Prom Night

My Dear Readers,

I'm baaaack...

My apologies for the extreme delays, especially with the later chapters. While I had a few different ideas on how to build up to ending this thing, once I picked one, I had to make certain the trajectory of the story was just right (to satisfy my own peace of mind). Of course, as a music nut, there were some beautiful Stevie Nicks lines I had to include to help tell the story. I hope you enjoy how I used them because they're some of my favorite lines. See how many you know; they're cited at the end of this chapter if you can't name the songs (I wanted to give proper credit to Stevie, of course.)

I hope all of you enjoy the second to last chapter of this story. I'm already halfway through the final chapter.

Thanks for sticking with me,

Steve

Prom Night: Chapter 8

The night I returned home from my falling out with James Monaco, I sat up late watching reruns of nineties sitcoms with my father. I tried my best to act as if nothing was the matter—if only to hold up my part of the deal to forever keep our secret—so I could avoid whatever questions my father might have. While I had already shared the secret with Todd, I didn't want to involve anyone else. What happened was done. And as if my father could pick up on that, he made no effort to question me about my evening or why my eyes were damp from crying in the car when I returned home.

He finally went to bed at almost one, but I didn't move. I only stared at the television screen, replaying the words James and I exchanged again and again. My mind finding countless things I should have said or could have done differently, until my brain was nothing but a jumble of hurt and regret. How could he not try to work with me to figure something out when he made it seem like all he wanted was me? Did he really want me, or was it all just some fucked up series of hookups? And what did that mean, in the grand scheme of things?

I didn't know. And watching sitcoms was only beginning to piss me off as I watched straight, cookie cutter marital couples have tiffs in every television episode that was resolved just in time for the half-hour credits. So, at 2:30AM, I finally shut off the television and tried to go to bed—only to find that sleep too would evade me.

It was like my brain was on constant replay. James's voice kept repeating his words from our argument over and over, the memories overlaid with other memories of him. The joyous moments he held me close; the long walk we took together on prom night just talking; all of it came back again and again with the single realization that it was over. That whatever we had was ruined by his unwillingness to try.

This wasn't fair. And the more that I thought about it, the more I couldn't sleep. I laid there in the dark the rest of the night, wanting nothing more than to be able to just drop it and sleep. To forget about James Monaco and carry on as if he'd meant nothing to me. Recalling that I had never felt this way after an argument before—angry and hurt and, at the same time, guilty. Like I had done something wrong for feeling this way about him. That I was a bad person for allowing myself to blur such simple lines of authority with a man who was obviously going to be married. It was a stupid and pathetic thing to feel, but whenever that doubt made me question if it was me—if I truly was just some dumb jock he didn't care about—I couldn't help but cry.

But like an unstoppable force, morning came, and I had only nodded off thirty minutes before my alarm. I sat there on the edge of my bed for a while, thinking about going to school—if only to prove to my History teacher that he didn't affect me. Knowing full well that I didn't think I could face him just yet. So I made up a lie about feeling sick and stayed home. My father not pressing me too much about it—probably because he knew something bad had happened.

I slept off and on like that, dreams coming and going in tiny fragments which ceased to make sense. Until I found myself wandering around in a dreamworld that was so unlike reality—so much better, actually, because at least in dreams he was still there—that my mind couldn't believe it. I woke close to noon, feeling for the first time, the full weight of everything.

There had to be a solution I was missing—that both of us were missing. But short of going back into the past and changing the circumstances under which we met, the answer still evaded me. After a while, I tried to shut my eyes again, but this time only proved more difficult. The hurt on James's face burned into the darkness behind my eyelids, until I could no longer deny it. The almost-pleading tone of him telling me he didn't want it to be goodbye resonated in my ears—until I wondered if I was being an idiot for questioning if he ever really cared.

He had to have cared, didn't he?

I got up and showered, if only to wash away some of the turmoil from my soul. And when that didn't do, I dressed and went for a walk. Trying to think of a way to organize my thoughts. And when I had rounded our block twice and it still seemed that nothing would do, an instinct brought me back to the house. Back to my room.

Where, as if on autopilot, I just sat down at my laptop and started typing.

***

He's not at school today.

James Monaco hadn't been certain at first—he found made-up reasons to wander the halls in between classes scoping the student crowds for Dominic—but by the time all the students took their seats in Dominic's History class, he was certain. And while perhaps it had been best—

no, easier,

his mind corrected—for him to give his lesson that way, something about that empty chair made him feel worse. It sat there, vacant of its temporary owner, judging him. Reminding him that, while he might have been able to get forty-five minutes of sleep and put himself together enough to look like everything was alright, that something was still off. That things had changed which would forever be impossible to change back.

His words broke and jumbled all lesson as he couldn't stop looking at that empty desk. And like a ripple, the feeling only carried over into the remaining classes he taught the rest of the day. Until, by the time he finally got home from work, James needed a drink.

It wasn't often that he engaged with hard liquor, but this day, he made an exception. After making himself a double of Jack and coke, he sat on the sofa in the fading daylight and confided his mixed feelings to the only being he thought wouldn't judge him—Toby. But it seemed the more he talked to the little feline, James noticed Toby looking toward the door. Perhaps a sign he was waiting for Dominic to arrive.

You'll be waiting a hell of a long time, old boy.

James took a sip of his drink before continuing, "Anyway, as I was saying, perhaps the worst part of it was that...maybe he was right."

Toby, perched on the coffee table atop a thick paper envelope of photographs, craned his head. Eyes wide as if he were surprised.

"Not about everything—don't look so shocked." James laughed and clinked the ice in his glass around a little to see the dark medicine swirl. "I just mean... Maybe he wasn't exactly wrong about the photography business."

The cat stared—imploring him to go on.

"Some of my happiest moments were behind the camera, old boy." James swigged some more alcohol, relishing in the burning aftertaste that chased the coca cola.

Toby peered down at the thick envelope under his front paws, then back at his owner. As James set his glass on the coffee table, the cat rolled onto his side and nudged the envelope a little with one paw.

"Is that you asking me to show you?" James laughed and scratched a little at Toby's stomach with a few fingers.

Toby only purred, rolling a little onto his back to playfully bat at his owner's hand. Once the hand withdrew, the fuzzy animal rolled back onto his side, and his body nudged at the envelope again.

"Alright, show and tell it is..." James sighed. He petted Toby a little behind the ears before retrieving the envelope from the table top. He took out the thick stack of photographs and started slowly flipping through them. "Alright...we have here my trip to Baltimore two years ago. We have the inner harbor..."

The cat gazed at the photographs James held up to show him. The first two captured some of the buildings in grayscale. The next four focused on tourists crowding around the center.

"Let's see... The next few here look like Fort McHenry. A nice little shot of Caroline here..." He held up more photos for Toby to see—some detailed landscapes capturing black cannons aimed towards the blue waters.

Toby yawned.

"And...shit. I guess these aren't all Baltimore." He held up the next one; it was one of Dominic laughing as he stirred something on the stove. Just behind him and partially obscured, James stood with a wide grin on his face—his arm around his student to get a picture of both of them together.

He showed Toby, who purred.

James went through the next few. These were all from the same night; he could tell by the clothing they were wearing. The next two showed Dominic still standing beside the stove in black and white. His eyes were filled with a gleam that gave his face a thoughtful expression. His lips were in a slight half-smile, and James would have given anything to be able to ask Dom at that moment what he was thinking.

"I'll never know, I guess." He whispered. James sat back—no longer caring to show the photographs to Toby as he flipped through them. He knew what the rest of this envelope would be. They were all of he and Dom together. His eyes traced the lines of every frozen moment, his brain on automatic replay with every second until he could no longer be certain how they had gone from such happiness to despair. Then, when he finished, reality came back to him, and he remembered.

It was over now.

***

It was another night where sleep evaded James Monaco. He tossed and turned, but it was no use. Whenever he closed his eyes, the happiness of the photographs he'd taken were burned into the darkness behind his eyelids keeping him awake. And when he'd reposition himself to nuzzle his pillows just a little harder to force himself into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness, traces of Dom's body spray were still in the fabric. Not nearly enough to make him feel like he was there but just enough for James to understand that someone was missing from his bed.

So he finally let go and lay in the dark, where he found it was safe for him to admit something else that was bothering him, if only to stop thinking about Dominic. When he thought back to the night he'd last enjoyed his time with his student, a physical line had been crossed within him that he had never expected. As much as he knew he'd enjoyed all they had done together, it had been easy for him to think himself as straight because James had respected that line. Now, he only thought himself an asshole for not seeing that line hadn't meant anything at all. That maybe he wasn't as straight as he wanted to be.

There was only one way to check, he thought. With his breath unsteady, he turned on his back and slipped his hands under the covers. The dark room was quiet around him. James didn't even think Toby was around to witness anything. He was safe to test the extent of his sexual interests; no one would ever know unless he told them.

His right was the first to find the waistband of his underwear. Carefully, one thumb hooked inside it and drug it down his hip. Then his left hand did the same with the other side, and he had to scoot himself up to get them down below his balls. His cock was already hardening, knowing what he was about to do. And when his underwear was finally around his ankles where he could kick it off the rest of the way, the tip of his dick was twitching against the sheets.

James couldn't help but feel naughty. He'd pleasured himself hundreds of times since he'd first figured out how to make himself cum as a pre-teen, and he was an adult with an apartment and locked door. But this felt different. Lying there in the dark—knowing he would soon do something that he'd grown up thinking straight men don't do—felt so taboo he might as well have been an eighteen-year-old trying to release a little tension long after Mom and Dad had gone to bed.

His right hand wrapped around his growing erection. His thumb rubbed the sensitive tip, coaxing some precum from the slit, and his efforts were met with another twitch. Feeling himself fill with blood, he slowly glided his right hand up and down. Starting to masturbate.

James's cock was rock hard now. His mind preparing himself for the next part, his body already hot and tingling with anticipation. This was so fucked up. And so wrong. But he had enjoyed it once, hadn't he? If he enjoyed it again, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

His hand worked faster, and his pelvis flexed chasing the stimulation as all his nerve endings wound tension in him. It felt so fucking good, he thought, like it always did. And somehow, feeling his cock in his hand felt good.

Then, for the first time in his life, James Monaco closed his eyes and started masturbating while thinking about other men. He started with the guys he'd seen in the locker room when he was in high school. Ken Phillips had been one of them James had seen change regularly because their lockers were right next to each other. And when James was in high school, Ken had no hang ups about showing off his body.

He was a short guy but had a decent amount of muscle with a light dusting of blonde hair on his tight ass. His girlfriend was in the marching band, whenever they made out in the hallways in between classes, James couldn't help but notice her hands were always gripping his tight bubble. James had seen that tight ass framed in nothing more than a jockstrap on a few occasions. What would have happened if he had just reached out and copped a feel?

James fell deeper into his fantasies, trying to picture what Ken might have done. How that trail of hair on his crack would have felt to the touch if he had been able to run his index finger across it. What it would have smelled like if he could have stuck his face there. Maybe even what sounds Ken might have made if James had parted those athletic cheeks and dove in with his tongue. And....

Fuck, this was hot.

But the more he tried to picture what he remembered Ken looked like in high school, the more James found his mental image slowly changing. The lines and details blurring and unblurring until the man he was picturing was Dominic. And his wonderment of what if's was turning into solid memory of what it was like kissing, rimming, and fucking him.

His cock was leaking precum down his shaft and all over the top sheet with every movement. And suddenly, Ken didn't exist at all. Had never existed as more than a typical curious teenage boy stare. Dominic was real. And suddenly, they were together in the dark, exploring each other in ways no straight men could ever explore and still be straight.

That's when James finally gathered the courage to put his other hand to work. He started by lightly touching his balls, caressing them and petting the thick pubic hair around his cock with his thumb. Then moving lower to where he'd been planning to go all along. His index finger tracing his sensitive perineum just behind his sac, following the line of hair there to his own ass. Nearing the line of no return Dominic had crossed to pleasure him only a short time ago.

It was a tough angle with his index finger. But with his middle finger—curved like a downward hook—he was able to hit the mark right on. His fingertip hit the hole like a bullseye, and a quiver ran up his spine. He traced the indentation again, rubbing it a little lighter, and sighed as the electric feel came over him again.

His mind wandered. The figure of Dom was now full-frontal—revealing the cock that James had sucked numerous times during their trysts. And while his mouth watered, it wasn't because he could remember the feel of its girth sliding into his mouth or the salted taste of the precum.

No. His mouth was dry with anticipation, wanting to ask a question James never imagined a straight man would vocalize. His mouth opened, breathing a little heavier, as his finger prodded deeper into his crevice. Until, finally, the folds of skin parted and he was able to gently ease his fingertip inside himself. Going slow to minimize the burning sensation as his hole clenched against the invader.

With his cock momentarily forgotten, James paused off and on in his fingering. Trying to work a little more of his finger in at a time. And when it seemed like it just wasn't doing the trick, he reached for the tube of lube in the nightstand drawer and rubbed a little on the finger. Then James worked a little more into his tight button, aware of how much he was clenching and unclenching when the cold lube was dabbled on.

Then he tried again, and this time, it was easier. His finger eased in up to the second knuckle. Far enough that he could now feel the warmth of his insides. His mind associating them so closely with the feel of Dom's when he fingered him. But when he went a little further, James touched something that shattered any thoughts of being on top and fucking an ass.

It was a hard, round, nub. And the moment he touched, his back tingled with such excitement that his ass clenched around his finger. His cock twitched in his other hand, and when he stroked it, James discovered that there were fresh droplets of precum oozing out of the tip. He touched it again, this time rubbing it a little. And when his finger stroked the forbidden pleasure button, he couldn't help but moan.

No, this wasn't at all what straight men did. But maybe he wasn't so straight at all. Maybe he was just gay enough to speak that question his dry mouth had been wanting to ask Dom in his fantasy. Alone in the dark, he touched that button again. And again, that euphoria spread through him like warm, liquid butter, and his breath hitched. His cock twitching as he stroked it more, feeling the pressure building within him.

"Yeah...right there..." James's voice was a whisper. "Right..."

More stroking. More rubbing the magic button. And suddenly, the electricity was pulsing up the shaft of his dick. Making the tip of him throb with more precum as he experienced what he could only imagine Dom had experienced multiple times. His mind a blur; he thought about that question again. Although, now the wording of it resembled more of a plead. But did that fucking matter? Rubbing that button, he'd practically call Caroline and confess how gay he was if only it meant getting just one more precious second of euphoria. He'd call Dom next and propose and take him out first thing in the morning to shop for China patterns and gay flags and...

"Fuck me, Dom!" He finally shouted when the desire to say it finally got too much. "Pleeeeease......f—fuck meeeee."

And he came. It came on so suddenly that he couldn't stop it. Nor did he want to. And when the orgasm came, it was an explosion. His mouth hanging open as the head of his dick pulsed and launched missiles of cum all over his hairy body. And then, as he lay spattered—the euphoria enveloping him—it all hit home in his brain. For the first time in his life, James Monaco came from fingering himself. And maybe he wasn't as straight as he thought.

He lay there in the dark, panting as he withdrew his finger. And as the silence descended again on the darkness, James felt more alone than ever. Because, while he enjoyed himself, the man he'd fantasized about would never be able to make him feel those things anymore. Dom was gone, thanks to James's ridiculous circumstances.