The Carnivore [boyxboy]

Chapter 8

“Well why not?” Kristen said, her voice getting louder in the house.

“There’s no reason for you to, Kristen,” Deacon answered lamely.

Rory snuck down the stairs and peeked into the living room where they were having their first couples fight.

“You’ve come over to my house plenty of times. Why can’t I ever go to yours?” Kristen complained. “You have dinner with us a few days a week, and I’ve never even met your parents! I don’t even know if you have siblings!”

“I have an older brother… and only a dad,” Deacon answered. “And neither of them are to prone to having girls over. I don’t want you coming, Kristen.”

“You know, traditionally, the parents of the girl give her to the husbands family in return for money or goods. They don’t care much about meeting parents,” Rory finally spoke up from his perch on the stairs.

Kristen whipped around. “Rory this is not your problem! Go to your room!”

“Kristen, relax,” Deacon hissed. “Don’t get so pissed at him. But I’m serious. I don’t want you coming over to my house, okay?”

Kristen let out a shriek of frustration before storming passed Rory and up into her room. Rory flinched at the slamming of a door, and Deacon gave Rory a helpless look. “Well that went well. What are you doing?”

“Listening,” Rory answered simply, standing up from his crouch. “I could hear you guys upstairs anyways.”

Deacon sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Think I should head out, or do I have a chance of her cooling down in an hour or two?”

Rory shrugged. “Like I would know anything about that.”

“This is true. I’ll stay for a bit, see where she is around dinner time. If she’s still pissed I’ll just leave then,” Deacon decided. “Mind if I come hang out in your room for a bit?”

No, it was not okay. What if Deacon tried to do something again? “Okay,” Rory agreed dubiously, mentally kicking himself. He should learn to say no more often.

“How was your day at school then?” Deacon asked as he led the way upstairs.

Rory slowly followed. “History teacher kept giving me crap about going to counseling for my ‘condition’,” Rory admitted sourly. “It’s not a condition. I just care about cleanliness more than most people.”

Deacon chuckled and started exploring around Rory’s room. Rory took a safe seat in his computer chair, preventing Deacon from getting too close and personal. His eyes kept drifting to his bed though, remembering what had happened that one night.

“Your ever expanding collection of magazines,” Deacon murmured. “What happens when you run out of shelf space?”

“Boxes in the garage, starting with the oldest. After I pick out a few that I want to re-read often,” Rory answered.

“Is that a new one?” Deacon asked, pointing at the one on Rory’s desk.

Rory glanced over his shoulder, only realizing he still had the most recent one out. “Uh, yeah.” He silently begged Deacon not to look through it and not to see that picture.

Deacon picked it up anyways, flipping aimlessly through the glossy pages. “Oh, this ones on art,” he commented. “Now that I can understand. Not swine flu.”

“Give it back,” Rory managed to croak, holding his hand out and hoping he could get it before Deacon got too far.

“I’m just looking,” Deacon protested innocently. Rory could tell when he saw the picture—he flipped by it at first, but then he went back a few pages to stop and look. Deacon smiled slightly and looked up to Rory. “Interesting picture.”

Rory finally snatched the magazine back, tucking it into a desk drawer. Deacon chuckled and sat back on Rory’s bed. “It’s not anything to be ashamed of, though I’m not really one to talk,” Deacon said. “Every teenage boy’s got to have something he looks at when he jerks off.”

“I haven’t,” Rory snapped defensively. “It’s not porn. It’s art.”

“Doesn’t have to be porn. If you like what you see, then…” Deacon trailed off and made a suggestive motion with his hand.

“I don’t,” Rory insisted heatedly.

Deacon raised his eyebrows. “So you haven’t jerked off at all?”

Rory swallowed hard. How had they gotten on this topic? He didn’t like this topic. “Once or twice,” he admitted dryly. “But not recently.”

“Do you wake up wet, then?” Deacon questioned. “Not jerking off can do that to you.”

“None of your business,” Rory snapped and spun around in his chair.

He could hear his bed creak and then felt a wide hand over the back of his head. Rory glared up at Deacon, not welcoming the casual touch. “You’re just fucking adorable,” Deacon said with a smile, leaning down and giving Rory a kiss over the lips.

Rory felt a tongue run over his lips and quickly jerked back. His rolling chair went out from under him and he wound up on his back. “Shit, Rory,” Deacon grumbled, setting the chair right before going to help Rory up.

Rory batted Deacon’s hand away with a solid glare, though.

Deacon sighed and knelt down by Rory. He grabbed Rory’s hand anyways, squeezing it tightly when Rory tried to pull away. He gave Rory some strange look but didn’t go any further. He sighed again and stood up. “You know what, never mind. I’ll just go home. Tell Kristen I’m sorry about earlier or something.”

He left Rory’s room, and a minute later Rory heard the front door open and shut. Rory finally pulled himself up from the floor then, rubbing his back where he’d landed. He cupped his hand over his mouth, still not sure why Deacon felt the need to do those kinds of things.

Rory sat at his desk again and opened up his drawer. He stared down at the magazine that was causing him so much trouble. Did Deacon masturbate to these kinds of things? Rory went to the page of the accused picture. Rory traced a finger over the lines of the man’s body, rubbing his thumb over where the man’s shaft hung between his legs.

Rory quickly drew back when a weird shiver went up his spine. It was a picture, that was stupid. The feeling didn’t entirely go away though. Instead it settled in between his legs, making him squirm uncomfortably. He tried to distract himself with the internet but his mind kept drifting.

His mind and body kept thinking of the night Deacon had come into his room—how it had felt to have another erection rubbing against his own. Rory couldn’t help it when his shaft became fully hard. He clutched it and wished it would go away, but his hand only made the sensation worse.

It was only three in the afternoon. Weren’t these things supposed to happen at night? Rory tried to work out things in his head. His mother wouldn’t be home for another hour and Kristen was still sulking in her room. Rory got up from his chair and closed his bedroom door, locking it as well. He almost never did that and felt like he was giving off all kind of signals.

He settled back into his computer chair and opened up his pants. He looked down at himself helplessly. Was he supposed to touch that? He’d only done it in the shower before. Should he take an out of routine shower? No, that would only raise questions. He’d just have to wash his hands afterwards.

Rory tentatively wrapped his hand around his shaft and gave it a gentle tug. It felt good. He continued the careful touches of stroking as he fixed his eyes up on the ceiling. This was all Deacon’s fault. Rory hadn’t done any of this before he came along.

And it didn’t help that Rory kept remembering what Deacon had done to him. Deacon had kissed him and played with his nipples. That memory alone made Rory tense slightly and he tried to think about something else. Instead he only thought about the feel of Deacon against him and how strange it had been, yet still managed to feel good.

He hadn’t been able to see much Deacon in the dark and wondered more at what he had looked like. The only glimpse of Deacon he had gotten had been in the rec center bathrooms. Rory’s mind kept focusing on Deacon, feeding him false images of what Deacon looked like during sex.

Soon Rory felt himself peaking. He came over his hand with thoughts of Deacon still on his mind.

Rory basked in the high for a moment before reality set in on him. There was something sticky on his hand. He frantically looked around for something to clean up with, but he had nothing. Was this why everyone had tissues in their room?

He waddled awkwardly over to the door, listening outside. He let himself out of his room and hurried into the bathroom to clean up. Only then did he realize he’d gotten some on his shirt as well. Rory quickly stripped off his shirt and wiped himself down with water and a towel. He washed his hands with soap and fixed his pants.

He didn’t know what to do with his shirt. Would his mother notice something like that in the laundry? She hadn’t said anything about his underwear that one time. He retreated back to his room and tossed his shirt into the laundry basket. He put a new one on and put the magazine away.

Rory curled up on his bed with the intent of taking a nap. This was all Deacon’s fault.