Beautiful Boys: Gay Erotic Stories (4 page)

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Authors: Richard Labonte (Editor)

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“Don’t like it?” Rich grinned mischievously and poked the lens right up to Uri’s eyes. The camera flashed again.
 
Uri snatched the camera from him. “Cut it out. You’re going to fuck up the lens.”
 
Rich shrugged and picked up a potato on the counter and started peeling it over the sink, stifling his smile.
 
Uri set the camera on the counter and moved behind Rich. He leaned against Rich’s back, pressing his cheek against the face of the vulture on his spine. He pulled his jeans and boxers down, finding no resistance from Rich. Uri got on his knees and ate out Rich’s fuzzy blond ass and balls, reaching around to stroke seven cut inches. Uri returned the orgasmic favor as Rich cooked their dinner with a pleased smile.
 
 
The next night Uri took Rich barhopping with friends. It was the heart of December, the air raw, sidewalks slushy with old snow. Uri’s friend Marcus had just graduated the day before. It was a Friday night. Their group of twelve guys ran through the bar district of their college town in a wet fog, bar to bar down the red-brick street. They crossed paths with other groups of reveling December graduates. Uri’s friends were a sharper bunch than Rich, wealthy boys from the big city, wearing sherbet, collared shirts and stonewashed jeans. Rich stuck out with his piercings and black Killswitch Engage hoodie. He straggled several feet behind the crowd with a cigarette perched on his lips. Uri stayed back with him.
 
“What do you think of my friends?” Uri asked on the edge of laughter, black eyes wide with curious expectation.
 
“They’re nice,” Rich said taking a drag from his cigarette, other hand tucked in his hoodie pocket.
 
“You’re not really talking to them,” Uri said.
 
They marched down the sidewalk. Rich kept his eyes on the terrain of slushy ice under his boots. “They’re not really talking to me.”
 
“Just loosen up, have fun.”
 
“Bars like Klusoz and Melt aren’t really my places.”
 
“Would you rather we go to Adolf’s and get our asses kicked?”
 
“I’d protect you.” Rich blew smoke over his shoulder and clutched Uri’s neck, lightly shaking him. The question was flawed since Rich would never set foot in a dive like Adolf’s. Uri still had an assumptive naivety about him. He wasn’t as
hard
as he’d like to think.
 
Up ahead the guys tried to quiet Marcus, a chubby guy wearing a bright red Lacoste shirt. He was shouting the chorus of “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga at the top of his lungs, stumbling across the street toward a bar called the Library, which looked to be the loudest, most crowded joint on the street.
 
Rich flicked his cigarette into a puddle of ice. “But those guys would be on their own.”
 
Jason, a taller, muscular jock wearing a bright teal polo swung around and snapped a photo of Rich and Uri with his iPhone while walking backward. “Rich, I’m going to add you on Facebook,” he said with missionlike determination. Jason’s hair was bleach blond and spiky, his skin tanned into bronze. He was gorgeous with classic boy-next-door cheekbones and a button nose.
 
“I don’t have a Facebook,” Rich said.
 
“Oh, my god, are you fucking kidding?”
 
“No, I’m not on the Internet.”
 
“But you’re all over Uri’s blog.”
 
Rich gave Uri a nonplussed smile, nodding with a knowing-ness of
I am aren’t I?
 
“So you’re not a student,” Jason said unable to hide the slight disparaging tone in his voice. “What do you do?”
 
Rich coughed some smoke. “Practice being broke.” He grinned at Jason, but his eyes weren’t in it.
 
“Hey, it’s all good, Uri doesn’t have a job either.”
 
“Thanks, Jason,” Uri said.
 
“Why don’t you put some ads on your blog?” Jason asked. “With all your viewers, you could make cum loads of money. Rich, you should get a decent cut since you’re on there so much.”
 
“I feel like I’d lose some of the artistry if I did that,” Uri said. “I don’t want to tarnish Rich’s anarchist image.”
 
“My anarchist image?” Rich asked, surprised.
 
“Yeah, speaking of which, one of those images last night, over a hundred people commented or liked it.”
 
“What image?” Rich asked.
 
“The one where you’re in your boxers adjusting the digital antenna.”
 
“I told you not to upload that one. You can see my asscrack.”
 
Uri shrugged high, averting his eyes. “You have no idea how striking you are.”
 
“You
are
hot!” Jason chirped, still walking backward pointing his iPhone at Rich. “You should be happy to join the boys that Uri curates. You’re like this punk, fuck-everything guy. I wouldn’t even guess you were gay. I love your piercings. Did the lip one hurt?”
 
“Yeah, it did.”
 
Jason poked around his phone with his thumb. “Uri, I just uploaded that first pic to Facebook and tagged you.”
 
“Rich, show Jason your tattoos,” Uri said. “Rich has these awesome tattoos.”
 
Rich rolled up the left sleeve of his hoodie, showing off his steel blue feathers, silver python and yellow skull.
 
“Awesome, I have a tattoo, too!” Jason spun around and lifted the back of his shirt. Black scripted letters right above his asscrack spelled IXOYE. “I just got it. It’s Greek for Jesus.”
 
“You’re religious?” Rich asked.
 
“Hell, yeah. Jesus is my inspiration for everything.” Jason aimed his iPhone at Rich’s arm. “You should do porn. You have such a look. Uri could help you, little photo bug that he is. He took all my modeling shots.”
 
“Um, no,” Rich said. “That doesn’t interest me at all.”
 
“Jason is actually a porn star,” Uri said.
 
“I’ve only done like three movies,” Jason said, nonchalantly flexing his biceps over his head. He stepped backward off the curb into the street.
 
“He’s being modest,” Uri said. “One of the movies he’s in won a GayVN.”
 
“I don’t know what that means,” Rich said.
 
“It’s like the Oscars for porn.”
 
“It helps pay for nursing school,” Jason said. “And it’s so nice to get flown out of Lubbock on weekends to film. But after two more semesters, I’m done with it.”
 
“Tired of feeling like an object?” Rich asked.
 
“Why would I feel like an object?”
 
Uri grabbed Rich’s arm, “Show Jason the vulture tattoo on your back.”
 
“It’s like twenty degrees out here,” Rich said.
 
“C’mon,” Uri pleaded.
 
“Maybe when we’re inside.”
 
Jason spun around and joined up with the crowd of guys across the street.
 
After they crossed the icy street, Uri stopped Rich. Green neon lights on the side of the building cast a sickly glow on Rich’s sharp, tired face. “What’s wrong?” Uri asked.
 
“Nothing.” Rich scratched his neck. “Let’s just go.”
 
“Home?”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“It’s only midnight,” Uri said.
 
Rich pulled his hood over his head and cupped Uri’s jaw, pulling him into a kiss. He said against his lips, “Let’s just get away from them and fuck.”
 
Uri kissed back. “Okay.”
 
“Hey!” came a husky voice. Marcus, the stocky new graduate of the group, playfully shoved Uri, knocking him off Rich. “None of that out here, faggots, unless you want a hate crime.”
 
The guys were scattering and Marcus told the two that the Library was too crowded so they were all headed back to his house. “Y’all coming?”
 
“Yeah!” Uri chimed, tugging Rich’s sweater.
 
Rich pulled a cigarette from his pack and propped it between his lips.
 
The ride to Marcus’s house was a haze of red taillights in the fog. Orange light shined through crystallized windows on Rich and Uri making out in the backseat.
 
“Stop being gross,” Marcus said, flicking the rearview mirror up while swerving around cars on the icy streets.
 
The party started off with just twelve gay guys in the lush two-story house, drinking and listening to a mix of techno and assorted pop vomit. Over the next hour other mutual friends arrived until more than thirty people, mostly guys, crowded the living room, kitchen and patio. Colorful glass pipes were passed around, and the den was soon enshrouded in a haze of skunky smoke.
 
Rich and Uri got in on it. Uri was shy about smoking pot, but Rich was eager for free social lubricant. He became increasingly wild with each puff of weed and shot of liquor as the night went on. He loosened up, lost his hoodie, lost his shirt, entered the free tribal state he normally bottled up. The vulture wings on his bony shoulder blades seemed to flap as he jumped around the party talking to different circles of guys, telling the same stories about each tattoo while scratching the top of his head childishly.
 
“You’re having fun,” Uri said to Rich as he bounced to a stop in front of the kitchen counter full of liquor bottles.
 
Rich poured rum into Coke in a red cup and handed it to Uri. “I didn’t think being around gay guys would be fun, but they seem to like me.” He swigged from the rum. “I didn’t even know there was a gay crowd in this town.”
 
Uri sipped from his cup and frowned against the rum, wiping his lip. “Yeah, this is pretty much the gay illuminati of this town, all concentrated in one house.”
 
“You make it sound scary.”
 
“Some of these guys have girlfriends, totally separate lives when they’re not hanging with Marcus’s crowd scoring drugs or fucking each other.” Uri pointed out each guy in the crowd smoking in the living room. “Rugby player, student government senator, frat, frat, engaged, Christian frat, former gymnast.”
 
“That’s kind of shady.”
 
“And they all hate me,” Uri said.
 
“Why?”
 
Uri smiled and held up his camera. “Beautiful boys like them are naturally cam whores, but not when it’s in my hands.”
 
“You have a way of getting people’s faces out there.”
 
“After some bullshit a few months ago, I pretty much can’t tag anyone, and my Facebook albums have to be private. Not all of them hate me.” Uri shrugged. “Marcus and Jason like me, but they’re out.”
 
“So I guess I’m your outlet,” Rich said.
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“I’m the one hot guy you can show everyone else.”
 
“That’s a rather high opinion of yourself.”
 
“You’ve done a good job pumping my ego.”
 
Uri kissed Rich’s sternum, running his hands up his ribs to his collarbone. “Well, here’s another. They’re now all jealous of me and it feels like flying.”
 
“You’re stoned. The blog isn’t enough validation?”
 
“Oh, right, those people. But I don’t know those people. I don’t care about anonymous people. It means nothing compared to this.”

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