My Best Friend the Faggot

"What a view!" she proclaimed. Her name was Ava and she and I had been dating for three months now. For this anniversary I booked a room in the hotel I worked at, because of the discount of course. I didn't love her, no she me I believe, but for now that didn't matter. I needed a fresh start. Away from mindless sex with bodies I didn't remember. Away from Marc. Tonight will be the night she and I will do it for the first time. I chose to wait. I wanted my next time to be with someone I respected. Someone I cared for. A girl I cared for.

I must say, the break from sex was easier than I had anticipated. Once Ava and I made our dating exclusive I had something to hold on to. Suddenly the thirsty single women who stared at my pants didn't look so tempting. Suddenly my balls didn't need to unload three times a week in a wet pussy. I was fine. I had changed. This was the life I wanted to lead now. Tonight I'd make love to her and I could leave all my confusion and doubts behind me.

As for Marc, he and I hadn't spoken since that wedding. I was glad to be free of him. Whatever happened in that hotel room and in that cellar were mistakes. Tricks by him to live out his disgusting fantasies. I didn't care he was gay I just can't believe he made me fuck a man's asshole. The thought made my stomach turn in revulsion. No, this was better. We were just friends. Colleagues. Nothing worth remembering happened between us. I was with Ava now.

I nodded my head to the door, signaling it was time to get our complementary dinner my boss had provided for me.

"Can't we stay? We could order in," she proclaimed. Damnit. There it was. I had seen it a couple of times but she had respected my wish to wait. A look of temptation and lust. She was so sexy in her black dress. Old me would have kneeled before her and eaten her wet. But not grown me. He could wait a bit longer. I reached out my hand, flashed that smile that always worked for some reason and took her downstairs. I didn't tell her I knew Marc was working tonight and didn't want to risk seeing him if we ordered room-service.

The hotel restaurant wasn't all that special. It was part of the old building, with broad beams at inconvenient places. There weren't enough lamps in the entire hotel to lit this dark space. Yet we had dressed it as modern as we could and for a third month anniversary it certainly sufficed. Ava smiled and talked of her work as a campaign manager. As fascinating as I found it I never quite understood what she did. She was smarter than me. I was just a simple lad. Give me a YouTube video to explain it or else I get bored. I grinned at the memory of the heated debates me and Marc had over conspiracy video's. A spark tingled in my stomach and I ignored it. I could hear his laugh as if it was beside me.

"Good evening, welcome to..." his laugh stopped in his throat. Every muscle in my body tensed up. There he was. Dressed in a cheap suit, trying to cover his rounded features of his ever unfit body. His eyes shot from me to Ava and back to me. What the fuck was he doing here? He wasn't allowed to wait tables at the restaurant.

"You're the in-house guest?" he asked with that faggy voice of him. Ava laughed confirming.

"Well the chef has a special menu prepared for you, the sommelier will come for wine recommendations. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask," he rushed through his mandatory greetings and left us as quickly as he had arrived. I shouldn't be surprised he was working waiting tables. He had such natural friendliness over him. Unlike me, with my sharp features and angry look, Marc was instantly liked by everyone. A sadness waded over me when he left the table. I didn't realize how much I missed being around him.

"Excuse me I have to go to the bathroom," I said to Ava. I turned the corner to the kitchen and saw Marc giving his tables, our table, to Olga. He left without looking and it felt like someone stomped on my heart. I had kept my distance but I didn't realize he was keeping his too. I knew he was going for a smoke so I cut through the hotel lobby to the backdoor.

Indeed, in the dirty, windowless smoking room he was burning down a sigaret faster than lighter fluid. There was the friend I knew and loved. Tortured, awkward, drowned in his own world. Was it me who was torturing him?

"Congratulations on the new job," I said, causing him to jump back into his body. "You could've told me, you know." I flashed my smile, in an attempt at reconciliation.

"Why? We're not friends anymore," he quipped. Damn. That hurt. There we went again. Him forever vulnerable and in his feelings, angering me. Didn't he understand I had to stay away to save our friendship?

"Fine, be a little bitch," I said, turning around. I didn't care for his whiny ass complaints. He wasn't my girlfriend, Ava was. He had no right to complain. God he was such a faggot. Weak and soft.

"I'm not the one running away," it sounded behind me. His voice suddenly lost all dreariness. It was stern, confident. It was kinda sexy. I turned around.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" I had to show him who's boss. He had no power over me anymore.

"Go to your girlfriend. I don't want to see or talk to you ever again. I'm done, you hear me?" he straightened his back. It filled me with more anger. He was going to play tough guy with me? With me? I clenched my fists and wanted to turn away, but doing what he told me to do hurt my pride. So instead I marched forward. He didn't move. I stepped closer and in a brief second I thought about kissing him again, the way I did before. And just when my muscles gave in to the craving, he hit me with his fist.

It was more of a touch. Marc had stood alongside me like the loyal friend he is, but he hadn't won a fight a day in his life. It didn't even hurt. Still. He never would've dared before.

"Don't fucking come near me Marc, we're done." I saw him. He knew I saw him. He knew I looked right past the façade into the sad, lonely boy I knew him to be. The one whom I befriended and connected with in our isolation from the world. The one I swore never to abandon. But instead of pity, my body filled with unadulterated rage.

I threw his body against the wall and missed his face by a hair with my fist.

"You're done with me huh you fucking homo!" I yelled. I wanted to beat him bloody but I refrained myself.

"You ruined everything! You and you're disgusting habits." I was so beside myself I wanted to punish him for ruining what we had. For ruining me. I grabbed him by his nuts, as if I could squeeze the gay out of him and make him a man. My grip sent him squealing and standing on his toes.

"Don't you know what you've done to me?" I said, my voice breaking. Why the fuck was I getting emotional. Fuck, why did he always get me where I had no control.

Marc was outright sobbing and my heart broke in a thousand pieces. How the fuck did we get here? I wanted to hug him and keep him safe, not be the one who hurt him.

"Is that what you tell yourself? That it was me? Fine. Do that. Let me be the gay guy who tricked his best friend and ruined the friendship. Just let it end," he begged through his tears, with drama that made me feel like I was in high school again. I let go of his crotch at the sight of my best mate returning to a slobbering mess. What had I done.

"I can't do it anymore," he cried. "I can't let you have sex with me, thinking that we have something real. Thinking that you feel it too. Only for you to hurt me again. I can't do it." He looked me in the eye and a part of me wanted to scream. It wanted to scream how ashamed it made me feel that I had been inside him. And despite all that... how much I had felt it too. That moment when we were one, that feeling of being whole as a human being. The feeling I can only describe as love. I wanted to say how badly I wanted to run away with him and make him happy. But I couldn't do it.

"Just go," is all I could whisper. His face clenched up and he hid it behind his hands. He walked away and out of my life. Or so I thought.

When I came upstairs, my soul was gone. It was like I was a robot, living someone else's life. A life I did not want and was meaningless without Marc. I sat down in front of Ava and didn't notice she had packed her bags and had her coat on.

"I should've known you were a faggot," she said and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. She must have seen the shock on my face.

"What kind of man fucks his best friend up the shit hole. That's fucking nasty," and up she stood. "Queer" she murmered as she walked away. I wanted to cry or punch up the table. Either one would suffice. He told her. How the fuck could he tell her. My despair over losing him was quickly replaced with anger.

I stormed into the kitchen but he wasn't there. I raced up to my room. I was going to quit my job. I was going to take that road trip I always wanted and get the fuck out of here. Go somewhere where no girl knew what I had done. Where I... where my best friend wasn't a fucking faggot!

I stormed through the hotel room door. Ava had ravished the place, grabbing all her stuff. She left her deodorant. And a t-shirt. It took me a full minute before I saw him standing near the window. Smoking a cigarette. Calmly looking out onto the city. He was wearing nothing but a string. I couldn't believe my eyes. Ava must've left it in her haste. I had so many questions.

"I didn't expect you to let me go," he said. Still looking out. "You're so toxic. Hitting me. Lying to yourself. I thought you'd kill me before you'd let me go." He turned to me. He will never not look like a nerd to me. And in that thong that was way too small, he looked even funnier. And yet, I wanted to kiss his entire body.

"I was ready to quit my job when I realized... you must really love me if you were willing to let me go." There was no going back now. The words were out. The truth laid bare like his body in front of me. As always I fell short on what to say so I followed my instinct. I rushed to him, ready to kiss him. But he hit me again. This time with a flat hand and it ringed my bell. The slap echoing through my head.

I looked back at him. The weak little faggot was confident and sure of what he wanted. He had always been sure. Our eyes were locked in each other's depths of despair. I pushed him and he nearly fell. He hit me again. When I looked back, his eyes were filled with lust. As were mine. He jumped into my arms and I had to take a step to keep his heavy body in the air. Our faces were so close we breathed each other in.

I threw him on the bed and jumped on top of him. I looked him in the eye for a second before I devoured his mouth with mine. Our tongues attacking each other with violent haste. He tore my pants down, making the buttons pop. I pushed my shorts down releasing my hard cock. He started to take the panties off but I ripped them open. I rested my hard dick on his warm puckered hole. We exchanged looks and I jammed it in.

He screamed in agony as did I. It was dry, reluctant. I leaned forward, towering over him and pushed myself deeper into him. Together we grunted in pain. This is the way it had to be. This is the way it had always been. I didn't wait until my cock was buried completely in his eyes before I started pounding. He wrapped his legs around my thin body as much as he could and held me in his arms. I wrapped my arms around his body too.

Our flesh was burning from rubbing together, but both of us quickly moaned in pleasure. I drilled his asshole as hard as I could and savored every touch of being inside a man with my dick. Then I did something I would've never imagined myself doing. I reached down and grabbed his cock in my hand. It felt strangely natural, like it was my own. I started jerking it.

My pace increased even harder. I was drilling him like I had no girl before. The feeling of my dick in that tight ring made me lose all senses and my body slammed at full speed against his bubbly butt. It was like my dick and his hole sent bursts of energy into my heart. I felt still. Where I needed to be. With him. In him. I felt my orgasm building and started to moan louder. I jerked harder and Marc started screaming in ecstasy. And just as I thought my cockhead was going to burn off from sliding in and out him so fast I screamed and blew my load deep into his guts. His dick spewed cum all over my hand. I kept shooting inside of him while my body fell into his arms. Exhausted, elated.

I looked at him, a spent bitch faggot, and he looked at me, a fucking faggot, and we kissed deeply. Finally, our souls colliding in an explosive expression of a love that crossed friendship and romance and pornographic sex. Two boys, in pain and pleasure. Together.