Getting Tangled

Author's Notes: After shopping this story around a bit I couldn't find the right editor for it so it is presented "as is". If it sucks, feel free to say so but try to be helpful with your comments if possible!

This is my first story written from a male perspective (Julie and Dom started out as one, and there's a sentence I missed in there that proves it!). If I got anything anatomically wrong, please let me know for future reference.

And finally, there is a line in here that is totally stolen from Futurama. If you don't catch it you should totally go (re)watch the entire series. Not so you can get the reference but just because it is a great series.

Thanks!

PSLL

"You're really gay?" Steve asked, clearly caught by surprise but not wanting it to seem like a big deal.

"Yeah, I have sex with men and everything." I had gotten so used to the question that I took it with nothing more than the most gracious of polite smiles. My previous default answer had been "No, but I thought saying I am was a good way to score chicks." It turns out sarcasm is a lost art.

Such was the fate of the gay male nerd: an eternity of explaining that no, we don't all wear flamboyant colors and lisp fashion advice to our coterie of platonic female friends. Some of us are perfectly content to dress in drab, practical clothes for our usually drab, practical days.

When I first came out of the closet I had tried to be "gay" gay; the clubs, the parties, the hook ups, the outrageous dress. All the stuff we inherited from our gay forbearers who came out of the shadows to forge our gay identity. I was miserable, posing in an identity as false as the guy who used to tell his mother that there were a lot of girls I was thinking about, but for now I was just focusing on my studies.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate gay culture. It took a lot of balls for that first wave of activists to go out there and advertise that they didn't conform to everyone else's gender norms. Mad props to them. But that was a different time. I'll join the organizations, I'll go out and canvass for gay friendly candidates, but I just don't have the energy or the interest to do the whole "scene".

Of course, that means that I have to use my energies to explain time and time again that yes, I am gay, and no, I was not hiding the fact that I am gay, I just saw no need to discuss my sex life with you. I really appreciate that I don't have to hide it with you, but I wasn't hiding it. I just have a personality outside of being gay, thank you very much. And why didn't you tell me you were straight?

"You just really don't fit the type," Steve said, taking a sip of his coffee. At least he was honest.

"I've got a ton of Lady Gaga on my iPod," I offered. That made him laugh. He was a good looking guy, a friend of my (straight) roommate from Colorado with a lean climber's physique and rugged mountain tan to match. And I was pretty sure he'd been checking me out.

It had caught me off guard at first, especially since my roommate said he was getting over the dissolution of a multiyear relationship with a girl, and at first I had wondered if I my gaydar was just getting interference from the proverbial "gay weather balloon". But no, he definitely noticed guys in a way he didn't notice girls. Mid twenties and still hiding in the closet, that was sad.

Anyways, he was cute and smart it had been a while since I had the time or energy to be out there on the scene, so I took advantage of my roommate's absence to do a little flirting. Steve was receptive, but a little surprised when I mentioned that "my last boyfriend" had dropped off the grid to do the Appalachian Trail. What can I say? Hikers are my type.

He was definitely eyeing me now, and I could almost see the gears turning in his brain. Previously I had been a nice piece of eye candy, now I was a prospect. I met his gaze with a smile.

"Have you done much with guys?" I asked, savoring the question and its implications more than I should have. He squirmed in his seat, eyes dropping to the table.

"You know, just the usual dumb teen shit."

I set my coffee down and eyed him. "Is that why it didn't work out?" As soon as I said it I expected him to yell at me. That really wasn't my business. But he just shrugged and nodded.

"She kept trying all this stuff. Asking if I wanted to tie her up, or see her with another girl, she even offered to get her boobs done." His voice was distant, the way you make it when you don't want to get all emotional. "I felt like shit for making her feel that way. I kept saying she was sexy and I wanted her, but it was always a chore, you know?"

I reached out and put my hand on his, giving it a squeeze. He looked me in the eye, put a lopsided smile over his worried face and squeezed back. It was a charged, intimate moment and I was getting a little hard.

I thought that I really shouldn't make a move. Coming out of the closet is a whole thing, and I really didn't have it in me to support him through the whole process. I shouldn't have started something I didn't want to finish. But when I looked into his hazel eyes and saw the clear features of his sun tanned face I remembered just how long it had been.

"I think I'm done with my coffee," I said, voice dripping with promises as I stood up from the table, keeping his hand in mine. His eyes followed me, his lips posed on the brink of response.

"Yeah, me too." He relaxed as he said it, the agony of decision melting off him as he stood up and I pulled him in for a kiss. It was gentle, more of a brush of the lips as I let him adjust to the feeling of my arms around him.

There was a pause, then he kissed me back vigorously. I pulled him tight against me, feeling our bodies press together, the hardness of his cock pressing up against my pelvis. I groped his ass and it felt just as hard and sculpted as it looked. There were condoms and lube in my room, but full on anal would probably have to wait a bit if he was only acquainted with "stupid teen shit".

We bumped a few walls as we scrambled back to my room in each other's embrace. He was a really good kisser. Maybe he was ready for the lube...

I got him down on my bed and started peeling his polo shirt up, my lips following the hem up over his washboard abs. His hands were in my hair and on my shoulders, so I couldn't get his shirt up over his chest, but that just gave me some time to tongue one sun-browned nipple. His chest was just my type: firm pecs, but none of that oversized body builder BS.

After a bit of wrestling his shirt was off and my pants were down, my cock pushing out against my boxers as I kissed his collarbone and humped his thigh, feeling his trapped dick yearn for me through his jeans. He pulled me into a deep tongue kiss as he pawed at my shirt, and I pulled back to let him yank it off, leaving me upright straddling his prostrate body.

I smirked down at him as I rode his still trapped dick, my hands pushing his shoulders back to the bed. "You've done this before," I observed.

He was too excited to act abashed, hands on my ribs as he rolled us over so I was on my back looking up as he ground his crotch into mine. "Just some stupid teen shit. Linebacker. Said he'd beat my fag ass if I told anyone."

"Fucking fags and their fucking issues," I commiserated, luxuriating in the vulgarity as I grappled with his fly. We scrambled around until he was on the edge of the bed and I was on my knees in front of him, stripping off his pants and underwear.

I looked up at him as I grabbed his cock, feeling every beat of his heart shoot through his rigid rod. He was gripping the edge of my bed, the look on his face like it was Christmas morning and Santa might have brought him that Red Ryder gun. I gave him a good couple licks, savoring every quake and shiver he gave, then the way his fingers gripped my hair as I went down on him.

"You like that, don't you?" I teased when I had a moment, before running my tongue around the crown of his cock. I had managed to get my boxers down and was cradling my own dick with one hand, feeling it all primed and ready. From the sounds he made, I knew he did.

I tasted some of his precum in my mouth, and after a little handling my fingers were getting slick with my own jizz. As I worked my lips on his shaft I snuck my semi-lubed fingers up under his crotch, crooking one finger to tease his tight puckered sphincter. His ass clenched up, but after a second it relaxed and I massaged his back door until the tip of my finger snuck in.

"Ever had anyone up there?" I asked when my mouth was free again. He shook his head no. "Lay face down on the bed," I commanded as I stood up to get the condoms and lube. "You'll love it."

There was a hesitation, but then he got into position, his firm rump raising up from his body like an old Viking mound. After I got my condom on I climbed on top of him, letting my dick rest between his buttcheeks as I kissed the back of his neck and ears.

"That's it, now you just got to relax and it will feel good," I promised as I rocked gently back and forth, dick sliding across that valley. He started to rock with me, pretty much humping my bed. My lips wandered along his cheeks and shoulders, waiting until I felt the apprehension seep from him, then I raised up a little and smeared the lube on my condom covered cock.

I put one hand on his back as I aimed my instrument up his ass. "Ready?" He nodded. "Just relax," I coaxed as I pushed up into him, slow and steady. "Relax."

There was a little resistance, but I took it slow. I had to, he was so tight around me that I thought I made shoot my wad right then, but slowly I sank into him, and started to find my rhythm. At first we tried some awkward over the shoulder kissing, but soon we both just focused on the fucking. I could tell by the way he grunted and pushed his dick into the bed he'd cum soon, and I knew I wouldn't last much longer...