squeezed me with his legs, encouraging me to move. I was still reluctant, so he rocked underneath me, groaning as I slid back and forth. The tight, hot feeling of him gripping me was indescribable. I didn't try to kiss him again, even though I wanted to more than anything, but I ran my hands all over every inch of his body that I could reach, trying to convey love and tenderness with each touch. Evan seemed in a world of his own, his eyes on mine but sort of unfocused, lost in the sensation of me inside him.

I could tell he was getting close. I tried to slow down, to draw it out, but Evan pulled me in roughly. "I want you to fuck me hard, Charlie. As hard as you can." The way he said it didn't seem quite right, but I would give him anything he wanted. I sped up, and soon was slamming into him harder than I thought he would be able to take it, but between groans and cries he begged for more. He arched his back, his cock grinding between our bodies, let out an inarticulate scream, and shot his load, his cum coating both of our stomachs. I felt his orgasm contract around my cock, squeezing me almost painfully. I hadn't felt all that close, but seeing, hearing, and feeling Evan come underneath me was too much. I rushed over the edge, coming deep inside him, emptying six years worth of repressed desires into Evan's shuddering body.

Almost immediately darkness started enveloping me. I tried to fight it, suddenly frightened of what would be there waiting for me (or not) when I woke up. If this was what I wanted, what I had dreamed about, then why did it seem so wrong? Why was I so scared? I pulled Evan close, wrapping my arms around him, holding on to him for dear life, then succumbed to sleep.

When I woke up it was past midnight and Evan was gone. My mind was clear now, and I had a terrible sinking feeling of guilt deep in my stomach. I knew I had done something very wrong. I knew that Evan hadn't been ready, that maybe he never would be, and that by letting things go ahead I had failed him.

Feeling wretched I got up and went to see if he at least left a note. He had. It was dated the tenth, the day after the first nightmare.

"Charlie, I know you've guessed there's something I'm not telling you. It's not something I've ever talked about, but it involves you and you deserve to know. It's about Jason and the day he killed himself. I was in the locker room that afternoon, clearing out my things. I was alone when Jason came in. He had been drinking." I remembered Senior year when Jason had started carrying a water bottle full of vodka. That that day had been worse than most. He had nearly broken my nose when I tried to take it away from him. I continued reading with a sense of dark dread. "I could see how dangerous he was, but he was between me and the door. He caught me. That's all I remember. When I woke up it was after dark. The back of my head was smashed up, and there was so much blood on the floor. I couldn't stop throwing up. It was probably midnight by the time I could walk. I had to break a window to get out of the building. I was so out of it I walked home the way I always did, right by Jason's house. I saw the sirens. Even before I heard people whispering I knew what had happened. The reason your best friend killed himself because he thought he had killed me. I know what happened to Jason isn't my fault, but I'm still the cause. I should have given you a chance to decide if you could live with that. I'm so sorry I took so long to tell you."

Below, in hurried scribble, it said,

"Charlie, I'm sorry I let things get this far. I guess I just wanted it too much. There are a million reasons why this will never work, even if you still wanted it to, but the most important one is that I care about you too much to let you throw the rest of your life away for me."

I could only stand there in shock. That's why he had been acting so strange, why he wouldn't kiss me, why he looked at me with that strange light in his eyes. Six years ago my best friend had almost killed him. He couldn't help but look at me and relive the terror, pain, and guilt. Having sex with me must have been almost unbearable. He was trying to claim some of the blame for himself, but he hated himself right now, and I knew it was all my fault. How could I have been so selfish? How could I think that that awful time of our lives was forgotten, that I could ever touch Evan without hurting him? I wanted so badly to talk to him, to try to make things better, but what could I say that would ever make up for this? I had to let this be on his terms. I had to give him time.