Hate | Love

Before That Damn Shower Scene

Chapter 11 1/2

***

He sat on his bed.

Arguing with himself, Type was alone in the dorm room, not expecting his roommate anytime soon.

"What does he think he is?" he spoke aloud, flinging the words to the ceiling as he clutched at the pillow, his back to the headboard, his legs spread forward, his face a mask of conflicting emotions, "Why would he say that? Why would he whisper that there are better ways than to do it in his mouth? What the fuck does he mean?"

He could hear Tharn's husky voice in his head saying stuff that kept on repeating over and over again that it felt like he was constantly hearing his roommate taunt him with more seductive images.

"I can make you feel better than just using my mouth."

"There are ways to feel so much more than just my lips."

"I can make you feel so much more..."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Type swore, his fingernails digging into the soft pillow, his stomach feeling as if a family of butterflies were currently struggling out of their cocoons, "I dying," he wailed, exasperated at what his thoughts were feeding him; whatever it was he did, either he was eating, sleeping, walking, in class or on the football field, all he could think about was Tharn and his words and what those words could mean.

He felt like a teenaged girl fawning over a K-Pop idol, except that he was thinking not of an almond eyed Oppa but a blue-eyed, light brown haired, half breed that set his mind and loins on fire as soon as even just the idea of him entered his mind – and that was almost all the time now.

"Shia," Type grabbed his head with both hands as if it was ready to explode, "As much as I try to get away from him, the voices and his presence somehow feels nearer, I could not escape. I am failing, it's over for me!" again, he grabbed the pillow that was already bunched from all the grabbing he has been doing.

"Dad," he growled, talking to the pillow as if it was his parent, "This is your fault for not allowing me to live off campus! See what this roommate is doing to me, I am helpless. This is embarrassing. I should hate him. No, I hate that damn bastard!" Type crushed the pillow with enough force that it almost tore.

For someone who spent the last several year hating everything gay, the conflicting emotions that he had been feeling felt like a mental breakdown but every time he saw Tharn, his heart raced. Even far from the presence of the charming drummer, he was hopelessly thinking about him and his dick felt like it had a mind of his own. Like a boy scout, it went on full attention and gave a salute as soon as Tharn's face came into mind.

"My fucking though process is a mess," Type continued to reprimand himself, he wanted to smack his head on the wall with all the scenarios that kept flashing in his mind, "No, no, no goddammit, Ai'Tharn, I will not bend down and give you my back as a present!" he barked at the fan that continued to whirl above him, the air from which caressed his body like the touch of a lover.

"I will not be a bottom!" Type gripped the pillow, "I will definitely top you, you Ai'Bastard!"

"Shia, what am I thinking about?" the young man who vowed to hate gays was stunned that he was thinking about sexual positions, in frustration and irritation with himself, he threw the pillow that he was violating straight across to the bed of the one person who has been filling his mind with lustful thoughts and conflicting emotions for the past several days, "What are you doing to me? Damn you! You white, dirty, bastard whose eyes can make me do things that I DO NOT WANT TO DO!"