Opening up in New Orleans

Author's Note: Bourbon Street might look a little different now than when I last visited New Orleans and lived elements of this story out as an undergrad, but the two gay bars I spent the night crossing between are apparently still there. Almost all of the action will be in the second chapter.

Dakota felt his relationship with Trent fraying more with every second they spent trapped together in the car.

"Fuck, there's no way I can get over there now," Trent mumbled, glaring as he peered over to his boyfriend's face. "You realize you need to give me more time to merge, right?"

They were trying to stop for food almost five hours into their journey, and now it was the latest battle of half a dozen they'd already fought. "I told you it was exit 13 five minutes ago!" Dakota objected, rolling his eyes. Trent always wanted him to navigate and spit out directions like a GPS when they were in the car, but he never listened well. "You didn't even try to start getting over until I saw the ramp. And of course you didn't have enough time, because you insisted on staying in the left lane even though you knew we were close."

Trent's hands gripped the steering wheel harder. "You're supposed to be looking at the map," he said dismissively.

Dakota let out an annoyed sigh. "I'm supposed to be looking at the map constantly? No, you're supposed to start paying attention to the signs when I tell you the exit number!" He stared out the glass of his metal cage, appreciating the gorgeous blue of the cloudless sky stretching above, the healthy, brilliant green hues of the trees and grass lining the highway. Everything beyond the window was perfect and lively compared to the pronounced decay festering in the car.

"Let's get off at the next exit and we can trek back," Trent suggested, trying to sound conciliatory.

His boyfriend scoffed, not bothering to look over. "I'm not giving you any more directions. Use your own fucking phone if you want to know where to go." He was being petty right now, but he'd already endured enough. He knew Trent was glaring at him again.

"Really? Obviously we both need to eat. You're a bitch when you're hungry."

"You're being the fucking bitch right now," Dakota muttered, lowering his window all the way down and letting the humid outside air blow into the car.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Trent complained. "It's hot as fuck out there and I have the air conditioning on!"

"Whatever, I don't care." Dakota finally glanced over.

His boyfriend angrily shook his head, his eyes flaring. "How about we just turn around and go home then? I'm sick of being in this car with you."

Dakota seriously considered the offer as he stared down at his phone, scanning the maps app. "We're two hours away now. It's going to take five to drive back." He didn't want to spend that much time trapped in hell, even if he wasn't the least bit excited about visiting New Orleans anymore. "Let's just keep going."

"Then tell me where I'm supposed to fucking go!" Trent snapped.

The boys had been dating for the last two years, enduring plenty of rough patches before, but Dakota knew they were definitely hanging by a thread now. They'd been lodged in petty bickering for weeks, Dakota finally starting to mentally acknowledge that they were never going to work their problems out. Deciding what to make for dinner or what to watch on TV inevitably turned into a bitter argument, their vicious brawls not even yielding makeup sex anymore. They barely had sex at all. They barely kissed each other. Trent was never horny and never in the mood when Dakota tried, except for maybe one time every two or three weeks when they'd finally spend fifteen minutes fucking. It was never satisfying after the long wait. More recently, Trent had refused his boyfriend's advances for an entire month, even denying Dakota when he'd patiently waited for Trent to come home ass up in a jockstrap on their kitchen floor. After that disappointment, trying felt pointless. Dakota completely gave the effort up.

The drought was driving him insane, the mere sight of a hot guy sufficient to get his dick hard. He stared at random men everywhere: in class, on the bus, even when he was out with Trent eating at a restaurant or shopping in a store. Dakota was consuming more porn than he ever had in his life, jerking off at least three times a day, Trent enraged every time he barged into their bedroom and witnessed the event.

"You're looking at porn again?" he'd growled a week ago, folding his arms against his chest and appearing displeased. "You're always looking at porn. Am I not enough for you?"

"You never want to fuck!" Dakota shouted back incredulously, shocked that Trent was seriously suggesting he should be satisfied with absolutely nothing. Apparently his simple existence was supposed to be enough.

"Well, you never ask!"

Dakota laughed hysterically at that bold claim, staring fiercely into his boyfriend's eyes. "I asked you all the time, Trent. I literally gave up after a month of constantly being told no. And you never come on to me. Never! Don't try to act like you do. You can't be mad at me for being horny! What else am I supposed to do about it?"

Instead of confronting their troubles, Trent rolled his eyes and stormed away. "Whatever," he called back, slamming the door shut.

That's what he always did. He seemed incapable of talking through their problems. Relationships weren't supposed to be like this. Dakota had found himself thinking that countless times in the two years they'd been dating, the first doubt creeping into his mind only a month after they'd met. Trent was his first boyfriend, though, Dakota having no other experience to draw on. He always overcame his hesitation and persevered, hoping the situation might eventually improve. He still felt like he loved Trent and he genuinely cared about the guy, but he wasn't happy. He barely remembered happiness, a state of mind that had gradually drained away within the first few months of moving into an apartment together. Sharing a place and spending more of their lives with each other, instead of bringing the couple closer, was forcing the boys even further apart. Love wasn't enough. Dakota had cried his eyes out an untold number of times trying to imagine how he might break up with Trent, even beginning to start the conversation on a few occasions, always faltering when he worried he might be making a mistake. He knew he was miserable staying with Trent, but he was afraid he'd be even more miserable without him.

Trent was certainly well aware of the discord. He'd pitched and meticulously planned the trip to New Orleans, a city neither of them had ever visited, explicitly saying they needed a fresh start. Dakota knew his boyfriend was a diehard romantic, a guy hopelessly attracted to the idea that getting away and exploring a new place together might reinvigorate their rocky relationship and make them fall in love all over again. The vicious clashes in the car that had dotted the last five hours made his optimistic dream seem like a stupid and totally forlorn fantasy. With every mile, with every biting snipe at each other, Dakota seriously wondered if they'd even last the drive, but maybe that was for the best. He was exhausted with settling for their constant dysfunction. In his heart, he knew he was ready for the relationship to end.

The guys had met on Tinder when Dakota was 19 and Trent was 20, their profiles both blatantly advertising that they were interested in more than just a sweaty fling. They were opposites in most ways: Dakota was 5'10", blond and blue eyed, smooth-faced, his thin body toned but nearly hairless, all his skin as pale as a ghost; Trent was 6'1", with brown hair and brown eyes, muscular and hairy, his flesh tinted with an olive Mediterranean complexion. Dakota definitely thought the guy was cute as he scrolled through his pictures, and evidently he felt the same way.

Trent invited Dakota to lunch on campus the next day, the younger guy gleefully accepting. He was too shy to ask anyone out himself, most of his interactions never moving beyond brief and stilted texting. The boys clicked instantly when they met, realizing they were both history majors and immediately starting to compare notes on professors they'd both had. Trent, a year ahead of Dakota since he was a junior, doled out advice on who and what the younger guy should avoid when he registered for his classes next semester. They discovered a shared passion for literature, having a deep conversation about the books they'd read taking the same non-history elective as freshmen.

Trent was still living in a dorm room despite being an upperclassmen, constantly suffering for privacy, but Dakota shared a spacious place off campus with a roommate. "Want to come over for a drink later?" he'd suggested. He wasn't old enough to buy booze himself at that point, but Dakota's roommate had scored him a bottle of tequila. He instantly wondered if he'd ever see Trent again when he saw hesitation on his face.

"I really would love to come over," Trent had said, "but I already made plans for tonight. Maybe some other time I can?"

"Oh yeah, sure," Dakota agreed. He'd heard that line a few times before in two years of attempting to date, any man who uttered it either never bothering to text him back or quickly blowing him off. He was disappointed walking out of the restaurant, shaking Trent's hand one last time, resigned to never spending another moment with the guy despite the chemistry they seemed to share.

After a couple hours spent feeling rejected, Dakota's phone chimed. So I just canceled on my friend. You still willing to have me over tonight? They'd traded numbers when they set up their date the night before.

His face had lit up seeing the message. Yeah, he texted back. I'm free all night.

An hour later, Trent was walking into Dakota's apartment. "Wow," he mumbled, seeming taken aback by the amount of space. "This is a really nice place!"

"Thanks," Dakota answered, smiling as he led the guy through the living room to the kitchen, motioning for him to sit at one of the bar stools. "You want a margarita?"

"Yeah, sure!" he said eagerly.

Dakota fetched a pair of elegant margarita glasses out of one of the cabinets, setting them down on the counter in front of Trent.

"You even have the glasses!" Trent said like he was impressed.

He shrugged. "Well, my roommate does, but she won't mind us using them."

"You live with a girl? That's awesome. One of my roommates is obnoxiously homophobic." Trent rolled his beautiful brown eyes.

"You have more than one roommate?" Dakota asked with surprise as he pulled tequila and margarita mix out of the fridge.

"The dorm room is like a suite," Trent explained as Dakota eyeballed pours of liquor. "Basically an apartment on campus with three separate bedrooms, except we don't have a kitchen."

Dakota dumped the margarita mix in next, filling the glasses to the top. "Oh, nice! Saves you from having to ride the bus." He opened a drawer, pulling out a spoon and starting to mix, the metal clanking loudly against the glass.

Trent grinned. "Yeah, I love where my room is. It never takes me more than ten minutes to walk to class. I definitely miss having a kitchen, though." He scanned the huge space in front of him like he was genuinely sad.

"You can cook? All I ever do is burn stuff here," Dakota said, sliding one of the margaritas over. "I'm not kidding, I literally started a fire once."

He was laughing heartily. "I mean, who hasn't done that? Cooking is easy, though. You just need someone to teach you!"

Dakota was smiling, feeling like Trent was volunteering to be the one who would, lifting his drink up as Trent followed.

"Cheers!" Trent toasted, their glasses clinking together as the boys each took a sip. "That's pretty good," he complimented.

The statement was probably meaningless, but Dakota beamed anyway, assuming the 21-year-old knew more than he did about mixing drinks. "I hope so, because I definitely don't know how to make anything else with tequila." They both laughed and drank more.

"I'm really sorry I said I couldn't come earlier," Trent apologized. "I promised my best friend we were going to hang out, and she always gets really mad if I try to ditch her. But I couldn't stop thinking about how cute you were while I was sitting in class today. I decided it was worth it." He grinned sheepishly before lifting his glass to his lips again.

Dakota felt himself blushing hearing Trent call him cute. "You're really cute too," he whispered shyly.

A warm smile spread across the guy's face. "Don't you want to sit down too?"

Dakota walked around the counter, sitting in the stool next to Trent as they slowly drank their margaritas and started talking about books again. Hot jocks were always nice to look at, but this is what he'd always craved in a guy.

"You know, I was thinking about something else all day too," Trent said as he drained his glass and plunked it down on the counter. "Something I should have done when we left that restaurant." He looked seriously into Dakota's blue eyes, slowly leaning into him as their lips pressed together for the first time.

The kiss was magical, goosebumps sticking up all over Dakota's body as the boys almost immediately started to slide their tongues passionately together. Their hands were all over each other as the pair hungrily made out, Trent brave enough to grab the bulge that had sprung up in Dakota's shorts as he desperately tried to suck the life out of him with his mouth. When they finally breathlessly withdrew from each other, their faces both slicked with spit, Dakota knew he needed more. "Hey, you want to see my room?"

Trent's eyes were radiant hearing the invitation, his hand still on Dakota's bulge as he gripped it hard. "Yeah, I'd love to go take a look!"

The boys started to strip naked as soon as Dakota's door was shut, kissing excitedly and grinding their bodies together for two solid hours. Trent was intent on taking things slowly, unwilling to even venture into oral since they'd just met, but Dakota respected that, content just stroking the guy's seven inches. He was amazed that their penises were almost identical as they traded between jerking each other off and masturbating together. They finally came lying next to each other, their mouths locked together kissing, their warm flesh touching from their faces down to their feet. The boys didn't bother cleaning up, spending another thirty minutes ravenously making out. This time Trent was on top of Dakota, their cum-slicked torsos smashing together, their hands and cocks frequently brushing. They busted in unison again, splattering their loads all over each other as Trent collapsed panting into Dakota, all their warm jizz pooling together.

Dakota was already convinced he wanted to date Trent. He'd never spent that much time simply kissing and jerking off with guy, but the experience was so intensely intimate, easily better than some of the occasions he'd actually had sex. He fantasized constantly about how amazing the fucking would be. They crossed that plateau two weeks later, Trent throwing Dakota's legs up in the air after thirty minutes of making out, his hard dick pressed between Dakota's cheeks. "I want to fuck you tonight," he growled intensely, gazing hungrily into Dakota's eyes as precum eagerly seeped from the head of his dick.

"Fuck me, Trent," Dakota begged. He'd been dreaming of this moment since the night they'd first met.

Trent spit a few generous portions of saliva at his cock, rubbing the tip against Dakota's hole and sliding himself inside. He struggled with the first couple inches, but Dakota was so worked up and desperate for the fuck that his insides quickly and easily gave way, Trent burying his whole shaft. He fucked slowly at first, gently kissing Dakota as his pace accelerated, until he was plowing the younger guy like a beast, his hands all over him. After a solid hour of reaming Dakota in every possible position, Trent's whole body drenched in sweat, they were back in missionary, his hands on Dakota's hips as he finally started yelling loudly. His dick was planted to the hilt as he climaxed, Trent's face contorting wildly as he fired seemingly endless bursts of seed deep into Dakota's ass. Kissing again, Trent's sweat bountifully dripping down onto Dakota's body as their eyes bored into each other, they decided they were officially boyfriends.

That first time was everything Dakota had imagined it would be, but it proved one of the best times too. Trent was the outgoing one of the pair, a guy with tons of friends who always projected confidence and could easily have plans every night of the week. As the boys grew closer and Dakota spent more time with his new boyfriend, he realized it was all a facade. Trent was deeply insecure, intensely jealous whenever he believed he wasn't the best at something. The list had gotten long: Dakota had better grades, a supposedly more ideal body, an apparently slightly bigger dick even though Trent was taller. He'd read more books and always wrote better essays; his SAT scores were higher and the university had given him a bigger scholarship. Everything in their lives was suddenly a competition even though Dakota didn't care at all about supposedly being on top. He was always telling Trent that none of it mattered.

When the boys went places together, Trent was inevitably convinced that more people were staring at his boyfriend, never hesitating to complain about it. They stopped going to the gay bar because too many people were hitting on Dakota instead of Trent. They stopped going to parties as often because Trent worried his friends liked Dakota better than they liked him. The man was constantly threatened, no amount of reassurance ever sufficient to convince him that he was good enough. They'd fucked often in the beginning, even if the sex had rarely matched their first time, but as Trent's inadequacies mounted intimacy receded too, until the couple had reached the point where it completely stopped.

Sitting in the car thinking back on everything, Dakota felt like an idiot for staying this long. What the fuck had he been afraid of giving up? The cute boy who'd uttered sweet words, who'd kissed Dakota passionately and always touched him lovingly, who'd eagerly fucked his brains out, he was a deceptive veneer. The real Trent was the resentful, controlling, jealous man sitting in the driver's seat right now. He wasn't the person Dakota had fallen in love with. That charming boy was a ghost.

Looking over at Trent, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, Dakota finally admitted to himself that their relationship was doomed. He gazed back out the window, long since rolled up to meet his boyfriend's insistent demands, into the liberty stretching bountifully beyond the cage. That was where he belonged, out roaming the blissful freedom away from Trent, not imprisoned here mourning for and terrified to walk away from a long-dead husk.

***

The boys hiked from their hotel to Jackson Square on their first morning in New Orleans, eating beignets at a cafe before they wandered through the park up to the magnificent cathedral fronting the square. Trent was taking pictures of it for some obscure art project he'd mumbled about envisioning when the front doors were suddenly thrown open, a bride and groom stepping out with ornate black and white feathered umbrellas in hand, pumping them up and down as a whole jazz band proceeded to march out and play loudly behind them. Dozens of well-dressed people streamed out of the church, waving white cloths up into the air in unison.

"Wow!" Trent said like he'd struck gold. "This is amazing!" He was eagerly recording the whole procession, panning his phone back and forth as more people poured out from the church, the brassy notes of the band following behind the happy couple gradually growing quieter. "I already love this city!" He looked at Dakota as he holstered his phone. "If we ever get married, that's exactly how we should do it."