Sexy Gay Stories - Volume Four - three m/m short stories

camera would spit a monster back at me when the photos were developed.
    Simon stared at me as if seeing past the first layer of Gilbert. I felt like an onion. His dark brown eyes were stripping me layer by layer and the fists in my pockets twisted with nerves. Fuck.
    ‘The scars will look lovely in black and white,’ he said.
    Something dark and hard shifted in my chest and I pushed down the rage. Who the fuck was he to talk about my scars? I swallowed. I would not give in. I would not feel that anger and that grief. This was supposed to be fun. 
    Beatrice whined and looked at me with drunken hollow eyes. Only a Saint Bernard could have those eyes and look cute. She made a sad noise in her chest like she could read my mind. ‘I’m not worried about it,’ I lied.
    ‘Will you take your shirt off for me?’ he asked softly. His blush returned. As hot and intense as a summer sunset. 
    I grinned at that and whipped it off over my head. I let the white T-shirt drop around my busted up boots. Every insecurity I had about my face was balanced by a confidence in my chest. Many gym hours had earned me a chest I didn’t think twice about showing. A shrink would tell me I was making up for one with the other. That’s why I don’t have a shrink.
    Simon blinked, blinked, blinked and then he licked his lips. He looked nervous and turned on and awkward and sweet. I smiled at him and he smiled back. ‘Um, yes. Thank you. That’s good.’ 
    He only said good but my cock stirred in my jeans. A subtle pleasure at his soft spoken words of praise. ‘Thanks, man.’
    Simon laughed at that. A short, deep bark that I would never had expected from his straight-laced self. ‘Let’s just take a few shots and see.’ His voice was much more confident when the camera was up to his eye and his finger was on the trigger.
    I didn’t know what to do, so I just stared. Stared at the camera and tried to shield my soul. Every time the bright flash strobed I heard the sound of fist meeting bone. I heard the crunch in my head the first time Richard broke my nose. I heard the cuts and digs coming off my loving partner’s lips, whore, asshole, dick, stupid, retard, loser. I felt the stab of numbing needles in the ER and the bright light blinding me as they stitched over my eye, or repaired my busted lip. I stared at the camera and came unglued. 
    I took out one, two, three glass frames and Simon just stood there and waited.
    I was panting and bleeding and I looked around slowly, coming to the surface too fast like a diver who was destined to get the bends. ‘Jesus fucking Christ, Simon. I’m sorry,’ I managed and I came apart completely, sinking to his studio floor amid the glass and paper. A bitter taste flooded my mouth and I knew it was fear.
    ‘It’s OK, Gilbert,’ he said so softly I was half convinced I imagined it.
    ‘No one calls me Gilbert,’ I said distractedly. ‘It’s Gil. Gil. And I will pay for all of this.’ I sobbed a little when I said it. The full impact of the anger I had unleashed was sinking in and I felt out of control. The monster somehow unleashed by accident. 
    ‘It’s OK. Really.’ Simon sank to his knees and touched the scar that nearly bisected my face. Not quite in half. It started on the inside of my right eyebrow and ran down the inside of my nose. It tore through my lip and my chin like a line of demarcation. 
    I flinched as if he’d punched me and Beatrice whined softly, shifting away from me as if I were toxic. I couldn’t blame her. I felt a black surge of anger swell in me and I clenched my fists to keep it down. ‘I think I should go.’
    ‘Don’t go,’ he said and put the camera down. When he undid my jeans I muttered arguments. My mouth gave him reasons not to but my hips rose up to convince him to go ahead. His lips on me were a hot peach coloured heaven. His tongue on my cock the best memory eraser I had ever had. Better than drugs or booze or bar fights. Sweet and slow and there. He was all there the whole time. No agenda, no manipulation. No nice words backed up by harsh punches and nasty words. Just him licking me until I jittered across the scarred hardwood floor like a maniac.
    I was right on that torturous cusp. Hovering on that white hot orgasm and it wasn’t enough. The glass whispered around me as I shifted, gathering my strength like a storm as I hauled him around and onto his knees. Gratitude and pleas falling from my lips as I wrangled with his sharp creased