Anything Once

    It was around 10 PM when Cye pulled up to the apartment complex and parked the car. He saw the lights were on; the party was probably just beginning. He stepped out grabbed a grocery bag stuffed with snacks he had picked up from the convenience store earlier, locked his car, and trudged up the walkway. He juggled the bag in his arm, trying to get the door open, but it was thrown wide and Kento beamed.

    “Dude, it’s about time you got back! My stomach’s gnawing on my backbone already!”

    He reached into the bag as Cye smiled and shook his head, walking past him. “If you’re so hungry why don’t you go shopping once in a while?”

    There were a few people in the living room, smoking and sitting on the couch. A few girls and a few guys, all talking over the loud music.

    “Great party, huh?” Kento said loudly, following Cye into the kitchen. “I hope I invited enough guys for ya!”

    Cye set down the paper bag and turned to flash Kento a sarcastic grin. “Kento . . .”

    “Just kiddin’, just kiddin’, man.” Kento waved it off. “Did you forget to invite Rowen?”

    “No. He must have decided not to come, or he’s late.” Cye paused. “I’m not hitting on him if that’s what you’re thinking-”

    “Nah, nah. It’s just that he usually brings his bong or a pipe or something. I could go for a toke or two tonight.”

    “You know that stuff’ll kill you.”

    Kento grinned recklessly and shrugged. “Hey, I’m gonna die one ‘a these days.”

    The doorbell rang, and Cye shook his head.

    “Speak of the devil . . . can you get that? I’ve got to change me clothes.”

    Kento nodded and walked out of the kitchen as Cye went to his room and turned on the lights. Imagine his surprise when he found a girl lying on his bed, apparently waiting for him. Upon his entrance, she smiled sweetly and said, “Hey, Cye.”

    He sighed. “Ello, Kate.” He left his door open and stared at her, uninterestedly crossing his arms. “What are you doing in me room, love?”

    It looked as if she didn’t expect him to ask that, for Kate bit her lower lip and frowned.

    “Uhh . . . I was feeling kinda tired so I took a nap.”

    “In me bed? We’ve a guest bedroom. Why don’t you go sleep in there?”

    Kate looked hurt as she stood up from his bed and walked past him, muttering under her breath, “Iceberg.”

    After she had left, Cye closed his door and promised himself that Kento would hear it from him later. And, hell, would he hear it . . .

    A few hours later, Cye walked out into the living room to find Rowen sitting next to Kento on the couch, passing a joint between them. Most of the party had already left, and Cye had opted to spend most of its duration locked in his room. Kento looked up when he entered.

    “Man, you so blew it. I had to beg and plead for Kate to agree to that.”

    Cye sat down in an adjacent recliner and shot Kento a glare that showed how thrilled he was. Kento looked away and cleared his throat. “ Okay. I’m sorry. There. Can we just forget this?”

    Cye looked over at Rowen. “Ey, Ro’. How’s it hanging?”

    Rowen, eyes quite glazed, sighed a cloud of smoke and said, “Like a potted plant.”

    Cye gave him a look and Kento explained, “He had a few smacks before he came here.”

    “Yeah, I can see that.” Cye slumped down in the recliner and pouted. “I can’t believe you actually expected me to sleep with Kate.”

    Kento shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d gotten tired of being gay, that’s all.”

    “It’s not a fashion statement, Kento. It’s a lifestyle. It’s me life. You can’t just wake up one morning and decide you’re not gay. It doesn’t work that way.”

    “Oh, pardon moi,” Kento said in a surly voice. “I guess I coulda just said hey Cye! There’s someone I want you to meet and her name is Pussy McHunt. God knows it wouldn’t kill you to experience real sex-”

    “You are being such a fuckwit, Kento. How can you know what you’re missing if you haven’t tried ‘aving sex with a man?”

    “Cuz I am straight,” he snapped. “I am clean. I am neither bent nor queer nor a Nancy Boy.”

    Cye grinned slyly. “You should try it. I think you might like it.”

    “Nuh uh.” Kento shook his head. “I am stickin’ with the ladies. You should try that.”

    “Don’t need a bird to get a peck,” the British lad replied wittily.

    Rowen spoke up. “Why don’tcha both try it?”

    “Try what?” Cye and Kento asked in unison.

    “Try out each otha’s . . . ya know. Like, Cye go straight for a day n’ score with a chick, den Kento get bent n’ do the Nasty with a nutha guy.”

    “Absolutely not!” Kento shouted.

    “That’s right out,” Cye sniffed.

    “But’cha would undastand each otha’s situation n’ ya wouldn’t hafta argue ovah who’s missin’ what.” For being a pothead, Rowen sure could be brilliant sometimes.

    Cye was quiet, then turned to Kento. “I’m willing. I’ll try that if it means not having to put up with your stupid attempts to make me straight.”

    Kento narrowed his eyes. “Really.”

    “But if I’ve to do it, you hav to do it, too.”

    Kento was silent. He leaned back against the couch. “I’ll think about it.”

    Cye smiled, and Rowen suddenly decided to become a fruit bat. He spent the night at their apartment hanging upside down from the light fixture in the dining room.

    It was Saturday, and being the beginning of summer, Cye and Kento decided upon doing one of their favorite past times: going down to the beach. They sat in the cool shade of tropical trees, talking about what had been the topic of their conversation the night before, pausing only to make fish eyes at the passing roller skate girl . . . or surfer guy.

    Kento was in mid-speech. “Alright, so you say you’d give it a try. There’s nothing to it. There’s girls all over the place. It’ll be easy to find a one-night stand . . .”

    “But . . .” Cye fidgeted nervously. “I feel so nervous around the opposite sex. Like they’re judging me every move. And when I’m with them, I always feel like I’m going to cock up oh something. I mean, what if I do something wrong? They just . . . I don’t know. It’s easier for me to be gay. I feel less pressure.”

    Kento nodded. “You’ve got performance anxiety. “

    “But I don’t know what to do with women!” Cye exclaimed. “I know absolutely nothing about them!”

    Kento shook his head. “Man, it’s all about the pussy.” He nudged his hips upward and Cye giggled. “Once you feel it, you’re gone. That is the best.”

    “Yeah? Well, what about sleeping with a man, someone who knows exactly what to do and how to do it? That is the best. But girls . . . friends are fine, but anything more and I’m oll thumbs. It makes me feel like such a git.”

    “I see where you’re comin’ from, bro, but not all chicks are so judgmental. You need someone who ain’t picky.”

    “I’m not goin’ for a hooker, Kento. You can forget that.”

    “I never said anything about a hooker. Tell me, what do you look for in a girl?”

    Cye thought. “Ehh, she’d have to be understanding. And sympathetic, caring. And have a sense of humor. And cute.”

    “Sexy cute or cute cute?”

    “Doesn’t matter. As long as she’s not a mutant.”

    They laughed together, and Kento flopped down on his back, hands behind his head. Cye watched him and said, “So. How’s about your side of the deal?”

    Kento gave him a sarcastic grin. “I dunno. I mean . . .” His voice fell. “Is it wrong to, y’know, think about . . .”

    “Sleeping with men?”

    “SSHHH!” Kento hissed, and Cye giggled merrily. “Don’t say it so loud!”

    “Kento, every lad goes through that phase at least once in his life.”

    “Does . . . does that make me gay? Thinking those thoughts? Am I bisexual or something? “

    Cye laughed. “Of course not! It’s perfectly natural to wonder what it would be like. Look, I know guys who fool around with girls and call themselves gay. Kento, if I can sleep with a girl and still be gay, you can sleep with a man and still be straight. It’s called discovering your sexuality.”

    Kento brooded. “When did you discover your sexuality?”

    Cye grinned silently. “Probably when I accidentally, well . . . it was more like an experiment, wore my sister’s knickers to school-!”

    Kento burst out laughing and had to hold his sides. Cye was trying to finish between guffaws.

    “And-! And we ‘ad a routine medical examination at school and we ‘ad to take off our clothes-”

    Kento was roaring. “Oh, please! Stop! Oh my God!”

    “-and when my turn came and every boy in the locker room saw me pink flower panties, I thought they would die laughing!”

    “AHA HA HA! I don’t blame ‘em!” After a few moments, Kento managed to regain his breath. “So, that’s when you decided you were gay?”

    “No. A few days after my little escapade, Collin, a friend of mine, came up to me and told me he liked me . . . and ‘e gave me a kiss and told me that it was okay. I . . . and I suddenly felt that as long as there were people like him in this world, I had nothing to be ashamed of.”

    Kento was quiet. “How old were you then?”

    “Twelve.”

    “Woaaaah. So the whole time we were fightin’ Talpa . . . you were gay?”

    Cye smirked. “Yeah, who’da thought a queerbate would end up saving the world?”

    “Why didn’t you tell any of us?”

    He shrugged. “It wasn’t the time.”

    “Well, that’s some consolation. And here I thought Ryo had made you gay-”

    Cye playfully shoved Kento. “You little beast! I’ll admit that I ‘ad a crush on him . . . I still do.”

    “Why didn’t you tell him?”

    “It wasn’t the time.” He changed the subject. “So, what do you look for in a guy?”

    Kento laughed nervously. “Man . . . he’d have to be one fuckin’ cool guy — no! Nonononono, this is too crazy-”

    “Go on!” Cye encouraged. Kento’s eyes darted back and forth.

    “Um . . . he’d have to have a sense of humor. And, uh . . . erm. Be cute and all that jazz.”

    A young man walked by with a surfboard in tote, and Cye arched an eyebrow, watching the sun gleam on the bronzed skin.

    “Ey, there’s one for ya.” He nodded in the young man’s direction. Kento stared for a few seconds, then tore his eyes away.

    “Man, this is so whack. I feel like a pedophile.”

    “You’re not molesting children, Kento. This is what millions of gay lads go through every day, and it’s called ‘looking for someone who won’t criticize me for what I am and love me unconditionally’. It’s not an hard concept to grasp.”

    “Well, since it’ll be a less traumatic experience for you, the honor of going first is yours.”

    “You mean . . . me and a girl?”

    Kento nodded. “And don’t pussy out on me. Shake on it. Agreed?”

    “Agreed.”

    They shook hands tightly and then turned to watch the surf roll in.

    “Now,” Kento said with a grin. “You’ve gotta get met.”

    The bar was noisy and crowded. Kento nudged Cye in the ribs, giving him tips. Cye bashfully stared at his shot glass of scotch and tried to concentrate on what his friend was telling him.

    “Okay, now don’t use a lame pick up line. Be original, and not cheesy. Chicks don’t go for cheesy. Scenario: beautiful girl at the bar, all alone. You . . .”

    “Walk up to her.”

    “And say . . .”

    “Um,” Cye struggled. “It. I, no. I uh, noticed you were alone.”

    “And?”

    “Can . . . I buy you a drink?”

    “Say it like you mean it, and really work the accent. Chicks love guys with an accent.”

    “Me, too.”

    “No, no, no.” Kento shook his head. “Don’t let something like that slip. Say it like you mean it. And gaze into her eyes. Chicks love it when you do that. Don’t be all shy-”

    “But I am shy!”

    “Get over it. Oh.” Kento spotted a black-haired girl sitting at the bar. “I think we have a target.”

    “We’re not going to shoot her, are we?”

    “No.”

    “Then don’t call her a target.”

    “Go get her.”

    Cye blushed.

    “Get a move on, man!” Kento said loudly. “Go, go, go!”

    “I’m not Godzilla.”

    Kento gave him a look that said ‘I will hurt you’ and Cye downed his shot in one gulp and timidly began making his way toward her. He approached clumsily.

    “Uh, ‘ello, love.”

    She looked up and smiled at his accent. “Hey, yourself, Union Jack.”

    Cye blushed fiercely and tried to look into her eyes without coming off as a madman hypnotist. “Uh, ah you alone?”

    “Well, I was waiting for someone . . .” She glanced at her silver watch. “But I guess he’s not coming. I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

    Cye sat down in the stool next to her. “Don’t you hate it when that happens?”

    She nodded forlornly. “Yup.”

    Silence. Cye glanced over to see Kento indicating for him to continue, so Cye did his best; he pretended she was really just a pretty, effeminate boy. “What’s your name, love?”

    “Drew.”

    Cye mentally exhaled. At least her name was unisex. “Andrea?”

    “I like Drew better,” she said.

    “Me, too,” he agreed. You don’t know how much better I like it . . .

    “What’s yours?” she asked with a shy smile.

    “Cye.”

    “Neat name. I hear the British have some funky names, but I like that one.”

    Hopefully you’ll be screaming it later . . .“Thanks . . . um. Can I buy you a drink?”

    She sighed. “Might as well. Since Señor Shitbag hasn’t got the grace to at least make a date, I might as well make due with what I got.” She leaned back and gave him the once over. “Come to think of it, what I got ain’t bad at all. That shirt really brings out your eyes.”

    Cye turned pink. “Oh, this old thing? I got it at GAP.”

    “Really? That’s one of my favorite stores!”

    As they struck up a conversation, Cye managed to wink at Kento privately and flash an unseen victory sign. Kento made a wicked face and thrust his pelvis a few times to indicate what they had agreed to earlier. Cye’s eyes got big and he turned his attention back to Drew.

    “So . . . you wanna swing by my flat later?”

    They were barely through the door of the empty apartment when Drew was suddenly in his arms and kissing Cye. Cye helplessly accepted, shut the door, and moved toward his bedroom, colliding against furniture painfully. Oh, God. Cye, ya really done it now, mate. No turning back.

    They reached his room and stumbled toward the bed. Drew dominantly shoved Cye onto his back and crawled atop his hips, peeling off her one piece dress and leaving her in nothing but her panties. Cye opened one eye, afraid to look. A filled out man’s chest. A man with breast tumors. And hips. And . . . smooth legs. Drew was pulling his shirt open quickly, unbuttoning his pants. She leaned down and licked his nipples, and he shivered. Just like a man. Think of a man, Cye. You can do this . . .

    He groaned, feeling himself become aroused. Drew slipped her panties off and exposed his erection, lowering her body down onto it, into her heat. So. That’s what it feels like. Cye opened his eyes. It was quite a nice fit. All slippery and warm on the inside. No need for lube. Drew moved her hips up and down on his sex and Cye clenched the covers. He still felt weird. Like he didn’t want to touch her. Drew didn’t seem to care; she was doing all the work and becoming short of breath.

    “Nnhhh . . . Cye.” She threw back her head, quickening her pace. “Ohhh! Unnhhh, yes. Yes, Cye . . .”

    Cye felt himself begin to lose control and he shut his eyes tight, concentrating on this carnal delight and trying to think of Ryo, and how he wished he could do this same thing to him . . . but . . . Cye turned his head away and found himself staring at his bedside table, upon which was a picture in a glass frame. Himself and Kento when they were in New York city.

    Black and white photo, just the two of them. Kento was striking his Marlon Brando pose in a black leather jacket, cigarette hanging from his lips and brow wrinkled in the light of the setting sun. Cye was standing behind him with one arm around his shoulder and gazing out toward Ellis Island. Neither were looking at the camera. Like it was taken by accident. Ryo certainly had his father’s eye when it came to pictures for his father used to be a wildlife photographer. Ryo himself took the photo, and it was gorgeous.

    So why did Cye suddenly envision Kento instead of Ryo?

    The tension became too much; with a guttural moan, Cye reached the edge of ecstasy and came in a gasping fit of shudders. Drew came shortly thereafter, screaming profanities and his name at the top of her lungs.

    Outside Cye’s bedroom, Kento was crouched with his ear to the door, laughing as silently as he possibly could.

    The next morning, Cye came down to breakfast with his hair sticking in all directions and his face pinched from sleeping. He squinted at the bright light of the kitchen and shivered, dressed in only pajama pants and a wife beater, or husband beater in his case.

    Kento, sitting at the kitchen table and troughing out on a banana nut muffin, smiled and exclaimed, “Here is the MAN! Woo hoo!” He did the bowing gesture, chanting, “Bow down to the baiser de femmes! I heard you two goin’ at it last night like a UNH! UNH! And that chick was screamin-” Kento made a high voice and batted his eyelashes. “-fuck me, Cye! Fuck me!”

    Cye grinned despite himself and threw an orange at Kento’s face; he caught it with one hand, still smiling. Cye put on some water for tea and sat down at the table, blinking himself awake.

    “So, how’d it go?”

    Cye looked up, face blank. “It was . . . okay.” He looked at his lap. “But it . . . I felt so distant from her. It seemed like we was just mating. Like the animals, instead of making love. But it was alright.”

    Kento nodded once. “Yeah, well, that’s the way it’s s’posed to be. Quick and purposeful.”

    “She didn’t even stay ofter we finished. She just . . . left.”

    “Like you’ve never had a guy do that to you?” Kento arched an eyebrow.

    “No. I’ve had three relationships that were sexual, but they lasted. I always woke up next to him in the morning. It makes you feel loved.”

    Kento looked away, processing what Cye said with an almost guilty expression of admittance. Then he glanced up at his best friend with a stiff upper lip and nodded once. “I understand.”

    Cye smiled. “You still hav to keep your end of the deal.”

    Kento choked on his muffin. “You! You’re serious!?”

    “I did it, bunky,” Cye glowered. “You’ll do it, too.” He paused. “Do you have any spandex?”

    The pair of pals walked into the Blue Rose and took in the sights, for one of the pair, his first time at a gay bar. Kento glanced around with the look of a hunted animal, a very nervous expression on his face. As if it weren’t bad enough being an open target in a place like this, Cye had dressed him up in tight jeans and an equally tight purple raglan sleeve shirt that Kento felt was . . . far too thin.

    “It’s a little cold in here,” he huffed, crossing his arms. Cye turned to look at him and smirked.

    “Beamers, mate?”

    “We call ‘em headlights here, and only girls have headlights.”

    “Apparently not. C’mon, I’ll show you round.”

    It was certainly a new experience, to put it mildly. There was a drag queen providing live entertainment up on stage, and Kento stared. There were waiters walking around dressed in hardly anything but tight leather and straps, and Kento stared. There was a host of what he dreaded to call men (for they looked so effeminate that he could hardly tell) milling about in the crowd, and Kento stared.

    Cye elbowed him. “Don’t stare, love.”

    “I’m not staring,” Kento snapped. “I’m observing . . . and you’ve never called me ‘love’.”

    “I call everybody ‘love’.”

    “Yeah, well,” Kento faltered. “Don’t. I’m kinda on the anxious side right now.”

    “Fair enough.”

    They took a seat at the bar, and Cye began to give Kento a crash tutorial in gay “activities”.

    “Alright, first thing’s first. Always use protection. If anyone asks if you’re seme or uke-”

    “What’s that mean?”

    “Top and bottom. If anyone asks you that’, tell ‘em you can do either. And if anyone offers a rimjob, say yes, but not if you’re the one doing it. You do know what that is, right?”

    Kento was desperately searching for an exit by this time when a handsome young fellow sat down next to him. Cye pretended to be staring at a group of high-school aged guys, giving Kento plenty of privacy while still remaining close.

    “You come here often, sweet heart?” the young man asked with a smile. Kento gulped.

    “Uh, n-no. This is my first time here.” This is my first time, period.

    “Oh, I see. Fresh fish. Well, can I buy you a drink, hun?”

    The lad smiled and leaned over, casually placing his hand on Kento’s knee. Kento jumped up and grabbed Cye’s sleeve roughly.

    “Uh, I-I gotta be g-going now,” he stammered frantically, hustling Cye away toward the door. “Maybe next time!”

    When they were out into the cool evening air, Cye turned to Kento and frowned.

    “Why’d you do that? He was a good catch!”

    Kento shook his head. “No. There . . . it was too crowded in there. I don’t . . . I just can’t do it, Cye. Call me a lying, two-timing, double-crossing, back-stabbing bastard, but I just can’t do it.” He gazed up at his friend with a hurt expression. “I’m sorry.”

    Cye nodded and sighed. “I understand. I understand you completely.”

    They walked toward the car in the darkness, Kento beginning to blabber on and on, feeling guilty after standing up his end of the deal while Cye went through with it. He felt like a really shitty friend right about now.

    “I mean, I feel really bad for making you try it straight. I know you’re gay, and I had no right to force you to do something that violated your-”

    “Kento.” Cye stopped walking. “It’s alright. I needed some experience anyway.”

    “But I still feel . . . I feel like I’ve done you wrong. Before tonight, I could always keep my end of the deal.”

    Cye gave him a grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

    Kento sighed and they both got into the car, shutting the doors and sitting in the dark. Cye didn’t start the car right away; just put his hands on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead for a while in silence.

    “You . . . you look really nice tonight.”

    “Thanks,” Kento mumbled, still feeling like a traitor. Cye turned slightly to gaze at him and said nothing. Then he began to slowly lean towards Kento.

    Cye, what are you doing, man? Are you going to do what I think you’re going to . . . ?

    Kento tensed up like a steel trap, riveted to his seat. Cye’s lips brushed against his own, lightly. He could feel the warm breath hovering on his mouth, and Kento’s head swam.

    No way. No way no way no way . . .

    But he wasn’t listening to his mind this time. Here lay his retribution. Here was a person who he had known for so long and understood him better than any person he thought he-

    Kento closed his eyes and parted his lips, allowing Cye to slip his tongue inside his mouth. A mass of screaming butterflies rolled over in his stomach and he kissed back. And somehow, he didn’t feel so strange. As suddenly as the kiss began, it ended, and Cye pulled away and resumed staring straight ahead.

    “Shit.”

    Neither knew who spoke it, for it sounded to be in unison . . . or maybe . . . that’s just the way they imagined it. Together.

    “Feel weird?” Cye said softly.

    “Actually.” Kento turned his head and murmured, “No.”

    Breath. Sigh. Gasp.

    They kissed again and fell on the covers. Fingers in his hair. His hands around the slender waist.

    Breath. Sigh. Gasp.

    It was so beautiful. He was so beautiful. They were so beautiful. Everything was transformed into something glorious and sparkling, glowing and warm, comforting and compassionate.

    Breath. Cye. Gasp.

    Sex became a symphony of soft moans, cries, sobs, and heaving gasps for air. It became a well-read book of skin, warmth, sweat, and passion. It became them, and they became it. It was not something they did; it was something they were.

    “Keh, Kento . . .”

    He looked down into the sea-green eyes, swollen with unspilled tears, and he smiled gently, reassuringly. Cye mirrored his expression and closed his eyes. Kento leaned down and placed a gentle, soft kiss on his lips, wondering if lovers could still be considered friends.

    If they couldn’t, then the rule was rewritten that night.

    Kento awoke slowly and blinked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. It took a while for the reality of what happened last night to sink in, and he glanced over in the bed next to him. He saw Cye, his best friend and now so much more to him, curled up in a warm little ball, his brunette hair cascading over his forehead and covering his eyes. He sighed and stirred a little, nestling down further into the blanket. Kento gazed with a blank look on his face.

    I slept with him. I slept with my best friend. I actually slept with another guy . . .

    He stopped thinking about it and crawled out of bed, pulling his jeans on and not bothering to button them up. He went to the lavatory and stood before the mirror, staring at himself for a few minutes. Then he splashed some warm water on his face and gripped the sides of the sink, watching the water drip from his nose and roll down the drain. He decided to take a shower.

    Kento emerged twenty minutes later and found the bed empty. He pulled on some clothes, dragged a comb through his wet hair, and went out to the kitchen.

    Cye was sitting at the kitchen table in boxer shorts and a long sleeve tee shirt, eating a bowl of cereal and reading the back of the box. He looked up as Kento entered, and said nothing. Kento met his eyes, then was forced to look away. What if he saw his thoughts? What if he knew how he felt? Would they ever be the same again?

    He sat down across from Cye and poured himself a bowl of the bland-looking cereal, then stared at it.

    “I’m making muffins,” Cye said gently. “They’re instant . . . but they’re the good kind.”

    Kento didn’t respond, but he looked up. Cye swallowed with some difficulty and asked the question Kento was forcing him to spit out. “So. How was it?”

    “It was . . . interesting,” Kento responded flatly.

    Cye began to fiddle with his spoon before timidly asking, “Did you like it?”

    Kento stared at him with a hard expression, eyes squinted, and Cye suddenly wished he hadn’t said a word.

    “What, like we’ll ever do it again?” He trailed off and shook his head in disbelief. Cye looked down into his cereal bowl and swallowed the hard knot that had formed in his throat. Blinking rapidly. Kento watched him with a calculating gaze for a few moments. Then his face changed.

    “Who knows?” Kento smiled. “Maybe we will.”

     

A/N: Based on a short online movie hosted by Iflick. Cye’s accent was all kinds of Cockney-fucked up in this, so I had to fix it. Also, I can almost guarantee that this is the first and last fic written by me in which Cye will ever get pussy.