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previous:Pause and Effect

Seven: He needed to repeat some well-used mantra of love just one more time



I found that dirty picture of us the other night when I was looking to see if I'd packed any extra razors in my gym bag. I found it tucked inside the pocket, forgotten. I don't know how, Frankie or Ryan must have put it there after the party a month-or-so ago.

Ryan was furious when Frankie took it and threatened him; Frank gave it up pretty quickly. I'm just surprised that Ryan didn't burn it when we got home. He must have forgotten about it after he calmed down. Maybe he was just too drunk to remember it at all - that's most likely it.

Anyway, in May, Frankie threw a pool party and we met a group of friends at his place. It's strange, I haven't talked to Frank in over a month, I should because I'm certain he asked Ryan where I went and what happened. Ryan probably lied through his teeth.

Frankie expected Ryan to just vanish. He waited for us to break up for about six months. He liked me a lot - he may have loved me - I'm not sure. I should never have slept with him but he was just this great guy and we were good friends - I just wanted to.

He never made it an issue of Ryan, Frank invited us out and that was great. I know he detested him but he still treated him like a friend and never tried to make him feel like an intruder.

I know most of my friends put up with Ryan for my sake and I hate that sometimes.

Anyway, that last party at Frankie's started off really nice. We both took off work that Friday and Ryan was excited and happy.  He chattered excitedly as I packed our towels and trunks into my gym bag with his cigarettes and some extra clothes.

Ryan tucked a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka under the beach towels. "Can't fuckin' forget these."

We both found Frank's constant use of profanity in general conversation amusing and our language degraded to an almost constant flow of swear words when we mocked him. "You fucking, cunt-faced, dick-sucking piece of shit" Was usually the bottom rung on that particular linguistic ladder and it left us giggling madly when we got to that point.

"And this motherfucker..." He tucked in a bowl and a baggie of pot stuffed in a plastic, 35mm film case.

I laughed. Ryan kissed me.

Frank met us in the driveway with frozen margaritas in each hand as we got out of the car. They were toxic, pink, frothy mixes in tall tumblers with wide, blue umbrellas.

He wore a pair of long, bright red swim trunks and flip-flops. His bare skin was deeply tanned and his shoulders were a little pink. I've always liked thin, lanky guys and Frank was very much that type. He had buzz cut, blue-black hair that looked fantastic and always hid his green eyes behind these 80's style wayfarer sunglasses - somehow they worked for him. He wore this old, Polaroid camera around his neck and he held it to his eye and snapped a picture of the two of us and our drinks. He grinned as he plucked the photograph from the camera.

"Drink your fuckin' drinks, fags." He kissed Ryan's cheek, kissed my mouth, took our bag and shuffled us inside. "Everyone's out back so hurry up and get changed, boys."

He led us to the guest room and tossed the bag on the bed. "And fuckin' hurry, Jamie and Sheila called just before you fuckers drove up, so they'll be here any goddamn minute. The last thing I want to see is that fucking hag change in public again. She always wants to show off those tits and no one here's interested." He stopped at the door and pointed sternly at them. "And you two... this room is for changing, goddamn it, for everyone. So don't fuck around in here - at least not before the party starts." He closed the door behind him.

I felt a little dizzy. Frank was like a whirlwind in the way he delivered information and I felt the old familiar attraction to him in that moment.

Ryan studied me with this odd, sly expression on his face. "Well, I guess we’ve been properly admonished." He said. "Can he get any bossier?" He set his drink on the nightstand.

I followed his lead and sat mine on the dresser before unzipping the gym bag and rummaging through to get our suits and towels. I didn't comment on Frankie because I knew, if I tried defending him, Ryan would start a argument. I pulled off my shirt, stuffed it in the bag and turned. Ryan stood there naked.

I agreed with Frank in theory. I mean, yes, it would be pretty rude to occupy this room for a long time as his guests arrived. Hell, I thought it was pretty rude when we screwed in this room three weeks before- at his "Too drunk to fuck" party- which we proved, quite successfully, that we weren't. We locked everyone out for the rest of the night. That was rude.

I guess I should have figured that Ryan would use Frank's insistence as carte blanche to do just the opposite. He pushed me to the bed and tugged my open shorts down so I stood there in my underwear. His mouth was on mine and he moved forward, pushed me down on the bed and forced himself on top of me. He was always so fucking rough; the hornier he got the more graceless and animal he became. He straddled me and ground his hardening dick against my crotch as he kissed me.

Frank waited for the first sound of activity and banged on the door and rattled the doorknob as soon as the bed creaked under our collective weight. "I'm not joking mother fuckers! I was not giving suggestions or inviting you to buttfuck on my guest bed - change your goddamn clothes and get out to the pool."

Ryan stopped moving and grinned down at me, he propped himself up on his hands and I looked up at him. Breathing into my face he kissed me again and ground his dick against mine. "I doubt if this will take too long."

"I don't want to do this now, Ryan, stop.." I tried pushing him and he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head, pinning me.

"We've done it at worse times than this." He kissed me down the underside of my chin, paused when his lips had reached my throat and looked up at me. "Please?"

I stared up at the ceiling trying to decide if I should let him have his way. This was how he always started when I said no - the hard part was that I always loved it when he said please... he said it so rarely.

He kept moving his hips against me then glanced down at to our crotches as he held my wrists. "You obviously want this too." He had no intention of stopping and, I admit, it felt amazing. "Yea," he said. "Would this be that bad of an idea?" He let go of my wrists and, sliding down me to the edge of the bed, his knees on the floor and his hands running down my sides, pulled my underwear to my knees, positioning his face at my crotch. He leaned forward. "Frankie'll get over it."

I tore his hands off me and shifted as I sat forward and turned to the side. He was insistent and fought me, laughing and grabbing my ass with both hands. "Ryan... damn it, stop... Ryan..." I untangled from him as I tried to stand. "Get off me!" I twisted, pushing him and standing with my underwear at my knees.

He laughed and reclined against the side of the bed.

I pulled my underwear back up over my hard-on and snatched our suits off the bed - red faced and horny - threw Ryan's trunks at his face.

I glared at him as he stood, still laughing but found myself eventually grinning despite my frustration - touching him always felt good, no matter how infuriating he was. I turned away and changed out of my underwear and into my swimsuit; both of us smirking in that charged silence.

He placed the palm of his hand against the bare skin at the small of my back, while I struggled to pull up the tight nylon trunks and pushed me over onto the bed. I fell across it but was able to get the trunks to my waist before his grasping hand pulled them down again. He didn’t have any intention to help me regain my composure without his specific assistance. Ryan enjoyed sex in odd, open or dangerous places... or dangerous sex period.

But this wasn't about danger. It was about Frankie and his insistence that we abide by his request. Ryan knew enough about my past with Frankie and always seemed jealous of the remaining friendship. Frankie's admonition was the only reason he needed.

"I love the way you look in Speedos." He came around me again as I righted myself off the bed and turned. He was still naked and standing before me, rubbing his hand across the front of my trunks. "Especially like that."

"You're a fucking prick." I shoved him back, forced his hands away. "I really don't want to piss Frankie off, OK, Ryan?" I stepped back and he waited, the playfulness fading out of his eyes. "Please, back off."

He stood there naked and shrugged.

I stared at him for a moment - he was too fucking beautiful. He should never wear clothes.

I pushed past him into the guest room's bathroom, just off to the left, locked the door behind me and hoped I could calm myself down enough to be able to face everyone at the pool without a fucking boner. I had no choice where Ryan and sex were concerned, he was either this inevitable enveloping force or he was this distant creature - either way my body wouldn't stop wanting him and I had to give in.

He rattled the knob. "Oh, come on, Jacob, open it. It'll take five minutes." He called softly through the door. "Open the door. I know you want to...You can fuck me right there on the floor."

I ran some water and splashed it over my face, then looked in the mirror at my wet skin and dripping eyelashes. My entire body pulsed from him; wanting him was some kind of pavlovian reaction. He rang the bell and I salivated - the blood pounded so hard I could feel pressure at the base of my throat and ears as if his fingers pressed on my skin. I loved that pounding, that insistent feeling; no one made me feel that way but him.

I grabbed the pastel hand towel, dried my face and recoiled when I realized how frou-frou the bathroom looked. It was lavender and pink with white highlights. It looked like something out of a little girl's dollhouse.

Frankie needed to stop watching Christopher Lowell.

"Did you see this bathroom?" I said, shocked, taking in the frills around the window and the tiny lavender accents in the faux marble sink. "I mean... geezus."

"I always forget it's here. First time we were here we thought it was a closet, remember?" Ryan sounded as of he were speaking into the doorframe. "You're not going to try and take care of that thing yourself, are you?"

I rolled my eyes back toward the door. "What?"

"Cause if you are, I'd really like to watch - or help."

"Goddamn it, Ryan, will you just shut the fuck up?" I stared down at the light pink toilet and decided I might as well take a piss. "Anyway," I said a little louder over the piss stream. "It's too girly in here. I can't fuck anywhere that reminds me so much of porcelain dolls or little girls. Just pissing in here makes me feel like a goddamn pedophile - it gives me the creeps." I leaned forward and touched some of the potpourri in the basket on the back of the toilet. "Was it always like this?"

"I don't know, I didn't notice. But who cares, I can fuck anywhere..."

"No kidding." I mumbled under my breath. I fixed my trunks and flushed.

He continued. "... I fucked some guy in the church bathroom at my grandmother's funeral. I don't think there's any place I couldn't fuck."

I didn't reply. I'd heard that story about twenty times and was tired of expressing my distaste for that disrespect. I wondered when he would tire of bragging about that sordid tidbit.

I leaned over to the window and looked out. Through the lavender curtains I could see Jeanine, Allie and Gil drinking some of Frank's margaritas. Gil was singing along with a CD of the Gorillaz singing "Clint Eastwood" and making elaborate gestures with his drink.

"Jacob?" He knocked on the door and I turned and adjusted myself; the pissing helped reduce my erection. "Come on... I promise that I'll be good. I'll stop."

He was lying. I knew it but it didn't matter. I'd made the mistake of going into the bathroom and there wasn't any other exit except that window. I didn't think this situation required such a drastic escape.

Everyone knew that Ryan loved embarrassing the shit out of me and, while I didn't want to go outside with a bulge in my Speedos, it wasn't as if Frank and company hadn't seen me naked or aroused before. Hell, Frank and I had fucked enough times so that wasn't exactly an issue.

"Fine." I opened the door.

Ryan stepped back from the door wearing his blue, almost knee-length trunks.

I was relieved but still pissed.

I looked him up and down, approving the fact that he'd taken the initiative to put on his trunks. "Thank you." I picked up the rest of our clothes and shoved them in the bag and draped the towels over my shoulder. I went to open the door when he grabbed my arm, spun me, pressed forward, his hands on my shoulders and forced my back against the door. He pulled the towels off my shoulder and met me eye to eye - practically stepping on my feet. I tried rolling my eyes upwards in impatience but he didn't move and I ended up looking back at him.

I always loved the fact that he was taller than me. There was something about looking up into his eyes that made it impossible for me to look away.

When we first met he kept doing that, standing close and in my face and smiling hungrily. That day, on the side of the road, I realized I never desired any one person more in my life. When Ryan did that, it was as if he pulled the air right out of my lungs. The whole thing left me gasping.

"I love you." He said. I could feel the air that made those words on my face and my head felt light. "I can never get enough of you." He put his fingers on my forehead, traced my hairline up and then curled down the back of my head with both hands. I broke out in goosebumps.

I hated when he did shit like that - I didn't know how to fight it. He always rang those words out like a bell; it was that closeness, his eyes and his words, his breath on my face. It did the same thing to me. I wanted to do anything with him, for him, to him. I wanted to give him anything I had - my fucking soul. He turned my rejection into compliance in a heartbeat and I salivated.

"Fuck me." He said.

Frankie might tell us to leave but I honestly didn't give a shit. Frankie didn't matter; if he threw us out before we finished I'd make Ryan pull the car over or just blow him while he drove back home. I was right there with him and I wanted to give him anything, whatever he wanted.

I stared at his dark brown eyes. "OK." The words were distant and hazy to me. I placed my hands on his sides and pulled him against me.

He grinned wide and held me back. "Well, maybe we shouldn't after all, Jacob. I mean, I was only kidding, really." He left his hand on my shoulder. "I don't think we should piss off Frankie."

I stood gaping at him. "What?"

He pulled my head forward with both hands and kissed me as he whispered. "Why don't we let everyone get a little drunk and sneak back in here in a couple of hours? I'm sure Frankie will be cool with it then." He was as close to me as he could without actually touching me with the rest of his body.

I could feel his chest and stomach brush me briefly here and there as we breathed in and out. I looked back up at him feeling my face flush red at this sudden change.

"What the hell?" I asked. "Why did you do that? You realize that I'm not going to be able to carry on a single conversation today. I'm not going to be able to think of anything else except this." I felt awkward at my conflict. "Damn it, Ryan, make up your fucking mind. Don't you ever do that to me again." I pushed myself out from the door against him to make space between us and then put my flat hand against his bare chest and forced him an arm's length back from me.

His skin was warm, he was smiling and I was hearing the sound of my voice saying "OK".

"You're an asshole." I self consciously covered the shrinking bulge in my trunks.

He grinned wide, so fucking pleased with himself - my god, he was fucking beautiful. God, I loved him... so much it hurt.

"I was only kidding, Jacob, quit being such a girl." He kissed me playfully again and grabbed the bag and the towels off the floor. "We'll come back in a little while. You can wait that long, can't you? You slut. You knew I wasn't serious." He laughed.

I just turned and opened the door in silence, blinking back tears and thinking that I had to put on a good face for Frankie and everyone at the party. Ryan's hand stroked the back of my neck as if he wanted to reassure me that he loved me despite me being an idiot.

Maybe I wanted to bite him. I didn't know what I wanted but I knew then what he had wanted.

My erection shriveled with my ego. The blood at the base of my throat and ears, as if his fingers pressed on my skin, was that humiliation. I had that pounding, that insistent feeling and no one made me feel that way but him.

next:Describing Love in Dirty Pictures

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