If I Should Fall: The Second Book of Geshichte Falls

There was a knock on his door, and Russell was sure that this was one of his parents, probably Thom. But he wished it was Jason. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wanted Jason to come and make sense of what had happened. He had been trying to make sense of it all day. He waited until the second knock, and then decided he was being rude. The sense that had not come all day was not about to come in the space between now and the next knock.

He opened it and Ralph was standing there, his wide hazel eyes worried, his tawny hair that he was so careful with, parted and partially out of his face. He smelled like he’d just showered and he was in joggers and tee shirt under his beige parka.

“Russ, Jason called me and told me to come over. He said something had…”

Ralph stopped talking, his eyes searching Russell.

“I know we’ve been weird,” Ralph said. “You and me. That’s my fault. I’m sorry. But… please talk to me, Russ. Say something. What’s going on in your head?”

Russell looked, to Ralph, injured. He’d never seen Russell Lewis look injured. Yes, he had tried to injure him, or tried to test him, but he was sure that Russell was unbreakable and, above all kids except maybe Gilead Story, unconfoundable. But Russell looked both hurt and confounded right now, and Ralph wanted to hug him except he wasn’t a hugger. He wasn’t sure what he was. And Russell reached behind Ralph and locked the door. He looked very desperate, like he was about to do something that he wasn’t sure about, and then all in a moment his hands reached for Ralph’s waistband, and he pulled down his joggers and Ralph wasn’t wearing underwear and so Russell got on his knees and began to suck him.

Ralph’s eyes went wide, and then he closed them, gasping. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He leaned back against the door, not knowing what to do with his hands. At last, as he felt Russell’s hands on his hips, reaching back to cup his ass, Ralph’s hands buried themselves in Russell’s hair. He blinked once, seeing the great windows of the room with curtains open, wondering if anyone could see him then not caring as he felt himself getting longer and firmer, felt himself becoming his cock, felt Russell’s tongue, his mouth so warm, bathing him like he was a baby, sucking him like he was nurse.

Ralph wasn’t a boy who thought about things. He didn’t know how. Feelings frightened him and doubts he put out of his mind. He knew what he wanted and what he didn’t and these things usually happened in the moment. Now and again he could screw up his wits and his courage to come to a great purpose and make an important statement. Mostly he did not have to. Friendships were few in his life. School was made of buddies. He cared about Jason, but he especially cared about Russell, and when Jason had called him up shaken and a mess, Ralph imagined—as much as he imagined anything—Jason twisting the phone cord as he spoke, and he knew he had to go to Russell for whatever had happened. Russell had been gone the first two times Ralph called, presumably with Gilead and right now he had found him, sure from the look on his parents’ faces that they had no idea what was going on in their son’s life. But then, what parents did?

So, when he and Russell undressed, except for closing the curtains and turning off the large light, there was no thinking. Ralph was baited breath, one hundred seventy pounds of varsity football player, tan skinned, sandy haired, broad shouldered, pretty in a bruiser way. Ralph was the desire for someone he’d cared for more, much more than he could ever say, and a penis, thick and rose headed pointing forward like a compass. He half stumbled after Russell, climbing onto the bed and he had done this before, done it with Cody, learned to lift legs, learned to lube the knob of his cock, learned to, oh God, slowly and with a slow grit, push, push, enter, learned the moment of mutual shock, and then, slowly, slowly, quicker now the fucking, the kissing, the kissing, the hands planted on shoulders, the legs encasing him, the being the possessed, the possessing.

Fucking girls was different. All fucking was wrong, a sin, but fucking girls made him feel safe. It was easy. They were available. It confirmed something, but he wasn’t sure what the something was, and maybe Russell could have told him because his mom was a shrink. But fucking guys, or at least fucking Cody had been something else altogether. It had been urgent, more…. Maybe more real. Certainly more unsafe. He had felt completely unsafe, completely like he didn’t know who he was anymore, but also completely more real, alive. He had felt… ecstasy was the fancy word for it.

And fucking Russell, the urgent but completely coordinated movements they made on this bed, was another thing from that. It was nothing like Vanessa or that girl on the football field. It was all of him. It was every goddamn thing he wanted. He didn’t want to come. He told himself he was kind of a slut for knowing how not to come, for knowing how to do this so well, how to please Russell. Oh, God, how he wanted to please him. He couldn’t talk to anyone about this, couldn’t even talk to himself, but this didn’t feel like a sin. This felt like the best thing ever. This felt like nothing else mattered.

“You like this… you like me inside you…. You like old Ralph in you…” he knew he sounded silly, but he couldn’t help himself, and Russell didn’t seem to mind.

“You like my cock in you… you like this dick? Like it. You like the way I fuck? You like how I kiss you… Kiss me…. take that… Take…. That…”

His heart and his cock swelled when Russell answered that he did love it, and this is when he knew he wanted Russell to fuck him.

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A word from the writer: There is a difference between rising above something and turning a blind eye. If you are this far into this story, then you obviously like it, and if you like it then you, who are reading my work for free and contributing nothing to it, need to either rate it well, or find something else to read. Whoever has been sitting around reading the fruit of my labor on a daily basis and then rating it a 6 or 7 or lower needs to either get their act together or find something else to read. That is all. Back to our tale.

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 “Are you leaving?” Russell asked.

“Do you…” Ralph’s voice cracked. It was dry. He was tired. “Do you want me to?”

“No!” Russell must have sounded more desperate than he knew. “No…”

Russell didn’t always know how to speak either, didn’t know how to say he’d always wanted Ralph to stay. Didn’t know how to say that this moment when he and Ralph were almost the same thing, were legs and arms together, and chests together was… Well, there was no comparison to what it was, so Russell just said, “No… I don’t.”

Uncharacteristically, but then this whole thing was uncharacteristic, Ralph kissed Russell on his forehead.

“Please stay.”

“I can do that.”

Ralph pulled Russell to him. Russell let himself feel weak in the arms of someone he could have barely trusted a year ago, let himself feel weak and protected when he never let that happen.

“Don’t you want to know….” Russell began, “what happened?”

“With Jason?”

“Yeah.”

Ralph was stroking him, holding him the way he wanted to be held.

“Not really,” Ralph said. “Not unless you want to tell me.”

“No,” Russell said. “I…. I just want this.”

Ralph looked at Russell frankly. His eyes were wide and serious and he said.

“I always loved you, Russ.”

And then Ralph reached behind him and turned off the light.