Chapter 3 - Real Life.

Brian shifted till he was kneeling between Justin’s thighs and gently lifted the youth’s legs till his ankles were resting on the solidity of Brian’s shoulders. He reached for the tube of KY. Justin heard the *snick* as the cap was flicked open and then felt the squish of cold wetness as a dollop of lube was squirted on his hole. A second later there were two fingers shoving the lube inside him and he cringed at the sudden intrusion. The pain was fleeting, though. It was followed within moments by the electric tingle resulting from those fingers brushing across his prostate. Justin moaned and used the leverage of his legs on those broad shoulders to arch upwards into the touch. 

Brian wasn’t playing around though; he quickly withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the blunt tip of his cock. Justin grumbled at the loss of the fingers, and the resulting sense of emptiness, even as he began to anticipate what was coming next. He smiled up at his gorgeous lover. Brian was too busy to smile back. He held his cock in place with his right hand and used his left to keep Justin’s hip steady as he slowly pressed inside. The pressure, the nearly-painful stretching, and then the release as the head of Brian’s cock breached the first ring of muscles, was exquisite. They both froze for a second to enjoy the moment and allow themselves to adjust.

And then it was all action and thrusting and sweat-drenched bodies sliding against each other. Brian bent Justin almost in half so that he could claim the boy’s lips, sucking and nibbling on the bottom one as he continued to pump in and out, in and out, in and out. Justin grabbed hold of a wad of cotton sheeting and held on for dear life. It was glorious. He could feel his heart rate skyrocketing as the bolts of stimulation zapped through him and grew stronger with every thrust. Finally, the voltaic frequency crossed that invisible threshold level and it was all of a sudden too late. The electric twinges congealed in the pit of Justin’s stomach and then exploded outward in all directions at once like a lightning storm, causing every muscle in his body to spasm. He could feel Brian’s seed shooting deep inside him, washing him with a happy warmth, right before his own stream erupted to paint his stomach with streamers of viscous white . . .

///~///~

“Justin! Why aren’t you up already? You’re going to be late,” Justin’s mother complained, banging open the door to her son’s bedroom as she passed.

Justin blinked around at the brightness of his room, trying to reconcile the suburban morning he found himself in with the dark loft of his dream. He pulled his hand out from under the blanket and looked at the cum dripping off it. Oh. It had obviously been another of THOSE dreams. 

He’d been having a lot of those dreams lately. You’d have thought that, as time passed, the memories of his time with Brian would fade and the dreams become less frequent, but it seemed the opposite was true. Almost every night now, he was seeing his former lover in his dreams. Dreams which inevitably ended up the same way. Not that he was complaining, really, but his mother was getting a little annoyed at the amount of laundry she was having to do because of the mess he’d been making of his sheets each night.

Justin reached over the side of his bed and grabbed the towel left lying on the carpet after his last shower, using that to wipe himself off before climbing out of bed. He sighed. It wasn’t easy to leave the perfection of his dreams to face the dreary reality of his days. Especially not when that meant spending his daylight hours fending off the homophobic bullies at school. 

See, besides his nightly visitation from the sexy dream brunet, the other fallout from his night of ecstasy on Liberty Avenue was that Justin had been ‘outed’ to the whole school. Arriving at school in a Jeep with the word ‘FAGGOT’ spray painted on the side, combined with Brian threatening to kick John Spencer’s homophobic ass, and Justin’s own behavior while he was asking Brian when he could see him again - which, apparently, had been overheard by at least a dozen of his classmates - had left little doubt in the collective conscious of St. James Academy that Justin was indeed a ‘fag’. So, ever since that morning when Brian left him on the curb still reeling from their night of passion, Justin had been having to deal with the other negative effects of his adventure. And it had changed the entire dynamic of everything in Justin’s life.

Up to that point, Justin had been able to fly under the radar of most of the school bullies. His empathic skills had allowed him to avoid the worst of them and manipulate the situation to his advantage with those he couldn’t avoid. But after being outed, he could no longer hide from them. He was now front and center as ‘The Gay Kid’. The amount of animosity aimed his way had increased exponentially. The bullies were no longer trying to hide their animosity; they’d moved on to mounting an all-out campaign of hate directed solely at Justin. It had made his life at school a living hell.

But even worse than the name calling, shoving in hallways, tripping as he walked through classrooms, and being outright shunned from the boy’s locker room, was the fallout from when the rumors of his sexuality made it back to Justin’s parents. 

It had only taken about two weeks. The bullies at school had quickly escalated their hate to the point that Justin finally had to physically stand up for himself. The resulting altercation that broke out in the middle of the cafeteria, in front of a huge crowd of onlookers, got Justin and the ringleader of the attackers, Chris Hobbs, sent to the Principal’s office. Then their parents were called. Needless to say, when Craig Taylor was informed of the basis for the fight, he was not pleased. 

Craig had gone through the denial and anger stages right there in the Principal’s office, and proceeded to bargaining as soon as he got Justin home. He’d tried all the same old tropes you’d expect. ‘You’re too young to know if you’re gay or not’, ‘maybe you just haven’t met the right girl’, and even, ‘no son of mine is gonna be gay’. Justin simply sat there and patiently let his father rant without comment. It wasn’t worth the effort to try and argue with him; Justin could tell that right from the start. Craig’s mood was intractable. Justin really didn’t need his empathic skills, since Craig was broadcasting his emotions like a bullhorn. Eventually, though, Craig had worked himself back to anger again, and seemed likely to stick there for the foreseeable future. Even several weeks later, Craig still wasn’t talking to his son. Getting to the acceptance stage seemed unlikely to happen any time soon. 

Justin had been luckier with his mother. Her own naturally high level of empathy had allowed Justin to work with her, to get her back to the loving and supportive mother he counted on, with little struggle. Jennifer wasn’t exactly overjoyed to have Justin announcing he was gay, but she’d at least suspected the truth for a long while, so it wasn’t totally unexpected. Jennifer had already moved on to the point where she’d started to ask her son whether there were any boys he was interested in. She wouldn’t have been happy to hear that the only man Justin was interested in was the 30-year-old who’d already taken Justin’s virginity, so Justin kept that part to himself. 

But with all that going on, it was no wonder that Justin wasn’t looking forward to another week of his real life. If only he could stay in his happy dream world all the time. The world where he was appreciated for who he was. The world where he had a lover who made him melt with happiness. The world were he didn’t have to deal with bullies and disappointed fathers and all the other bullshit that came with real life. 

“Justin, NOW!” Jennifer ordered as she walked past, going in the opposite direction from her first pass. “If you’re late again today, it’s all on you. I won’t write you another excuse. You'll have to deal with detention on your own.”

“Fine. I’m going. I’m going . . .” Justin grumbled and padded off to take a shower and get into his uniform so he could head off to the torture otherwise known as school.

///~///~

Justin made it to school just before the bell rang. Daphne was waiting for him next to his locker, looking at him with the same judgmental expression his mother had used. Whatever. He’d grabbed his books and they ran down the hall side by side, arriving at the door to their History class right as the bell finished shrilling, beating the teacher even. 

“Excuse me, faggot,” Hobbs snarled as he knocked Justin into the wall and pushed past them into the classroom. 

Hobbs seemed to be on a tear that morning - just what Justin needed - and proceeded to join his buddies in terrorizing Peter Johns, a mousy little guy who was too timid to stand up for himself. Justin and Daphne shared a look, shook their heads, and sighed. It never fucking ended.

“. . . you look like a faggot to me,” Chris was accusing poor Peter. “You wanna suck my cock, huh?”

“Can’t they think of anything more original to say?” Daphne questioned before turning her ire on the huddle of bullies around Peter. “Leave him alone, Hobbs.”

“Oooo. Must be a faggot convention,” Hobbs replied with a smirk aimed Justin’s way.

“Don’t take it out on him,” Daphne demanded angrily.

“Take what out,” Hobbs asked stupidly.

“Your dick,” Justin answered, earning himself a laugh from the entire class, including two of Hobbs’ sycophants.

“Shut up, faggot,” Hobbs growled with a shove to Justin’s shoulder that knocked the smaller boy back a couple steps. 

Justin wasn’t going to just take it like Peter, though. He came right back at Hobbs with a shove of his own. The big jock, who’d been taken by surprise that anyone would have the gall to stand up to him, actually fell back a few steps and tripped over Peter’s book bag, landing heavily in an empty desk seat. That earned an even bigger laugh from the crowd. It also resulted in a pulsation of hatred from the target of the laughter, aimed with a laser focus at Justin. Justin gasped at the malevolency of the feelings washing over him; he’d never felt so much hatred focused solely on himself before. Justin had long known that Hobbs was dangerous and now he realized how much he’d just fed that hatred.

Luckily, before Hobbs could act on his feelings, Mr. Dickson, the History teacher, came into the room and ordered the classroom to settle down. Justin and Daphne took their seats as directed. Dickson put his jacket on the chair at the front of the classroom and opened his attendance ledger, starting to call off the names in the usual order. Only, when he got to Justin’s name, Hobbs proved he wasn’t ready to let his animosity go.

“Ruiz?” Dickson called the name right before Justin’s.

“Here,” the boy in the back responded.

“Taylor?”

“Queer!” Hobbs replied before Justin could answer, raising another round of laughter from the entire classroom.

Dickson, meanwhile, pretended he hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary and continued with the roll call. “Thomas?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Dickson,” Justin leapt to his feet, interrupting the teacher’s litany of names. 

“What is it, Taylor,” the teacher responded with just barely concealed contempt for his student.

Justin wasn’t deterred, though. “Chris just called me ‘queer’.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Dickson lied, with an emotional outpouring of deceit and derision.

“How could you not hear it? Everybody heard that,” Justin insisted, unwilling to let it go, probably because he could so easily read Dickson’s antipathy towards him. 

“Sit down, Taylor,” Dickson ordered.

“I want him to apologize,” Justin pressed.

“I said sit down.”

“Aren’t you going to do anything? Are you just going to pretend that nothing happened?”

“One more word from you and I’m sending you to the Principal’s Office.”

“Huh?” Justin was stunned by the dismissive response just as much as he was by the torrent of hatred he felt coming from his teacher. But he wasn’t left speechless for long. “You know what, don’t bother.” Justin picked up his messenger bag and stepped forward to face the bigotted teacher head on. “The queer is going. The queer is out the door. The queer is gone . . .”

“That’s enough of that,” Dickson growled angrily, upset at the show of defiance from the little faggot who’d always thought he was so much smarter than his teachers. 

“Oh. What do you know?” Justin turned back and pointed to where Hobbs was sitting. “HE says it and you don’t hear a thing. But when I say it? Well, listen up, now that your hearing has returned.” Justin looked Dickson directly in the eye, letting his own contempt for the teacher show through in every line of his body. “This queer says, ‘Fuck You!’”

There was a mixed reaction from the watching class. Most were amazed that anyone would stand up to a teacher like that. A few were cheering. Hobbs and his cronies were jeering. 

Meanwhile, Dickson was going red in the face, looking like a volcano that was about to erupt. “That’s it, Taylor. You are out of here!”

Justin didn’t need the direction. He was already five meters down the hallway on his way to the Principal’s office. He knew he was in it pretty deep this time. St. James didn’t tolerate talking back to teachers. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. Dickson had never been one of his favorite teachers to start with - he was just an older version of the same dumb jocks he coached as the assistant on the varsity football team - but before that day he’d never known what a raging homophobe the guy was. Apparently, the rumors of Justin’s outing had now reached the teachers as well. So much for the furor dying down any time soon, huh?

So Justin had let himself into the school office, told the receptionist he’d been sent there by Dickson, plunked himself down in a chair, and resigned himself to waiting for his doom. 

But luckily - or unluckily, as the case might be - since Principal Perkins was in a School Board Meeting that morning, Justin ended up having a long wait. A long, boring wait. After about twenty minutes the bell rang to announce the end of the previous class period. Justin tried to argue with the receptionist that he should be allowed to go to his next class - physics - instead of sitting there wasting time, but the woman would have none of it. She ordered him back to his chair. The worst part was that Justin wasn’t allowed to even play on his phone or read a book while he waited. And, since it was already heating up outside, looking like it would turn into a rather warm day for that late in the fall, the office was quite stuffy. So it wasn’t surprising that it didn’t take long before Justin was nodding off. 

///~///~

Justin found himself walking through a park. It was such a nice day and he was enjoying the sun on his face. The walk led him through a section with taller trees, past several flower beds, and on towards the area where benches were set up surrounding the children’s play area. 

There were groups of mothers, and a few fathers, sitting around as they watched their children romping in the sunshine. Off to one side was a small clique of three or four women who were so busy chatting they didn’t notice anything else going on. Justin found himself walking nearer and nearer. 

He stopped when he came up to a stroller parked close by. He looked down and found a baby napping in the stroller, the tiny body cocooned in blankets and a blue beanie hat pulled down to just above the tot’s closed eyes. The little boy’s face was angelic in sleep. As he watched, the infant shifted in its sleep, bringing a hand up so he could suck a tiny thumb. It was an adorable sight. 

Which was why he was so surprised that the primary emotion he felt as he stared down at the sweet little innocent wasn’t affection or kindness, but outright anger. Hostility. And even loathing. 

///~///~

The intensity of all those negative feelings engendered by the sleeping baby was enough to startle Justin awake.

“What the fuck?” Justin muttered, unable to reconcile that level of hatred with the beautiful image of the slumbering baby. 

“Language, Mr. Taylor!” The receptionist chided him.

“Sorry, Ms. Simmons. Guess I was having a bad dream or something.”

“That’s no excuse for impropriety, young man,” she replied prissily, always having to get in the last word. Before she could continue the lecture, however, the phone rang. “Yes of course, Sir. I’ll send him right in.” After hanging up the receiver, the receptionist turned to Justin and announced, “Dr. Perkins will see you now.”

///~///~

The penalty for telling your teacher to go fuck himself ended up being a three day suspension, a ranting lecture from one’s father going on at length about ‘permanent records’ and college acceptances, a disappointed mother, and being grounded for two weeks. 

Justin accepted all of these things as gracefully as he could. He only raised a stink at the suggestion that he write an apology letter to Mr. Dickson; he refused to apologize to a bigot like that. Instead, while he was holed up in his room enduring the rest of his punishment, Justin used his time to write out a formal complaint to the school board against the teacher that had ignored Hobbs’ blatant homophobic attacks. The school claimed to have a ‘No Tolerance’ policy on bullying and Dickson’s actions were a clear violation of that policy. Justin realized it was unlikely anything would come of his complaint, but it was the principle of the thing. At the very least it would be a mark in the teacher’s ‘permanent record’ too. 

Justin spent the rest of his time while grounded lolling around in bed, reading, drawing, and daydreaming. As punishments go, it wasn't that bad. He was even allowed fifteen minutes a night to chat with Daphne, ostensibly so his friend could pass on their homework assignments, but they really just spent the time griping.

Unsurprisingly, Hobbs had been bragging to everyone who’d listen about how he’d got the faggot suspended. Dickson had been a total bear and rumor had it he’d gotten dressed down by Perkins. And Justin had emerged as a sort of folk hero to all the misfit kids for actually having the balls to stand up to not only the school bullies but to a teacher as well. So, basically, it was school as usual. 

The other thing that Justin ended up doing a lot of while he was confined to his room - because he was a healthy, lust-filled, teenage boy with way too much time on his hands - was masturbating to memories of Brian Kinney. Could anyone really blame him? Brian was one of his favorite subjects when he was sketching and, after spending an hour or two drawing Mr. Kinney’s beautiful cock, Justin had to siphon off the resulting sexual tension somehow, right? But, after accidentally walking in on her son with his hand down the front of his dangerously tented sweatpants for the third time in as many days, Mrs. Taylor officially declared Justin’s ‘punishment’ over and ordered Justin out of the house so she could clean his room and air it out before the funk took over the entire upstairs. 

Justin didn’t wait around for his mother to change her mind. He quickly changed clothes, shoved his sketch pad and a pair of pajamas in his bag, and scampered out of there, heading to Daphne’s for the night. The two friends spent the rest of the afternoon laughing together, eating junk food, and watching old movies on Netflix. And Justin hoped that would be an end to the adventure of his suspension.

///~///~