Archive of Our Own ^beta

Nate Jacobs is not a faggot.

But sometimes he closes his eyes and imagines what it would be like to sit on another guy’s lap, play with his hair, hold his hand, and plant a sweet string of kisses along his jaw.

He tells himself that it’s just morbid curiosity. A side effect of puberty and the media’s blatant promotion of homosexuality.

He remembers his English teacher saying something about a tree falling in a forest, with no one there to witness it. If nobody knows that it’s happening, then it’s not happening at all. Contrary to popular belief, he does pay attention in class.

As long as nobody knows that Nate Jacobs likes boys, Nate Jacobs does not like boys.

So he hangs his head low as he walks, making himself as small as possible considering that he’s about six foot five.

He knows objectively that everyone is too busy being insecure about their own miserable selves to pay attention to him, but it still feels like every single person he walks past on the street is staring him down with disgust.

Like they know exactly who he is and what he wants. The notion of such a thing has a swarm of bees flitting around below his belly button. It makes him anxious but it also makes him hard. He doesn’t even bother to attempt and unpack why those two things always happen at once.

He pulls his sweatshirt down enough to cover the obnoxious tent in his joggers and walks a little faster. It takes him only fifteen minutes to get there despite his phone’s GPS estimating that it would take twenty-five.

Nate had been talking to an older man for about a week, on this app that let him lie about being eighteen. The man offered to drive out to his house, but Nate quickly shut that down. The thought of the man knowing his address terrifies Nate, so insists that he prefers to walk. He also has to lie about having a car because the thought of the man knowing his license plate number scares him just as much.

Nate is filled with fear more often than most people would think.

When he comes back from a particularly rough day at school, his imagination runs a little wild. He fantasizes about a man sneaking into his bedroom through his window, which he makes sure to lock every night. He thinks about what he would do if one day he were to get in his car and a man was sitting in the back seat with a cigarette between his lips, just waiting for him. He shakes those fantasies away like a wet dog, scolding himself because they’re too dangerous to entertain even as dreams.

Pushing any notion of safety aside, Nate finds himself on the doorstep of a reasonably sized house. It’s modest, not large enough for an entire family, but judging by the architecture and location, Nate estimates it’s at least a couple thousand dollars a month.

He starts to think about how uncomfortably intimate having sex in someone else’s living space might feel, and finds himself wishing that he’d suggested a motel instead. But then he remembers that all of the encounters his father recorded take place at a motel and the last thing he wants is to resemble his dad even more than he already does.

Nate knocks on the door with the confidence of someone who’s doing it for the very first time. It takes less than thirteen seconds for the man to answer. Nate counts.

“Hey,” The man looks him up and down and then smiles. “I’m Michael.” Nate is surprised by how nice Michael’s teeth are. They’ve exchanged dozens of pictures, but none of them showed either of their faces.

Nate is also surprised to see that Michael is about the same height as him. Even Nate’s dad is shorter than him. He doesn’t know why he thinks about that so often or why it matters to him at all.

Nate reaches out his hand to shake Michael’s without even thinking about it, and feels like an idiot for it afterward. But Michael smiles like he thinks it’s funny and opens the door wide, gesturing for Nate to come inside.

As Nate walks behind him, he takes note of his backside.

“Do you want something to drink?” Michael asks.

“No, I’m good,” Nate’s voice shakes with nerves, but Michael doesn’t mention it. “Thanks.”

“Alright.” Michael smiles again, like it’s easy. “So… do you want to put on a movie or something to get comfortable, talk about what you like and don’t like, or should we just get to it?”

Nate likes that Michael lets him decide. That he doesn’t just assume Nate wants the latter, even though he does.

“We can just get to it. If you’re cool with that. Figure it out as we go, I guess.”

Michael nods and pulls Nate by the wrist, leading him into a bedroom.

There aren’t any pictures on the walls. Nate is looking around, indiscreetly, when Michael pushes him onto the bed. It’s so gentle that he doesn’t mind.

“You’re clean right?”

“Yeah.” Nate tells him, not certain if it’s a lie.

He’s never been tested. But he always uses condoms during sex. He figures that’s enough.

Michael also gets on the bed, laying down on his stomach, right in between Nate’s thighs. He nudges them apart with his elbows and palms Nate without warning, making him jump.

“You’re already this hard?” Michael smirks and looks up at Nate like a hungry cat. A black cat that’s desperate for milk and roams the streets alone, ignored by people because of the mean myth that he only brings misfortune.

“I guess I’m just excited. It’s been a while— I don’t usually do this stuff.”

Michael raises an eyebrow and hums like he doesn’t believe that. He tugs Nate’s joggers down his legs, letting them pool at his ankles. Nate sits up a little to take his sweatshirt off.

But Michael halts the movement, “Wait,” He can wrap his whole hand around Nate’s wrist. “Keep it on.”

“Why? You don’t like what you see?” Nate hates how insecure he sounds. He’s spent hours in front of his bathroom mirror, fixating on every inch of flesh and hint of bone. He’s worked hard for it— so his body is one of the few things he’s genuinely proud about— and he was certain Michael would appreciate it. He really seemed to like it, at least in pictures.

“I like everything I see,” Michael assures him, “I just have a fetish for this— I find it hot when the other person still has some of their clothes on.”

Nate looks at him with skeptical eyes. “Okay.”

Michael leans in to press their lips together for the first time. Nate would usually pull away, but he melts into the kiss this time.

He doesn’t know if it’s because of his appearance or his pheromones, but Nate decides he’ll make an exception to his no kissing rule for Michael. His lips aren’t as soft or plump as Maddie’s, but Nate finds that he doesn’t care.

They make out on the bed for a while. Nate doesn’t count how long it lasts. Time feels fleeting and distorted.

Then Michael gives Nate the best head of his life. His eyes even roll all the way back to his head a couple of times. He’s a little embarrassed because a few minutes into it, he has to ask Michael to stop.

“I don’t want to come yet.” Nate explains, trying not to moan when he says it.

Michael chuckles like he finds it endearing that he can get Nate off so quickly.

“We’re just getting started, sweetheart.” The pet name makes Nate’s cheeks burn. He feels small. “Do you want to go down on me?”

Nate blinks. He’s never given a blowjob.

“Sure.”

He gets on his knees, in front of the bed, where Michael sits with his legs open just enough for Nate to kneel in between them.

Nate grabs it with his hands first. It’s both longer and thicker than his own.

“You have pretty eyes.” Michael tells him.

Nate glances up then back down quickly, as if burnt, as if he had meant to lock eyes with Michael but now felt too overwhelmed to go through with it.

Michael is reminded of how much he enjoys watching teenage boys get flustered while on their knees.

“Hey, look at me.” Michael swipes a thumb across Nate’s bottom lip. “You’re very pretty, you know that?”

Nate has never been called that before and finds it hard to believe but he nods anyway, the movement so small that he’s not sure Michael sees it at all.

Then Michael’s hands are at the back of his head, guiding him down to his erection. Nate bites his bottom lip and stares at Michael’s dick like it’s the first one he’s ever seen.

“Give it a kiss.” Michael tells him.

Nate does. He leaves a trail of soft kisses down the entire length.

He doesn’t know why there are tears in his eyes. There are words that get stuck in the back of his throat and die there. They might’ve sounded like pleas, but it doesn’t matter, he’s already on his knees.

He puts his mouth around Michael’s cock but pulls back quickly when the older man hisses at him.

“Watch your teeth.” Michael rubs at his shoulder to steady him.

He tries again, this time, covering his teeth with his lips. He thinks he might look a little silly, but then Michael moans, and Nate thinks it doesn’t matter what he looks like.

“Have you done this before?” Michael asks. Nate hates that it’s obvious that he hasn’t.

He inches back to answer him, swallowing spit. “I haven’t.”

“I’m your first time?” Michael sounds like he won the lottery.

“First blowjob I’ve given, yeah.” Nate sounds like a kid.

“You’re doing well.” Michael runs his hand through Nate’s hair, encouraging and kind. Nate thinks about how nice it must be to be a dog. He must’ve been one in a past life.

Nate sucks at the tip for a couple of minutes, but then Michael jerks his hips forward, forcing Nate to take more than half of him in his mouth.

Nate looks up at him like he might be mad, but Michael just grins and pushes his head back down. “Just relax. Loosen your jaw.” Nate almost snaps at him, a little irritated. But then Michael’s rough hands are back on his head and Nate doesn’t have any other choice but to listen to him.

Before long, Michael is fucking into his mouth. Nate is holding on to Michael’s hips, trying to steady them when they move too fast, but Michael’s hands on his head force him to take it. Michael’s balls slap against his chin. It’s absurd and humiliating.

Nate thinks maybe Michael has his eyes closed. That’s why he hasn’t noticed the tears clinging to Nate’s eyelashes. That’s why he ignores the sound of Nate retching and gagging, just barely managing to breathe through his nose.

“Can I come in your mouth?” Michael asks. Nate tries to shake his head, tries to talk, but he’s got a mouth full of cock.

Nate thinks Michael asked him this knowing damn well that he couldn’t say no. He only wanted Nate to think that he had a choice because he knew it’d be fun to watch the panic and betrayal appear in his eyes. Nate doesn’t say no. So Michael comes in his mouth with a final grunt and Nate swallows because he figures that’s what’s expected of him. Because that’s all he can do.

Michael pulls out and taps Nate’s cheek with his cock, almost affectionate.

“Shit.” Nate says, his voice raw. He wipes his face with both hands, finding that he’s covered in tears, semen, and spit.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away there.” Michael laughs, cupping Nate’s cheek and giving him a kiss. “You’re a natural.”

Nate doesn’t have a right to be mad. He’s treated people worse. Michael is being kind. He doesn’t know why it feels like someone just slapped him across the face and called him mean names. He doesn’t know why he feels like a child again.

Nate is about to stand up and get on the bed. He wants to get to the part he knows he’ll enjoy. He wants to fuck Michael and take his power back. But then a phone starts to ring. Not from a call, but an alarm.

“Fuck.” Michael groans, and glances at the clock on the nightstand. “I completely forgot, I have to pick up my kid at school.”

Oh. Nate just got fucked in the mouth by some kid’s father. The tears are back in his eyes, and he tries to blink them away.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. But I’d love to continue this sometime,” Michael’s already putting his clothes back on, “I’ll text you, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Nate tugs his bottoms back up. The fabric feels rough against his erection.

Michael kisses Nate goodbye right in front of his house. Nate looks around like he’s scared one of the neighbors might be watching, but Michael doesn’t seem to care.

“You’re sure you don’t need a ride?” Michael shouts, just as Nate starts walking down his driveway.

“I told you, I like to walk.” Nate shouts back.

*

His legs feel like they’re sinking deeper into the ground with every step. It takes Nate forty minutes to walk back to his house.

He brushes his teeth three times and takes a scalding hot shower. He suspects his skin is blotchy and red, so he’s deliberate in avoiding the mirror while he dries himself.

At dinner, his mother asks if he ate something spicy. The whites of his eyes are pink and his lips are swollen like they’ve been pinched. Nate tells them he went to a Mexican restaurant with Maddie, but can’t look at either of them in the eyes directly.

His dad is smart. He might suspect something else happened. He might know that his son is a faggot after all.

Nate goes to his bedroom and forgets to lock the door. He remembers when he lays down on his bed but doesn’t bother getting up to do it. He just cries and stares at the ceiling like it’s a mirror. His pillow gets wet with tears and Nate throws it to the floor like it’s somehow responsible for everything he feels.

Nothing bad happened. He didn’t get drugged, kidnapped, blackmailed, or brutally raped. He didn’t even get catfished.

Everything’s fine.

So what if he gave some guy head? It’s not a big deal.

It’s fine.

Even if his chest hurts like someone took a hammer and beat him with it.

He’s fine.

Nate falls asleep to a man’s rough hands gently brushing strands of hair out of his face. A thumb slides down from his cheek to his bottom lip. It feels familiar.

That night, Nate dreams of a world where children get to be children and love doesn’t leave him bleeding.