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It took exactly thirty-seven minutes after Alyssa left for
Banky to come out of his room. Thirty-seven minutes, fuck—just the right amount
of time, not quite half an hour, not quite forty minutes, uneven enough that
his entrance didn’t seem calculated, which it undoubtedly had been. Banky’d
probably been watching the clock for the entire thirty-seven minutes. Hell,
Holden had been. Still was, as a matter of fact.
The moment he left his room, Banky went straight into the kitchen,
without even a glance in Holden’s direction. He got himself a beer, scratched
himself low on his belly, not quite approaching the groin area, and then made a
confused and confusing sound, half grunt of frustration, half-sigh.
Holden shook his head slightly and looked back at the clock,
and the next thing he knew, the couch was dipping down next to him. Banky was
sitting next to Holden, just looking at him, nothing obvious in his eyes. For
once, he wasn’t the one with the first, last, and only word. It was a little
bit scary.
Holden sighed. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
Banky snorted. “Holden, my friend, that was the mother of
all fuck-ups. The motherfuck, even.” He opened his beer, licking it off his
fingers where it foamed over.
“Yeah. Thanks for your support.” Holden glanced over at
Banky. Well, he wasn’t running away again. That was probably a good sign,
despite the mounting panic in Holden’s stomach.
“So, you kissed me.” Fuck. Leave it to Banky to skip right
to the point.
“So, you liked it,” Holden shot back. Lame. So very, very
lame.
Banky shrugged. Or nodded. Or, fuck, both—couldn’t he just
have one uncomplicated piece of body language? “Fair enough. I guess I did.”
Complete and utter silence. Neither of them moved, or
breathed, or looked at each other.
Eventually, it was Banky who broke the silence. “But you
liked it too, if that hard-on against my thigh was any indication. And you
certainly seemed eager enough to get me into bed with you and that dyke."
Holden laughed reflexively, used to Banky and his bluntness
and his often unintentional humor. This time his laughter was simply harsher
than usual, surprised. “Gee, if I’d known we were being completely fucking
honest here, I’d have asked you straight out if you were in love with me.”
Banky choked on his beer and Holden slapped him on the back,
rubbed softly, feeling flannel beneath his fingertips. When Banky was done, he
didn’t take his hand away. “Are you in love with me?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Banky exploded. “In case you
hadn’t noticed, this whole gay thing is pretty fucking new to me. I never
thought I was a faggot before, but then, my best friend never offered to fuck me before, so it kind of balances
out.”
“Fair enough. So, do you wanna try it?” Banky looked over at
him, very very slowly, and Holden looked calmly back at him. “Look, I meant
what I said, Banky. I think that you’re gay. I think that you need to accept
it. And I’m willing to help.”
“Oh, you’re ‘willing.’ Gee, that’s an attractive offer. Does
that mean you’ll wait til I roll over to spit if I come in your mouth?” Holden
laughed, a real laugh this time, and Banky sighed and took a drink of his beer.
“That was my point, man. If the very thought of us fucking makes you giggle
like some little girl, how can you actually go through with it?”
Holden leaned over and kissed him, on the mouth. Banky broke
away. “Okay, see, that proves nothing. I kiss my fucking grandmother like that.
Its not a real kiss if you don’t—” Holden leaned over, kissed him, kissed him
more. Opened his mouth and licked Banky’s tongue until both of them were
gasping.
The next time Banky pulled away, his hands were tangled in
Holden’s hair. Holden’s had attached themselves to Banky’s shirt without his
knowledge, firmly fisting the fabric. He let go slowly, and Banky’s fell away
too. “Well,” Holden said.
“Um. Yeah.” Banky edged away from Holden slightly, then
apparently decided, fuck it. He moved closer. “So, we’re definitely doing
this?”
Holden smiled. “Yeah, Banks.”
Banky yawned carelessly, a completely transparent gesture.
“So, you want me to suck you off or something? That’s appropriately queer,
right?”
“Look, if we do this, its not gonna be some, ‘I suck you
off’ or ‘you suck me off’ thing. It’s going to be…mutual.”
Banky raised his eyebrows. “So it’ll be, ‘I suck you off’ then ‘you suck me off,’ then.”
“What is your newfound obsession with sucking me off,
Banks?”
“Who says it’s newfound?” Banky asked, a question not
without merit. “You’re the one who seems to think I’ve been harboring some deep
and abiding love for you, so a preoccupation with your cock shouldn’t be all
that damn surprising to you.”
That floored Holden for a minute, but only for a minute.
“Whatever. Don’t argue semantics with me. I just meant, its not gonna be some
straight guy jerk-off thing.”
“Oh, my dear old friend. And you think I’m in
denial.” Banky shook his head in disbelief. “I hate to tell you, Holden, but
any time you have a guy’s dick in your hand, mouth, or ass, its not ‘some
straight guy thing’.”
Holden raised his eyebrows. “A guy’s dick?”
“Sure. If it’s a chick’s dick, it doesn’t count. Totally
heterosexual.”
“Is this about that hermaphrodite porn you love so much?”
“Hey, you were the one dating the dyke. I’m sure strap-ons
and vibrators came into it somewhere.” Holden was silent a moment, thinking,
and when he opened his mouth Banky held up a hand. “Really, Holden. I don’t
need to know about your great adventures in dildo-land, okay?” He sighed.
“Look, I promise to be on my best queer behavior, and to be as gay as I
possibly can be. That alright with you?”
“That’s all I ask.”
“A simple man. So. How are we gonna do this?”
“Jesus, Banky. You like this with everyone you sleep with?
Cause this may be why you never get laid.”
“Hey, I may not date, but I fuck as many girls as the next
guy.”
“So…now, you fuck the next guy. Not that much of a jump.”
Banky suppressed his comment on Holden’s wordplay,
thankfully, instead leaning forward cautiously. After all that they’d just said
to each other, he still seemed to think it was all a joke, like Alyssa and
Hooper were going to jump out of Holden’s bedroom with a ‘congratulations, you’re
gay’ cake or something. Holden decided to make it easier on him, and just met
him halfway.
This time, it was a real kiss, with both of them
participating, and Holden did his best to forget that this was a guy, that this
was his best friend, and just…felt.
It was different than kissing a girl. Not as soft, in a
variety of ways, and not as easy. Banky didn’t lay back and just meet him lick
for lick, he tried to take over, to dominate Holden’s mouth, and Holden had to
meet him thrust for thrust, tongue for tongue, just to keep the balance. It was
harsher in lots of other ways, the scratch of Banky’s facial hair against his
cheeks, the rough pull of Banky’s fingers in his hair. When Banky pushed him
back on the couch and crawled on top of him, though, Holden had to laugh.
“What the fuck is so funny?” Banky said against his mouth.
“Shouldn’t I be the one on top?”
“Who says I’m the bitch and you’re the butch? Fags fuck as
well as get fucked, you know. Maybe I’m just the kind of faggot who tops,”
Banky said easily, and began to work his way down Holden’s neck, his kisses wet
and not at all delicate, his beard burning Holden’s throat.
“Okay, you’re the boss,” Holden said, trying not to arch and
gasp at the press of teeth against his Adam’s apple. This was for Banky, he
reminded himself, and licked slowly at Banky’s ear. It was there, and it was
safe, and Banky really seemed to like it. When Banky moaned, he chuckled and
bit at the lobe.
Banky shifted on top of him, and suddenly Holden could feel
his hard-on. Fuck. He’d known that at some point there would be penises
involved, because that was kind of the whole point. But it was still…strange.
Banky’s dick, right against his thigh. Banky’s thigh pressed against Holden’s
own cock, surprisingly hard inside his pants.
“This freaking you out?” Banky mumbled into his throat. He
was always so amazingly perceptive.
Holden shook his head slightly. He could smell Banky’s skin,
sweat and heat and just something distinctly male, like semen. “No,” he said.
“You?”
“No,” Banky answered. He seemed slightly bemused at the
fact.
Satisfied at that, sure that he had to do this for Banky,
Holden slid his hand down Banky’s back and then around, cupping him through his
pants. Banky stiffened and breathed in harshly, then continued mouthing his way
down, his kisses turning almost chaste when he hit the neck of Holden’s
t-shirt.
Holden laughed. “God, Banky, just take it off. Must
everything in your life be twice as difficult as it needs to be?”
Banky pulled back, and Holden was surprised that it didn’t
really seem weird anymore. He could look Banky in the eye and everything.
“Fine, you pushy bitch. You do realize you’ll have to take your hand off my
cock for me to get your shirt off, right?”
Well, there went that whole façade of normalcy. Holden took
his hand away and Banky hissed, but single-mindedly went about the arduous task
of stripping Holden of his shirts without getting off of him. That was one of
the things Holden loved about Banky—it was hard to get him to sit down and calm
down and just act fucking normal, but when he found a task that interested him,
he’d focus on it completely. That’s why he made such a good inker, and that was
why just watching him work Holden’s arms out of his shirtsleeves, biting his lip
and muttering curses under his breath, was so damn.
Well. Hot. Kind of.
Banky finally got the shirt off, throwing it over the back
of the couch. “Oh, fuck yeah. Who’s the fucking king, bitch?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Holden said, already reaching to help Banky
pull his own shirts off. Banky slapped at his hands and just pulled them both
over his head himself. Every time he shifted, to throw another article of
clothing or to reach for a swig of his beer, he rubbed against Holden’s crotch,
and it was starting to get. Uncomfortable. “Look, would it be too much for you
if I took my jeans off too?”
Banky grinned. “Am I just too fucking hot for you, Holden?”
“No, our fucking air conditioning is still broke, and this apartment
is too hot for me. Can I take my fucking pants off, or what?”
Banky shrugged and reached down to unbutton his own pants.
If he’d been a girl, Holden would have helped him, but it was just too odd,
watching him work his pants down over the bulge of his erection. He’d seen
Banky take off his pants before, to go skinny-dipping back when they were kids,
to get a little more comfortable when they were watching porn together, but
this was different. This time, the pants were coming off with intent.
He was so busy thinking about that that he didn’t even
notice Banky climbing off him. Bank coughed surreptitiously, and when Holden
looked up, Banky was standing in front of him in just his Superman boxers,
jeans in one hand, looking oddly vulnerable. Holden did his best to smile, and
Banky smiled back, just a huge happy fucking grin, and Holden decided right
then and there that anything that made Banky that happy could not at any time
become regrettable. He reached down to unfasten his own pants.
Banky dropped his jeans on the coffee table and leaned over
the couch, his hands joining Holden’s in unbuttoning and unzipping. It felt sort of like when they signed comics
together, hands bumping as they handed the pen back and forth. Finally they
were undone, and Banky pulled them off Holden’s legs, taking his shoes and
socks with them.
“Okay, so you want me to—”
“Banky, just get over here.” Holden’s voice sounded husky,
even to his own ears.
Banky, for once, didn’t say anything; he just climbed back
on top of Holden, half on top of him, half leaning against the back of the
couch. Holden tilted his head up to kiss him again, and this time it wasn’t
like any of the other—fuck, already there were four other times. This time it
was soft—softer, anyway—and not so much sweet as, just…grateful. Banky’s hand
came up to weave through his hair, and Banky’s lips and tongue didn’t fight for
power this time, they just stroked and caressed Holden’s mouth.
The only time he could recall seeing Banky kiss someone so
that it looked like what this probably looked like was when he broke up with
that girl Jennifer, back in college. Banky had cupped her face and kissed her
sweetly like he was going off to war or something, and Holden had thought that
it was one of the most fucking romantic things he’d ever seen in his life.
It didn’t feel so romantic from this end, but that could
have been the denial talking. It just felt surprisingly eloquent for anything
coming from Banky, surprisingly sweet.
Banky licked the inside of his mouth one more time, then
pulled back. His voice was low and soft. “Can we just admit that this is actual
sex now, and not any sort of big gay test?” He waited until Holden nodded, then
kissed him again, just a short lip-to-lip thing, and mouthed his way down
Holden’s face, biting his jaw and licking his neck until Holden moaned. Banky
laughed a little, muttered something that sounded like, “you are so my bitch,”
and then kissed his way down again. He completely bypassed Holden’s shoulders,
which chicks seemed oddly obsessed with, and went straight to his nipples.
That had to be what was best about being with a guy. They
didn’t stop to kiss your collarbone or play with your leg hair, like it was a
miracle or something. Nope, it was just right to the good stuff.
Banky licked one of Holden’s nipples, and rolled the other
one between his fingers, playing with it idly. He tilted his head to look at
Holden. “You know, guys’ nipples are kind of fucking weird. I’m used to tits
here, man.”
Holden closed his eyes, sucking in a breath. Fuck. Just the
second or third time he and Alyssa had made love, she’d said almost exactly the
same thing. And there he was fucking his best friend when she’d walked out of
his life barely an hour ago.
“Holden?” He opened his eyes. Banky was looking down at him,
eyes wide and worried. “Are you crying?”
Holden reached up a hand, swiping at his eyes, and said,
“No, man. No. Don’t worry about it.”
Banky continued to look worried, but went back to what he
was doing. Holden laid his head on the arm of the couch and tried to just feel.
Tried not to think about Alyssa, and the look on her face once she realized
what was going on, the feel of her open hand hitting him, and—
“Oh, fuck.” Holden felt like a fucking teenager, but
he was pretty sure he’d be coming in the next five seconds. Banky smiled up at
him, hands wrapped around the top of Holden’s boxers. “Fuck, Banky, warn a guy
first.”
“If I’d warned you, I probably wouldn’t have gotten that
reaction from you. And that was just funny as hell.”
“Ha fucking ha.” Banky licked him again through his boxers,
and he groaned. “Oh, you asshole.”
Banky just laughed harder, and said, “Do you want me to take
these off?”
Holden thought about it for a second. “I don’t know, man.
I’m not so fond of the idea of getting beard-burn on my dick.”
Banky made a face. “Ouch. Good point.” He bent his head
again and sucked hard through the cotton, and Holden came with only a muffled
groan as warning. Banky wrinkled his nose at the taste. “Maybe it’s the cotton
flavoring, but this doesn’t taste nearly as good as pussy.”
Holden laughed. “Fuck. That was embarrassingly fast.”
“Chalk it up to the shock of having a guy’s mouth on your
dick for the first time.”
“And probably the last.” Holden sat up, trying to shake off
his post-orgasm tiredness. He yawned, but motioned Banky closer. “Get over
here.” Banky moved over, till he was right next to Holden. Holden kissed him
again, very quickly. “Well. You were right about the taste, anyway…”
“Does that mean I don’t get a blowjob?”
Holden blanched. “Um. Maybe not. Can I just…” He gestured to
Banky’s crotch.
Banky grinned at him. “You know I’m gonna make you say it.”
“Will you bestow upon me the honor of jerking you off, oh
kind sir?”
Banky shrugged. “I was just gonna ask for a simple, ‘can I
touch your dick,’ but whatever.”
“Just shut up and take off your shorts.”
“Oh, hell no. The last thing I want is you freaking out at
the sight of my dick. It would crush my fragile ego.”
“The last thing your ego is, Banky, is fragile.” Holden
shook his head. “Whatever, just get over here.”
Banky sighed and moved closer. When Holden’s hand slipped
into his boxers, he made a little breathy whimpery noise, and Holden laughed. “You
okay, or has your inner little girl come out to play?”
“Shut the fuck up and move your hand, Holden.”
Holden moved his hand, ignoring Banky’s hiss when his hand
finally wrapped around Banky’s cock. He did his best not to freak out, but it
was…weird. Almost like holding his own dick, but without the right nerve
endings attached. It was hot, and hard, and leaking at the tip, and oh holy
fuck, he was getting his best friend off. He would have let go, but Banky’s
eyes were closed, and he was biting his bottom lip, and fuck. He’d promised, if
not to Banky, to himself. Besides, he was just jerking off another guy. That
didn’t make him gay.
Never fucking mind what Banky’d said earlier.
Holden’s fist tightened, and Banky came with a moan and his
forehead pressed against Holden’s shoulder. “Oh, shit. Fuck, Holden.” Holden
took his hand out of Banky’s shorts, wiping them on the fabric. Banky laughed
into his neck. “Well, I guess a good deep-dicking was all I needed.”
“Yeah,” Holden said. “I guess.”
Banky pulled away to look at him, smile fading. “I guess
this is the part where it gets awkward, huh?”
“I’ve got your cum on my hand, man—”
“And I’ve got your cum in my mouth, but you don’t see me
freaking out.” The beginning signs of a Banky diatribe were all there: the
fingers bouncing on his thigh, the narrowed eyes. If his hat was on, he’d be
pulling it further onto his forehead.
Holden stood up, glad his legs weren’t shaky anymore. He
walked into the kitchen and got himself a beer. “That’s different, Banky.
You’re gay. This was just something I had to do to help you out.”
Banky snorted. “Did I mention that I have your cum in
my mouth?”
Holden sighed and sat down on the couch. “Look, all of this
was for you, Banky. You‘re my best friend, and I love you, and I wanted to help
you cope with this.”
“Uh-huh. And now, your good deed for the day finished, you
return to your life of complete heterosexuality.”
“I’m not gay, Banky.”
“Right. And how the fuck do you come to the conclusion that
I’m gay, and you’re definitively not gay?”
“Because you’re in love with me, and I’m not in love with
you.”
Banky just looked at him. Then he silently stood up, picked
his jeans up off the coffee table, and walked back to his room.
Holden looked back at the clock.
END
