|"But I'm the Captain of the Football Team"
Disclaimer: Although I’d rather own Kyle and Max, all I own are my words.
Summary: Kyle’s thoughts after being healed by Max.
Authors Note: Special thanks to Jenn, Debbie, Nick, and Melody. You guys all helped a lot!
|This thing with Max Evans was weird. Really weird. Weird in a totally fucked up way. And I
don’t just mean the whole I’m-an-alien-and-I-healed-you thing. Ok, well that was pretty fucked
up. Yeah, that was definitely weird. That was the blow your mind weird. Like, Holy shit, he’s
*really* an alien. Even more holy shit- I had a *bullet* in me and he made it *go away*. So
that was the really fucked up stuff.
But there was something else too. Something that was keeping me up at night. Thoughts about all sorts of things I didn’t want to think about. Thoughts about Max, thoughts about myself, and maybe worst of all…memories.
Rich Wilson and I were best friends. It made sense…Rich was a really cool guy and we were on all the teams together, football, basketball, wrestling. He was good…we were both good…the best We were co-captains of the wrestling team. He was in a different weight class, but we always would wrestle for fun. He was a lot bigger than I was, taller and heavier, but in great shape. Even though I was quicker he could usually pin me pretty easily, but every now and again I would beat him. We hung out all the time just doing guy stuff, wrestling, playing basketball…we were an awesome two-on-two team, I had the point and the outside shot, he had the interior game and rebounding. We could kick anyone’s ass at school. Anyway, all of us guys from the team would go out for pizza all the time, but it was still always me and Rich. He was my sidekick…or maybe I was his…whatever.
Anyway. It had been a typical night of hanging out with all the guys. Rich and I went back to my place to hang. He was going to spend the night. Also pretty typical. His dad had to be up super early for work, so anytime we were hanging out late, Rich was spending the night. Which was cool. Anyway, we were pretty wired. We’d watched ESPN and MTV for awhile and were just bullshitting, not doing much, so I hoped we’d wrestle. Wrestling with Rich was fun. It was like a game. It was competitive but friendly. We’d usually end up laughing our asses off at all the crazy stunts I’d try to pull to keep him from pinning me. It was fun, so I hoped we’d wrestle.
And we did. I was being even more cunning than usual. We were laughing even as we wrestled. I slipped out of a hold and he yelled, “Oh, you little shit!” I laughed and called back, “Yeah, bring it on fat ass!” I was breathing hard, but he was breathing harder. If I could avoid his pin for a little longer I knew he’d tire out and I could win. That thought excited me and I licked my lips in anticipation of his demise. He grabbed at me then and tossed my ass to the ground in one flick. I tried to scramble away but he quickly pounced. I wrestled underneath him trying to get away, but his hold was strong.
He collapsed on top of me exhausted. He still had me in the hold as he rested his head on my chest, us both panting. I was tired, yeah, but I was also…excited. And I don’t just mean mentally, I mean physically. Sometimes that just happened. Like the competition excited me or something. It was pretty fucking embarrassing…laying there with your best friend praying that he doesn’t notice that you have a hard-on…wishing you were wearing jeans or something instead of the flimsy lacrosse shorts you’ve got on. Shit. I knew he was totally going to notice. I tried to slow my breathing and will it to go back to rest. It would not behave.
He turned his head and looked up at me. He didn’t say anything. Had he seen? I couldn’t read his face at all, so I tried to make mine equally unreadable, trying not to give away my embarrassment in case he hadn’t noticed. I didn’t say anything, just returned his look.
He turned his head back away without saying a word. He must’ve seen. Jesus, he *had* to have, I was practically pitching a tent down there. I was starting to panic, wondering what he’d think and how I could explain. I felt his hold on me loosen as he moved the hand that was underneath me. I took that to mean he had noticed and was trying to get away from me in disgust. Well, I was right on one count.
He pulled his hand from under me and let it rest over the lump in my shorts. A jolt shot through me at his touch. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Oh man, he just put his hand on my dick! I struggled not to catch my breath, I just kept looking up and clenched my jaw, I’m not sure why, but I wanted to show nothing. He turned his head back to look at me to see my reaction. My face was expressionless, but my thumping heart gave my excitement away. Damn it, what was going on with me? I swear I had never thought about Rich, NEVER. But you wouldn’t know it from the way my body was responding to his nearness.
He started to run his hand over me, and I could feel my body responding, swelling to his touch. I willed my thoughts quiet. I just stopped thinking. Because the truth was I didn’t know what I was thinking. Did I want him to keep going? No!…Yes…no…I didn’t know. Did I want him to stop? Yes!…no…I didn’t know. Shut up Kyle, you’re being an idiot, a voice in my head screamed at me. Just shut up! So I did. I made my mind totally blank, I just focused on my breathing, on keeping it steady and even.
Rich had been sort of gentle and tentative, as if he were exploring an unknown and foreign object. When he felt how hard his light rubbing had made me, he wrapped his hand around it with just the right amount of force to make me have to swallow hard as my heart thumped. He could feel my reaction and took this as a sign that I was enjoying his touch and wanted more. I’m not sure whether I did or not.
He slid his hand under the elastic of my shorts. For all my trying to control my breathing, I still caught my breath a little. Holy shit, he was really going to touch it. He was going to put his bare hand on my dick. Holy shit. Why didn’t I stop him?? But I didn’t. I just closed my eyelids tight as his hand grasped at me. Oh, it felt fucking good. No! Shit, I wasn’t supposed to be thinking that. Oh, but god damn…his hands… No don’t think about it. My mind could try to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary, but my body knew better. I was starting to become a sticky mess in my excitement.
He changed his position to get a better angle at me but also to bring his crotch closer to me. I could feel him pressing against my arm, as hard as I was. I could have reached out and touched him. I would have barely had to move. I wanted to touch him, to put my hands on him, to feel how hard he was and to know that I had made him that way. What the fuck? No, shouted a voice in my head, you can’t fucking touch him, what is wrong with you?? *Don’t* touch him! Oh, but I wanted to so bad. I pretended to need to move my arm a bit so it would rub against him. I knew that was the real reason I moved my arm, but I told myself that I had an itch and I really did have to move my arm. I knew he liked it. I could feel him press himself against me more when I did that. I liked that I had made him excited, so I continued to itch my side, knowing full well that my arm was rubbing against him in the process. I liked rubbing against him…I wanted to touch him…Why didn’t I just reach out my hand? I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As fucked up as this whole thing was. What did it matter at this point if I touched it? I mean, for god’s sake he was stroking me off down there, what’s the damn difference if I touched it? The damn difference is is that *you* don’t touch guys, maybe that’s what Rich did, but you are not gonna touch it, got that Kyle? You are not a fag, got it Kyle, the voice in my head yelled at me. Yeah, I got it.
But in the meantime, Rich was touching me in all the right spots and all the right ways down there. I was staying in control though, I really was. I was excited to say the least but I was holding back, trying not to focus on the pleasure Rich was giving me. I focused instead on my “itch”. But, suddenly Rich changed positions, moving his hardness away from my arm. I stopped mid-scratch, sorry that the pressure had moved away from my arm. No, it’s a good thing, you don’t want to feel him all up on you anyway, the voice said. I had clenched both fists in an attempt to stay in control. Rich took one of them now with his free hand and guided it to his body. Oh shit. I could have pulled my hand away. I could’ve. But I didn’t. He put my hand right on top of his dick. When I felt it, my insides turned, flames shot through me, touching him was so exciting. I squinted my eyes shut even tighter. What the hell are you doing, pull your hand away. I started to pull back a little, but he gently closed his hand over mine to keep it there. My breathing had definitely increased, I couldn’t focus on it anymore. There was just too much to think about. There was his working on me, and my hand touching him…how could I concentrate on my breathing? And then there was another sensory input…his lips on mine…his tongue trying to pry open my pursed lips.
My body was threatening to go into complete spasm at this. I was definitely at the peak of my excitement. My head was screaming No no no, but I yelled back Shut up, just shut up already! I wanted it. It was just so intense. So, I stopped thinking and resisting and let my lips part to let his tongue in and taste his saltiness. I could feel my insides tightening, I was on the brink. I hungrily kissed him back until my excitement peaked and I came all over my shorts.
Spent, I pulled away, gasping a bit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. That’s all I could think. It had felt so good. It was so good. Rich…
Holy shit. I couldn’t believe what we had just done. Rich was my best friend. I had let him touch me and jerk me off. Then I realized that my hand was still resting on him. I quickly pulled it away. I didn’t want to feel his excitement. I couldn’t believe I touched him. I touched him. I touched his penis. I had kissed him, no he kissed me…no I definitely kissed him back. He had made me touch him…no, I wanted it. He had forced me to let him touch me…no, no I had wanted that too. Jesus. What did that mean? What did that make me? I quickly got to my feet, not sure what to say or do, but looking everywhere but at him. My face was hot. Oh my god, what if he told people? Ok, that was just dumb, that wouldn’t be good for him either. I wasn’t sure what exactly to Oh my god about, but that’s what was running through my head.
He got up and stood in front of me. I averted my eyes. I heard him huskily say, “Kyle,” but I still refused to look at him. I couldn’t, I couldn’t. He reached out a hand and tipped my chin up and bent down to kiss me gently. His lips touched mine softly and I could taste him a little again and oh it was a nice taste and part of me wanted to kiss him back. But the rest of me pulled away from him and roughly wiped my mouth. I looked at him then and saw the hurt in his eyes as he shook his head. I felt so bad. This was my best friend. Love was too strong a word, but I liked him better than anyone, and I cared a lot about him. I wanted to tell him that it was ok, that it was going to be ok. I wanted to reach out and put my hand on his arm to show that we were ok. But I couldn’t. I didn’t do anything. Well, I did one thing…I turned my back…
That was eighth grade. Rich had gone to a different high school and probably stopped wrestling…I had never seen him at any meets or counties or anything. That night was pretty much the end of our friendship. I told my dad we had fought over a girl. I felt bad when I saw him in school, but not bad enough to go talk to him. He didn’t come and talk to me either. I threw myself into being a macho-man…the next week at school I had asked out Caryn Mace, who had liked me all year. By the time we were in high school, I had managed to put the whole incident out of my mind, I pretended that it never happened, and I started to believe that, and so I just sort of…forgot all about that night.
I hadn’t thought about it in two years, but since Max Evans saved me, I’ve thought about it a lot. Why? I couldn’t get the picture of Rich’s sad eyes out of my head. I knew I hurt him really bad that night. He was never really the same after that night. I thought about the whole situation again and wondered at my feelings for Rich. Maybe I had wanted it. Maybe I hadn’t. After all these years, I still didn’t know. But I did know that I felt really bad about the whole thing, and that if I could do it all again I would have said something to Rich. It was funny, because about a week ago, if I had thought about Rich Wilson I would have been so embarrassed and would have denied any participation at all and said I didn’t care about Rich or what happened to him. But all that had changed. Why? Max Evans had changed me.
This thing with Max Evans was really weird. I felt so different now. It was weird. These days I was either thinking about Max or remembering Rich. Neither of which I wanted to do. I didn’t want to think about Max at all. It was too weird. Weird that he was an alien. Weird that he had healed me. And weirdest of all was how he had looked at me when he was done. His eyes bored right into mine and he had this expression on his face. What the hell was he thinking? I had no idea. I didn’t want to think about it. Something in his eyes reminded me of Rich, the way Rich had looked at me before he touched me. And that was what I kept picturing. Max’s eyes. I imagined that he had been thinking the same thing that Rich had been thinking, that he wanted me. I wanted to stop thinking that, because I knew what thinking that was called…fantasizing. I was freaking fantasizing about Max Evans. What the hell was wrong with me? I wanted to deny what I was thinking but I couldn’t really. I knew why I was thinking about Rich. I was fantasizing that Max would do to me what Rich had done. I had played it all out in my mind. He healed me and stared into my eyes…then he would pull me to my feet and grab me close to him, pushing his mouth to mine, while his hands travelled south. I usually got that far into my fantasizing before my mind snapped me out of it, with a What the fuck Kyle, what are you fucking thinking?? And angry at myself because I was actually getting excited by the thought.
I couldn’t take this shit. I didn’t want to be thinking about Max. But I couldn’t stop. I was starting to think I was going crazy. I was driving myself crazy. I hated myself for everything. For messing around with Rich, for hurting him, and for having thoughts about Max. I wished I could erase them all. I didn’t want to think these things. I didn’t want to think about what the thing with Rich and this newest obsession about Max meant about me. I decided instead to try and dismiss it, saying it was only natural to be thinking about Max, he had saved my life after all! That was the only way I could go to sleep at night, telling myself that this was all natural. And the thing with Rich, well that was in the past, and it was just now coming to my conscience. I vowed to try to get in touch with Rich to apologize to him. I figured that that would get rid of my thoughts of Rich, and I could brush off the thoughts of Max as some post-traumatic-shock-syndrome thing. And then I could just be normal again and stop torturing myself every night.
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