Prom Night

Dear Readers,

The much-awaited next chapter!! Sorry it took so long. Writing this kind of stuff got put on hold for a little while due to some love complications and graduate school. This chapter may not have any sexual parts, but I was trying to get some ends of the last few chapters straight and some other stuff out of the way so we can get to the really good stuff in the next chapter (which I'm already working on and am hoping to have up either this week or next).

Hope you guys enjoy it, and thank you so much to all of you for reading and sending your feedback. What people have emailed me has been truly touching! Apologies in advance if I'm rusty.

With Great Appreciation,

Steve

Prom Night: Chapter 04

"So, he caught you right there like that? Everything hanging out?" David, my best friend, asked. His face was incredulous with the information I'd just told him about the jack-off session interrupted by my father. Apparently, an empty garage sometimes means your father's car in the shop.

"Yup, everything hanging out," I confirmed. I left out the part about just

where

my fingers were at the time of his entrance, not quite comfortable enough even with him to admit that secret. But he'd heard the rest of the story, or at least enough of it as I was alright with telling him because I didn't know how to proceed around my father. I mean, how in hell would any normal high school guy handle it? They just didn't; this was level five disaster shit. Things had been more awkward with my father than ever. All throughout dinner that night and the next few days he barely could face me. Our conversations were as dry and lacked as much weight as sawdust.

David bit his lip and shifted the straps of his backpack. He looked sort of cute like that, though, although I would never have told him. And I made sure I didn't stare too long. It had taken me enough courage as of late to be able to look at other guys and admit to myself that, yes, they were good looking. Telling them or giving it away through an awkward stare was a different animal I was terrified to handle. "What if you just keep it cool? You know, I'm sure his dad caught him," David broke me back to the present.

I shuddered at the thought of my grandfather catching my father jerking off. "But what if it's never the same?" This is where I wish I had been honest with him; advice without the facts was never the same.

"He has to crack eventually," David said. "No sweat, you know?" He slammed his locker shut, and we started down the hallway to our next classes. "Or... Maybe he'll forget. Old people do that." He shoved my arm.

I rolled my eyes at his pathetic attempt at a joke, and I didn't laugh. The joke flashed instead on another older guy who I knew would never forget anything of the past few days. Things had been awkward on that front, too.

"So, what do you have next?"

"History."

"With Monaco?"

I nodded, thankful that he knew nothing of what happened with him. David was nice, but he also had a bit of a mouth. "Yup," I confirmed, "Unless they trained a chimp to lecture on ancient Greece."

"A real ball buster, isn't he?"

I forced a smile, but my brain was screaming. "You have no idea."

David laughed a little and then waved as he went his separate way to leave me suddenly alone in front of James's classroom. He was standing outside the open door, dressed in a dark green button down with black slacks. The top button was open just enough that I could glimpse that coarse black chest hair I couldn't stop fantasizing about rubbing against in bed. My eyes roamed him with a secret thirst trying to break free within me, wanting him right in the middle of the hallway. "Believe me, you have no idea," I repeated, if only to myself.

But James's eyes caught me as I neared, and I forced myself to look away. There was no way I'd give him the benefit of acknowledgement, much less the knowledge that I still wanted him even though he'd hurt me. Not after what he did to me—what we did together. I shuffled past him, not giving him enough time to stop me or say anything when I walked by. He turned to me, though, and I caught his cologne—sweetness with a hit of something like cinnamon. And was that guilt I saw on his face out of the corner of my eye?

It didn't matter. We were two people plaster cast into two entirely different times of life, entirely different roles in this world. And nothing would stop that from being how it would be unless he got his head out of his ass and looked past that.

I took my seat and opened my binder to my latest homework assignment, knowing once the bell rang that he'd be around to check it. I told myself I didn't care about that stupid look of guilt on his face or the way he stared down at the floor as he stood outside the classroom. But I knew it was a lie because I couldn't stop watching him through the rectangle of floor to ceiling fire-glass. His back like a partially deflated balloon while his ass still filled out the seat of his pants in a tight bubble.

I had to stop myself before the memories of what we did filled my mind, and I told myself if I could just make it through him checking our homework that I could make it through till the end of class. Till the end of the day when I could lay a strip of tracks in my Plymouth on the backroads and cry, knowing no one would be watching. I had been feeling more reckless lately.

The bell rang, and it was a moment later I heard him shut the door. It was too late to run. And when I saw that solemn expression of mixed disappointment and guilt in every pore of his face, I realized too late that I couldn't do this. This week had been torturous for me, showing up day after day to his class only to will myself to keep it together so I wouldn't have to feel for him. I should have hated him. He probably thought of me as a sexual toy, and worse than that I'd allowed him to use me as such.

You're not being rational. Just stop it; you don't know what he's thinking.

But I couldn't stop it. Worse than anything, he'd been my first time ever. Not only with a guy, he was the first person I'd ever been sexual with. And somehow the idea that he was getting married just slipped his mind.

How does that happen to anyone?

I didn't want to know.

My cock twitched, though, when he entered my row. Wading his way through the swamp of excuses and the frantic show of shuffling papers, the insistence that homework had been completed and was merely lost when it had never been done at all. When he came to my desk, I was rock hard—that scent of cinnamon intoxicating. Taking me back to the night I was intoxicated with every inch of him.

"Hi, Dom."

"Mr. Monaco." I didn't meet his gaze. I didn't want to face him. My throat burned as his eyes bore into me.

"You okay?" James said after a minute.

I left it go a few seconds, willing myself to get the fire inside me under control. And then I looked a him, the deep lines of his face dripping with guilt. A silence fell between us as we stared at each other, and when it sank lower, I saw that guilt deepen. As if our roles were somehow reversing, and I realized that he thought I had all the power. The guilt was there, but it was rimmed with fear too. Afraid I'd take his job from him.

James didn't know I wasn't that person. That it was never about that.

With my best front, I swallowed the blaze in my throat, willing myself to keep it together with the realization that the guilt was never over me. It was over policy. It was over his job, who he was required to be and how that role was endangered. The tell was there in his eyes, so I did the only thing I could do. I stared back until he withdrew like a well-whipped dog.

I continued that way throughout most of the lesson, my eyes burning into his whenever his gaze met me while it was sweeping the room to see who was paying attention. But doing so backfired on me, and every time James Monaco averted his eyes to the floor during one of our exchanges, I felt my endurance wavering. It was a battle without words or combat; just when it seemed my own drive to silently scold him faltered, he regained an ounce of composure to be the authoritative figure leading the class, teaching a lesson about ancient Greece. The balance of power teetered back and forth between my attempts to maintain my angered gaze and his occasional stutters and sentences left unfinished like that until the bell finally cut his lesson short.

It was over for today.

"Alright, sit back down, Greg. The bell does not dismiss you; that's what they pay me the peanuts for," James commanded over the metallic clang of the bell. The entirety of the class's attention fell on the student scrambling to get back in his seat, face flushed. Giggles resonated throughout the rows as he did, until Mr. Monaco took his place at the front of the room. "Now, before you go, everyone understands the assignment and the lesson? I want a one-page reflection on the ancient Greek civilization. No one has any questions?"

I knew it was a bad idea before my hand shot up, but what did I have left to lose? I raised my hand, if only to be brave and show him I had no fear. That I, too, could carry on like he never meant anything.

His face went white, falling on me. And for a brief moment, I possessed all the power in the room—not the man who had taken my ass only days ago. The shift was complete, and without a word he motioned that the class was dismissed. I sat there, hand still in the air, while he ignored me with his still white, face and went to erase the board behind him.

I lowered my hand, fuming, but I would not be ignored. I remained in my seat as the stampede of my classmates rushed for the door. I'd known from prior classes that he had a preparation period after our class, and while I knew staying was a bad idea, I couldn't help myself. Gym class would wait, and I felt a little reckless. Staying wouldn't do anything except make matters worse, but he deserved to hear every word. Besides, who could either of us tell?

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" He didn't look at me as he closed the door, preparing us for the fight to come, and wrote some new notes for an upcoming class on the board. His voice was short, devoid of all the tenderness he'd shown me when our clothes were off.

I swallowed hard and tried my best to match his tone. "I guess room 316 if we really want to be technical."

"Dominic..." He turned, and the mask of the teacher was obliterated. What was left could only be described as hurt—the face of a man bound by an oath he'd taken, in more ways than one.

It only enraged me more. "So now you use my full name?"

He haphazardly dropped his notes and whiteboard markers on his table at the front of the room. Then like a deflating balloon he came down my row and sat on the desk directly in front of me. "Listen..." He paused as if he didn't know what words were appropriate. Then, "I'm sorry. It should never have happened. I'm going to level with you one hundred percent here... I was an asshole. I admit it. I was wrong; it was wrong. And if I could go back—"

"—If you could go back you wouldn't fuck my ass?" I stared at him, incredulous. "Was I that bad? Or was I just a hole you could use in a moment of weakness?"

"Now, that's not fair," James snapped.

"Neither is finding out later that someone you thought you could trust is getting married. But you're right, a hole is a hole."

"Enough," James growled in true teacher fashion. Then the mask disappeared again, and the hurt and the defeat were back in the lines of his face. He swallowed, and carefully he told me, "You really don't know half of what you think you know, Dominic."

The words burned more than any yell could. But I was too angry to care. "You know, Mr. Monaco, you're right. I thought I was getting to know you, after all." I shouldered my backpack as he watched me, as if he couldn't believe what I had just said. But I wasn't looking back this time. I was exiting the row and making tracks for the door. My throat was fire now, the tears welling in my eyes.

"That's great. That's really fucking great. Way to be an adult, Dom. Run away just like last time, why don't you?"

"Fuck you," I whirled around, and now the tears fell freely. What façade I had of the strong student, there to call out his bullshit, was in pieces at my feet. I was the hurt, sexually confused boy, who just wanted to be loved. But I wasn't stopping to hope. The disbelief in his face that I was crying over him was enough to know where I stood—just not enough to provide what I would never get from him. And like the child he wanted me to be, I exited through the door and left him there alone.

***

You just keep digging that hole deeper, don't you?

His mind screamed at himself.

Real great, the kid is hurting and you make it worse. You really must be worried about that job.

It was true. Part of James Monaco was worried, but then again, part of him hadn't been doing so hot ever since that night in Dominic's hotel room. It was that part of himself—the part that hadn't slept well in the past four days—that made him a little more reckless than usual. That was why he was now crouched behind a dumpster behind the school, smoking his second cigarette off camera.

I guess teachers sometimes break the rules too.

He couldn't believe it. In less than a week, he'd gone from a straight edge History teacher to a bad man—a rule breaker playing Russian roulette. Except, unlike Dominic's life, he couldn't just scrub his hands clean of his indiscretions when the gun went off. This was his life, and while he deserved everything that he was sure would be coming to me in the next few weeks, it didn't mean he didn't have his own regrets.

Maybe Dominic could keep a secret. But that didn't mean that nosey parents or locker room talk between friends didn't sometimes betray the truth. All it took was his father to find him crying alone or another teacher on hall duty to hear the shouting they'd shared only a few hours ago to put two and two together. The only question was—would it be the smoking on school grounds or the sexual conduct with a student that would see his contract through?

He didn't know, and if he was honest, he didn't much care in that moment. He closed his eyes after taking another drag off the nicotine, and when its kiss touched every part of his veins, he saw Dom's face in the nothingness of his closed eyes. It was the face of the boy James had seen every night in his dreams since he first slept with him. And it secretly killed him.

James didn't know why he dreamt about Dom. Guilt was part of it, but in his dreams, he felt no guilt. Not even when Dominic flashed that killer smile from down on his knees and then took the entirety of his teacher's cock down his throat.

They were sex dreams.

James thought it was a fluke the first night it happened, startling himself awake just after four in the morning, lying in Caroline's bed next to her. He tried to tell himself that the boy in the dream he was thrusting into repeatedly was really Caroline—that the leaking erection he had when he woke up was from the scent of her perfume on the pillows. But he knew better. And as if to prove to himself that he was still a man—still a straight man—he tried to put the moves on Caroline later that morning. It worked, at least at first. But once her panties came off and her delicate fingers wrapped around his girth, it went flaccid. The touch was nothing like Dom's. And although they'd tried the next day, James had to admit that he couldn't perform then either.

He let out a slow exhale of smoke into the spring breeze, but he had to take another drag as the thought of the final night flashed in his brain. He watched some leaves skip across the ground as he remembered. That night had been a disaster too, but not only because he couldn't perform. When they were deep into their lovemaking, skin on skin, and he was still soft, the picture of Dominic—of that sweet high school cock—slipped into his head. James recalled, while he was against Caroline, how it felt to reach between his legs and touch its length. Feel it harden between his fingers, knowing that it was wrong and yet so right all at the same time. It was a remembrance James had to keep with him just to keep his cock up enough to fuck Caroline. And then afterward, while she slumbered in the crook of his arm, he felt like he hadn't proved anything at all.

He felt the bulge of his slacks tighten and found his cock straining to be free. His underwear was tight against his thighs, his right thigh slick with sticky precum.

What the fuck is happening to me?

James thought he knew, but the possibility of it scared him to no end. Terrified that he was making a mistake. Still, he had to admit to himself that what scared him most of all was that he had feelings of more than a sexual nature for his student.

Feelings that, if pursued, would consume his life.

*

His erection hadn't died entirely the rest of the day. It had calmed to a numbing, half-hard chub. But whenever he was alone and the thought of Dominic crossed his mind, James Monaco's dick sprang to full mast. He had never felt so dirty in his entire life, but part of him couldn't help but enjoy it.

Fearing another humiliating experience with trying to live up to what he'd already promised to be for Caroline, he called her on his way home from work and told her he had a lot of work to do. It was a lie, but only partly. The truth was that, after his unit on ancient Greece was through in the next two weeks, he didn't have anything else to carry them till the last week of school. There was an abundance of planning to be done, but since he had the night to himself and his never-ending imaginings, he knew there was no chance that he could be productive.

He put one of his Fleetwood Mac albums, and while the vinyl scratched away about secondhand news and believing in tomorrow, he nuked some leftovers. His place wasn't much—a cramped little house on Cedar Street—but it had its perks. One of them was the deep L-shaped porch that reached all the way past his bedroom. During thunderstorms, like the one he was currently watching roll in through the window in the kitchen, James liked to lie in bed with the windows wide open listening to the rain crash against the slate roof of the porch.

He didn't understand why Caroline didn't like that. She hated his little rented house, hated its simple 1930's architecture. She needed to live in the newest apartment building in her complex. She needed a cookie-cutter living space that would be identical to her neighbors. And for what? James wished he knew. It was one of the things he knew he would never understand about her and one of the reasons it never mattered how James kept his house. Caroline always insisted he had to stay in her apartment if it came down to sleeping together.

A sound of thunder and the mew of "his" cat sounded at the front screen door, breaking him back to the present. He didn't know if anyone else in the neighborhood fed Toby, but it seemed like clockwork that he always came at seven for dinner. "Toby" as James affectionately named the stray black and white tomcat which roamed the neighborhood, had come every night since James first moved in. After a couple mouthfuls of leftover tuna casserole, he grabbed the metal food dish from the counter and filled it with some dry cat food from the pantry. But just as he was about to place the food dish out on the porch for Toby to eat, James stopped dead in his tracks.

With Toby at his feet, Dominic was standing at the door.