Pegacorn: My goal was to use the translation and make it legible. But then I thought, this phrase would sound more natural in English if phrased differently. This led to me making some judgements about how I thought it would sound best. This may have led to some parts sounding kind of like my "style" though I was consciously trying to avoid that.
I am also sure there are probably some descriptive and poetic language that was completely lost in translation but I have no way of knowing. I have no idea about grammar in the original work, but I typed this up using "proper" English grammar (my best attempt at least). You may use this as you see fit (change it, post it, discard it). Consider it a gift because I like the story so much and if you at all do want to continue with more translations I'm open to discussing the idea :)
Claudy: I have no way of thanking this talented author for his help in translating this story, even more so as it is not a language that dominates. I am very happy to share this story with people who speak English, hoping that you will enjoy it. I'm very happy with the result. Thank you very much, Pegacorn!
I get strange ideas. What else can I say to those who read my writing? This story was born one night when I would not stop listening to "About A Girl" and I imagined Waylon in full grunge attire dancing to the music, while Eddie looked on in stunned silence from a distance. I find it fun to include Eddie in this type of environment, so out of his element.
And what better excuse to add another of my favorite characters who is often underrated: Frank Manera. I notice that the characters are completely out of their canon attitudes. Especially Waylon...and Frank xD I think we need more stories and fanart involving Frank! So without further ado, here's my strange story. Inspired entirely by About a Girl by Nirvana. Dedicated to Velia, who is my Kurt Cobain :3
Chapter 1: No, I can't see you every night free
"I do not want to go," was the first thing out of his lips when he heard the invitation-before Frank Manera could even finish his sentence.
"Come on, Ed! It will be fun! I promise that if you get upset or uncomfortable, we can leave. At least make give it a try," said Frank.
"No. I will not go," said Eddie, turning to glare at his friend. Frank sighed. It was very difficult to convince Eddie when he decided to be stubborn.
"Where is your spirit of adventure?" Frank asked. "And why do I even need to convince you to go? You said you were going to take me wherever I needed to go while my motorcycle is in the shop!"
"I never said that," said Eddie. "And if I did say something like that, I meant I would drive you to school, the dentist, or any other important meeting—not one of your crazy parties to hang out with a bunch of thugs."
For a man with such an intimidating face and voice, Eddie Gluskin was nothing more than an old-fashioned gentleman. He felt that anyone living below his standard were nothing but gang-bangers and criminals.
"If you come with me tonight, I promise to go with you to one of your stupid lady shops to drool over wedding dresses," said Frank.
"I told you, those shops are not only for women! Wedding dresses and arrangements are very respected and profitable, Frank. You shouldn't mock me for thinking about my financial future. You could learn a thing or two from visiting these shops," said Eddie. Frank looked away and gave a triumphant smile. Yes, he knew Eddie. He knew that he would give anything for a chance to take Frank window shopping for wedding dresses.
"So what do you say, darling?" Frank asked with a grin. "Walk me to the party?"
"I told you to stop using that word," muttered Eddie. He stood for a moment staring at Frank. It was clear how different they were, despite only being a couple of years apart in age. Sometimes people were astounded to learn that Frank was actually the younger of the two. They were even more shocked that two such different people could get along so well and be such close friends.
"Alright, alright...I know that word is a Gluskin Registered Trademark. Look, I promise you, if you get upset or angry about anything, we can leave, understand? I just want you to get out and relax a bit. What's the harm in kicking back and having fun every now and then?"
Eddie's response was a long-suffering sigh. He never agreed to the plan, but he also did not object. Frank was offering him a reasonable deal. After a considerable amount of time while Eddie finished changing and grooming himself for the outing, the pair set off to the party to fulfill Eddie's portion of the bargain. Frank continued to question Eddie's choice of outfit as they approached their destination.
"There is nothing wrong with my clothing choice," said Eddie, glaring at Frank. He was wearing a long-sleeved buttoned shirt and dress pants. Frank was just grateful that he was not wearing his usual bow tie and vest. Eddie always appeared to be just coming from, or going to, a wedding or formal event.
Their destination was not well-known. It was a small venue, formerly an abandoned building, that was re-opened by one Richard Trager as a night club. Sometimes bands would play, but the club was really more of a dive bar. The windows were broken and the space was too small for the number of people who regularly attended the events. Despite being low-key, the club had become popular with young people from the local high school, many entering with fake ID's.
The smell of smoke and sweat permeated the atmosphere. Eddie's mouth twisted into a grimace upon entering and he cast a disapproving glare at his friend. Frank was one of the most frequent customers to the club and only smiled in response before greeting a couple of girls in black tops and tight pants.
Eddie estimated the women were not over twenty-five years old. One had bottle blond hair with black roots showing and an unruly perm, and the other had short dark hair, the left half completely shaven. The girls looked over Eddie's attire and were unable to keep the small smiles from appearing on their faces. Eddie did not like the looks of those ladies at all, and he found their reaction to his outfit irritating. Both girls seemed to realize this, so they quickly made an excuse about needing to go to the bathroom and said goodbye to Frank.
"Come on Eddie," Frank shouted, "relax a little! We came to have fun!" His comments were drowned out by the music and the crowd. Eddie felt uncomfortable and completely out of place. There was loud music, thick smoke, and far too many people. It was one bad combination after another. Eddie did not bother to complain to Frank because he knew his friend would ignore his complaints, especially considering they had only just arrived.
"I'll get us some beers," Frank shouted over the noise. "Walk around a little, take a tour. Who knows, you might find something to catch your interest."
Frank highly doubted Eddie would find anything to lessen his hatred of the place, but he made a quick get away toward the bar. He actually had bigger plans of using the time alone to scour the club for his old band mates.
Frank had spent many years of his youth, through high school and college, as a member of a thrash metal band. The group had since decided to take a break from making music, leading to Frank's "new life" he had mentioned to Eddie. Frank had played lead guitar and was responsible for composing the majority of the band's songs. The band had even had a couple of shows where they opened for larger, reasonably popular acts. Lately, Frank was focused on ending their break and getting the band back together for an epic reunion.
Eddie followed Frank's terrible advice and ended up walking around the perimeter of the crowded club, a weary expression on his face. It was obvious to Eddie that most of the attendees of the club were not over eighteen. Most people in the crowd were loud and obnoxious, puffing away on cigarettes and spilling their cheap beers.
At one point, Eddie was sure he detected the aroma of marijuana. His response was an immediate frown. Eddie thought there was nothing more pathetic than requiring the use of substances to appear mature. He thought the club was comprised completely of superficial and frivolous people—the type of people not worth a moment of his time. They were all sad and pathetic, Eddie thought, struggling to concentrate on his thoughts over the loud whine of an electric guitar and the roar of the crowd. He sighed with relief when the song finally ended.
"We're taking a short break," the lead singer announced before setting down the microphone and nearly falling into a grappling embrace by none other than Frank Manera.
Great, thought Eddie. It would be impossible to drag Frank away from the club after the crowd while he was rubbing-elbows with the local "celebrities." Eddie could not fathom why Frank insisted on taking him to these fucking places when it was clear Frank did not need his company. The crowded, smoky club was Frank's natural environment—where he excelled.
The house music was not nearly as loud or grating as Eddie had feared. Eddie was thankful that the volume remained low and his eardrums would not be punctured. He recognized the soft tune and particular sound of the voice. Nirvana, Eddie realized. He recognized the song because it was one of Frank's favorite bands, and Eddie had been forced to listen to it at least fifteen times during one of their week long road trips several years back.
I need an easy friendship
I do with an ear to lend
I do think you fit this shoe
I do, won't you have a clue?
Eddie heard a couple of voices laughing and singing along in the distance. His gaze was drawn toward the origin of the noises, more inertia than curiosity—and it hit him. A feeling like an electric current coursed through his veins when his eyes landed on the source of the sound-a young man. Suddenly, Eddie could not tear his eyes away. His hands clenched at his sides. He'd never felt that way from merely looking at someone before. At least, not someone he did not know, and definitely never so instant or powerful.
I'll take advantage while
you hang me out to dry
but I can't see you every night Free...I do
The young man's eyes were closed and he held a beer up to his chest. His head, hips, and legs moved rhythmically to the music. He looked so casual and relaxed in the crowded environment. His faded jeans were ripped at the knees, and his black t-shirt was so faded the logo was undecipherable. A flannel, red plaid shirt was tied around his waist to complete the look. His hair fell past his chin, the soft blond color perfectly framing his young, handsome face. Eddie could not look away from the vision before him.
I'm standing in your line
I do hope you have the time
I do pick a number, too
I do keep a date with you
Without thinking, Eddie walked directly up to the young man. His eyes were transfixed on the boy's dancing, not wanting to miss out on any detail, no matter how small. Where did this guy come from? He was dressed like any other rough customer of the club, but his movements showed a softness that seemed to clash with the music echoing off the walls. Eddie could not look away, blue eyes locked on his target. For the first time that evening, he was thankful for the crowd because it prevented his deliberate actions from standing out—especially when the young man turned in his direction and Eddie's breath caught in his throat.
I'll take advantage while
You hang me out to dry
But I can't see you every night Free...I do
Just when Eddie was sure the show before him could not grow more interesting, a pair of brown eyes met his own and he noticed the ghost of a smile on the boy's lips. Eddie's heart accelerated rapidly feeling nervous, excited, and fascinated. There were too many emotions to separate.
I need an easy friend
I do with an ear to lend
I do think you fit this shoe
I do, won't you have a clue?
Eddie watched as the young man walked carelessly through the crowd in Eddie's direction with an amused expression on his face. He paid careful attention to every sway of his hips and the delicate curve of his neck. Eddie did not know whether to rejoice or despair as the man approached. He preferred to be a distant observer, but was fighting his body's natural impulse to want to get closer to this person and learn more about them.
I'll take advantage while
You hang me out to dry
But I can't see you every night
No, I can't see you every night Free
I do, I do, I do...
The song ended and Eddie watched the young man empty the beer bottle in his hand. Another song began, but it became background noise that Eddie ignored. He looked down for a moment, unsure how to act. He had never felt so out of place as he did in that moment, lost in a crowd of young people that held nothing in common with his way of thinking. Still, Eddie contemplated approaching this total stranger and asking for his name just to hear his voice. The night just kept getting crazier.
Eddie had never been the type of man to seek out a one night stand. He was not a man who had sheltered many related in his memoirs, but the few I had were the result of hard work, quotes, things, details. And ultimately it was not some strange appearance misaligned in the worst had taken the decision not to getting around the issue and to stop once and for all that vulgar behavior as before I felt a strong arm around his neck.
"Finally found you, Ed! You had me worried. Where were you?" Frank asked. The sour smell of alcohol hit Eddie's face giving him the warning that his friend was on his way to being tipsy. Frank was a terrible drunk, often requiring Eddie to drag him out of establishments and he tended to make a general nuisance of himself.
"Where did you think I was? It's not as if this place is big enough for me to get lost," said Eddie. His face showed the annoyance he felt over his friend's condition, but his gaze betrayed him as he looked out across the crowd. The change in his facial expression was not lost on Frank.
"You're having fun, Eddie?" said Frank, grinning. "You want to stay a little longer?" The question startled Eddie and he stared at Frank's undecipherable expression, unsure how to answer.
"Alright," Eddie conceded, "but only for a little while longer. I have an early commitment and must attend to some orders for my clients."
"Suit yourself, Ed. Just remember that you have to let go a little...alright?" There was no opportunity to reply when Frank was swallowed up by the crowd again. Eddie felt lost, unsure what to do with himself at that point.
His gaze drifted back to the group of dancing young people. The group consisted of a couple girls and three boys, all dressed in a similar style. The group was laughing and talking loudly as Eddie approached the bar. He took a last look, noting how the young blond stayed in place, watching him. The young man smiled in his direction. His expression was playful and childish, as though he were up to some mischief, before he turned away to address his friends.
Eddie sighed. He was unfamiliar with how one should behave in such a situation having never participated in casual dating. His natural inclinations told him to walk up with a gallant smile and proclaim, "Hello! I'm really attracted to you sexually and found your dance erotic and suggestive. May I buy you a beer?" Common sense told him that was the definite wrong thing to do in this situation.
Meanwhile, Waylon turned to watch the members of his small group. Miles had insisted, per usual, that the group visit that particular club for the third time that week. Miles preferred the club because the beer were cheap and the women were easy, though the last observation earned a scowl from Lisa who seemed a step away from punching Miles in the nose.
"What was that, Park?" Miles said, handing Waylon a freshly opened beer.
"What was what?" asked Waylon.
"Don't play dumb, Way! You were dancing for this guy, right?"
The eyes of the entire group focused on Waylon at the same time. Waylon frowned as he took a sip of his beer.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Waylon. "We're all just having fun, Miles. I found it funny that he seemed to be watching me. You think he's some kind of pervert?"
"I don't know. Maybe you could find out tonight," Miles said in a mocking tone. It was common for him to treat Waylon that way, and he was used to the treatment.
Waylon and Miles had been friends for years. He had given Waylon a chance back when everyone only knew him as the "nerd." Waylon learned to walk on his own, earning a reputation in the streets, and strengthening his friendship with Miles even more. They both knew exactly what to say—and what not to say- to one another.
"Sometimes you're unbearable, you know?" said Waylon.
"And sometimes you're too obvious, bro," said Miles. The rest of the group was content to listen and laugh at their banter. Everyone knew that Miles and Waylon got along despite their tendency to be sarcastic toward one another. The pair had only fought once in their entire friendship, and that time had been a misunderstanding more than anything else. Waylon was the quiet one, while sarcasm and defiance were second nature to Miles.
He hoped to make a career out of it one day. Miles' political ideologies tended toward extremes. He was always involved in some social movement, no matter how risky. On more than one occasion, Waylon had been called on to get Miles out of jail after being accused of vandalism because of his participation in a political march that devolved into a riot. He had also been called upon to carry Miles home like a child more times than Miles liked to admit.
After years of friendship, Miles knew all of Waylon's tastes and preferences—what type of men usually caught his eye. That's why the encounter with the stranger had not gone unnoticed. Waylon did not usually flirt so brazenly, even in a club environment. Miles was required by the code of friendship to mention the behavior.
One of Waylon's favorite songs began to play, and it was not coincidence that Waylon casually suggested that his group dance. He pulled the rest of the girls with him, creating a small group of dancing bodies. He started up with his routine similar to before. Waylon may not have been the best dancer, or the best speaker, but his relaxed attitude and focus on his dancing made him ten times more attractive. He continued to seek out eye contact with the strange man, constantly seeking to catch his eye only to look away quickly. That way he could deny it to his friends, though his actions were definitely intentional.
Eddie's internal war continued for the rest of the evening. The interactions with the dancing boy did not end there—he saw him everywhere. When Eddie went to the bar, the boy would be sitting directly across from him, holding his beer up with a slight smile on his face. On his way to the bathroom, the young man walked out as Eddie approached, passing right by without making eye contact—as though the constant eye contact throughout the night had been something Eddie imagined.
No matter where Eddie went or what he did, the scenario was the same—his gaze continued to find the dancing boy despite the growing crowd. A strange thought occurred to Eddie as he began to wonder if maybe the boy was following him in the same way? No—he could not believe that. It was impossible to think someone in a club like that would be interested in any interaction with a man like him. They would have nothing in common! Eddie did not even know what they could talk about.
Miles had noticed the look on Waylon's face and grinned at the positively childish behavior being displayed by both of the men. Who did they think they were fooling with this act? The stranger took pains to stay away from Waylon, while the blond worked hard to remain in the stranger's range of vision. They were too obvious. Miles' attention was suddenly diverted when he felt a hand clap him on the shoulder.
"Hey, Upshur! I have to talk to you," came the voice of Frank Manera, causing Miles to turn around with a shocked expression. They had met recently during one of Miles many visits to the home of Chris Walker. Coincidentally, Chris had been the drummer in a band with Frank though their band was currently on hiatus. It was not uncommon for paths to cross, especially in a small city like theirs with a relatively small scene.
"What do we have to talk about? I was under the impression that I was not your type," Miles said, the grin on his face causing Frank to frown. The two men were strikingly similar which led to their personalities clashing on many occasions.
"I did not come here to talk about your preferences, pal. I came to talk about my boy, Eddie. It's pretty obvious what's happening here? Someone like you should be able to pick up what's going on with the way he's stalking around the club staring at your friend there. I promise you, Eddie does not have the balls to make the first move."
Miles focused on Frank's words, nodding slowly. Miles was not surprised that Frank would suggest taking action—Miles had had the same thought, after all. Still, he hated agreeing with Frank on anything.
"Waylon's doing it on purpose," Miles said, "he's purposely flirting with your boy. So...it's mutual. But they're both being stupid. You have some suggestion on how to fix this?"
"Now that you mention it, I do happen to have a plan in mind..."
As the night wore on, Eddie's attitude took a turn for the worst. He had ordered a miserable craft beer, which tasted horrible, all for the sake of "supporting local businesses." The bartenders had a clear preference for plunging necklines and miniskirts which he found trashy. Eddie decided it was time to leave. Part of his deal with Frank was that they would not remain at the club until three in the morning, and it was already growing late and the club was beginning to wear on Eddie's patience.
Eddie started to look for Frank in the crowd, and a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. It seemed that his friend had been swallowed up by the Earth. Eddie looked everywhere, impressed that his friend could actually get lost in such a tiny building. Eddie expected to find Frank spending time with the two sluts that had greeted them upon entering. He had spotted Frank infrequently and always hanging near those two ladies. Perhaps Frank had gotten lucky in scoring a partner for the evening and already left?
"Stupid Frank...he knows I don't like driving home alone this late at night," Eddie said to himself. His voice was thick with annoyance as he walked to the exit, hoping to find Frank in the parking lot—most likely in the back of some car. Eddie had only to look for the vehicle that was rocking conspicuously. He hated his friend in that moment.
Cold air assaulted Eddie the moment he walked outside and he immediately cursed himself for forgetting to wear warmer clothing or bring a jacket. Then he stopped when he noticed a slender figure leaning against a car with a cigarette in one hand and a cellphone in the other. He glanced up from his phone and noticed Eddie, a small smile on his face. At that point, Eddie forgot all about the cold—and the name of the friend he was supposed to be finding.
"My friends left me too," said the young blond with a wry smile. He pressed his fingers around the screen of his phone, re-reading again and again the messages from Miles.
-I...Chris home. The girls also. I am sorry. I love you. Kiss!-
"Fuck," cursed Waylon, pocketing his cell as he puffed on his cigarette, staring in the opposite direction from where Eddie stood. "I saw your friend, the guy with the messy long hair? He left with some noisy blond chick. I doubt they're still around..."
"Probably won't be seeing him for at least three days then," Eddie muttered, fighting to calm his anger as much as his rising desire for the young boy. The two emotions waged war on his thoughts as he continued to stare. The stranger's voice was just as he had imagined: soft—but not too soft, and friendly despite sounding slightly sarcastic. In the dim lighting of the parking lot, Eddie could see his features more clearly. He found himself staring at the boy's clear brown eyes and smooth face.
"You're lucky. Three days is nothing. Once, I lost Miles for almost three full weeks. I had to borrow Lisa's car to pick him up off the side of the road in New Mexico. He never did give me many details about how he got there..." Waylon paused as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. He placed a new cigarette between his lips then extended his hand toward the stranger, "Want one?" Eddie shook his head quickly to decline the offer, causing Waylon to grin with the cigarette between his lips.
"I don't want to be rude, but what is a person like you doing in a place like this? You shouldn't come dressed up like that. People will think you're a cop...or someone's dad," said Waylon.
"What exactly is wrong with the way I dress? There's nothing wrong with wanting to dress properly," said Eddie. The quick reaction pulled at Waylon's heart, though he pushed the feeling away as quickly as it appeared.
"Waylon," he said, "What's your name?"
The question caught Eddie off-guard. He smiled back and extended his hand in a stiff, formal gesture—another Gluskin Registered Trademark as Frank would call it.
"I'm Edward Gluskin, but most tend to shorten it to Eddie. It's very nice to make your acquaintance, Waylon."
A strange look came over Waylon's face as he raised his hand and pressed his palm into the huge hand being offered. Their differences were very noticeable in that moment. Apart from their vastly different sizes, they also had vastly different complexions and contrasting hair colors of dark and light. Waylon had never felt like he was weak. He believed his physical stature fell well within the range of average. Still, next to Eddie, he managed to feel very small. It caused conflicting emotions within him as he could not decide whether he should be more intrigued or somewhat intimidated.
"Well. I need to get home," said Waylon, pushing off the car into a standing position. "Fucking Miles took the car this time so, I guess I'm walking."
"I could give you a ride...if you had no objections, of course," said Eddie. The offer was strange considering they were a couple of complete strangers who had only talked one time behind a bar in the middle of the night. Waylon narrowed his eyes as he considered the offer. Ultimately, his attraction to Eddie won out. He was very attractive.
Waylon had always had a weakness for big guys, but Eddie was unique. The way he could appear so calm, gentle, and elegant while maintaining such power and masculinity. Waylon was incredibly interested in getting closer.
"You sure? I mean, I could be a serial killer who takes advantage of nice guys like you and then disposes of their bodies off the side of the road. Or maybe it's you who's hiding a room full of corpses in the basement of your cabin or something," said Waylon. He had intended the joke to reduce the tension between them, but he was met with an unnerving glare from cold blue eyes. "Oh god, I was right? You kill young guys you pick up at bars!"
"Absolutely not! How can you dare to say such a thing..."
"It was supposed to be a joke? People tend to laugh when I make jokes, you know..."
"I do not find your unfounded accusations entertaining in the least," said Eddie. Waylon's laugh was one of the most striking and attractive things he had ever heard. He laughed until his cheeks turned red and eyes squeezed shut. Eddie was completely torn between his attraction to the laugh and his discomfort from the previous statement. He was having trouble maintaining an offended expression when he wanted to smile. Waylon's laughter was contagious.
"Would you like a ride home, or not?" asked Eddie.
"Mr. Gluskin! Oh, would you please be so kind as to be my ride tonight?" asked Waylon. The severe look on Eddie's face only intensified, but Waylon just shrugged. Eddie sighed and focused on keeping his composure as he played the role of responsible adult opposite the carefree role of Waylon Park. While the boy was engrossed in smoking his cigarette, Eddie dared a quick look up and down Waylon's body. He was not disappointed.
Eddie fished his keys from his pocket, opened the passenger door, and held it open for Waylon. He paused when he noticed the still smoldering cigarette in Waylon's hand and the pack kept out for easy access.
"There is no smoking in this car," said Eddie.
"Hmm...wait, what?" asked Waylon, his face a mixture of astonishment and indignation. "Wait, how can you have a rule like that? You're friends with Frank. I'm sure that guy did way worse stuff in this car."
"Of course not. Frank understands the rules regarding the use of my car, and one of them is that there is no smoking. I would appreciate it if you could put out your cigarette before entering, please," said Eddie.
Waylon grumbled as he flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it into the pavement with his military style boot. Eddie smiled and a triumphant look crossed his face for a fleeting moment before buckling his seatbelt and checking all of his gauges and mirrors. He had to be extra careful after leaving his car parked in such a shady area.
"Now, where exactly do you live?" Eddie asked once they were both buckled inside the car.
"I live downtown—just a few blocks to the right of the old train station," said Waylon. Eddie knew the area. It was known for being rather run-down and unsafe, filled with abandoned houses and poverty stricken neighborhoods.
Waylon crossed his arms, staring away out the window. He was not particularly fond of people knowing where he lived. He had spent most of his life in the area, but even he knew not to walk those streets alone late at night. Eddie wasn't sure how to get Waylon talking once they were driving toward the designated area. An uncomfortable silence settled over the car. Eddie decided to turn on the radio in an effort to ease the tension.
"Stop me if you like a station," Eddie said, pressing buttons on the dash.
"What is that? Classical music?" Waylon stared at Eddie, trying to keep from outright laughing. He failed. Waylon would have guessed that Eddie was in his forties, though he actually looked much younger than that. "You act like some kind of old geezer. Everything around you is so old fashioned."
"Excuse me? I don't mind trying another station, but do you really think that noise they play at that club should be considered good music? Let me tell you, it's shit," said Eddie. Waylon's grin only grew larger. He thought it was funny how easily Eddie could be provoked and enjoyed taunting the older man.
"Wow. So mean," said Waylon. When Eddie failed to find a station they both agreed upon, silence returned to haunt them both as they sat in the car, unspeaking. Waylon felt his cellphone vibrating from his pocket and slowly pulled it out.
-Don't be stupid, Park. You like him. He likes you. Stop messing around and do something.-
Another helpful message from Miles. Waylon grinned at his phone before staring longingly at Eddie out of the corner of his eye.
"You are so weird, you know that?" Waylon asked, the smile still splitting his face, "and it's this way. Turn right!" Eddie followed the instructions, but he was confused. The area Waylon had originally claimed to live was two streets back and their car was rapidly approaching a small, secluded park. The lighting in the area was dim and spotty allowing for plenty of dark shadows.
"Why did you bring me here, Waylon?" Eddie asked. "We passed the street toward your home just back there."
"I wanted to show you something before you drop me off. Is that alright?" Waylon asked, turning to face Eddie and smiling. It was much different from his earlier smile, devoid of any sarcasm or derision. Waylon looked happy and his posture where he sat in the car was relaxed. Eddie found it endearing the way Waylon's rough, punk exterior contrasted his complexion and the softness of his face and eyes.
Eddie pulled into the park and drove slowly through the area, pleased to find the landscaping and equipment clean despite being in a poor part of town. Eddie soon found a quiet place to park and turned off the car engine.
"So...what? What did you want to show me?" Eddie asked.
"I hadn't really thought that far ahead. Honestly, I'm surprised you followed any of my directions. I could have been trying to kidnap you or something! That's got me thinking..." said Waylon.
"Thinking about..."
"How much you like me," said Waylon. Eddie's eyes widened and he quickly attempted to cover up his surprised reaction. It was too late. Waylon had definitely noticed.
"You don't have to deny it," Waylon said, chuckling. "It was pretty fucking obvious. I could tell you were watching me when I was dancing, and how uncomfortable you were when I caught your eye at the bar. Were you avoiding me?"
Eddie squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation. "I actually believed that it was you who was stalking me."
Waylon inhaled slowly before unbuckling his seatbelt and moving to the edge of his seat. He leaned closer, his movements slow and controlled. Eddie swallowed hard as Waylon's breath ghosted across his cheek.
"Maybe you were wrong," Waylon said, right next to Eddie's cheek, "Maybe I spent the entire night trying to get your attention so I could meet you." Silence stretched on as time seemed to stop. Eddie was not sure how to react. Waylon's breath smelled of smoke and beer, but it felt warm on Eddie's cold cheek. As though driven by some natural impulse, Eddie turned his head suddenly and met a pair of brown eyes, watching him with amusement. Everything was so strange and complicated. It was like being back in high school.
"I like you, Eddie," said Waylon. "Well, I don't know if it's like. I only know that I am definitely interested in you. Aren't you interested in me, Eddie?" Waylon reached across Eddie's body to touch his shoulder before slowly dragging his hand down his muscular arm and finally coming to rest where Eddie's thigh met his hip. Waylon leaned in even closer until his lips brushed lightly against Eddie's cheek coming dangerously close to his lips in slow, deliberate movements. It took all of Eddie's self-control to keep his hands to himself. Self-control that was rapidly depleting.
"What's the matter? Don't like me? Or what, are you too old? You impotent or something? What more of an invitation are you waiting for," said Waylon as his hands became more insistent on Eddie's thigh. His lips worked their way down his face until he was kissing along Eddie's strong, chiseled jaw. He kept his eyes open as he swiped his tongue across Eddie's skin, wanting a front row seat to every reaction, no matter how slight. He noticed how Eddie seemed to be fighting some internal struggle, though his blue eyes were dilated with desire.
"Maybe you don't want..."
The phrase could not be completed. The next thing he knew, Waylon's mouth was imprisoned by a pair of lips. Strong, powerful hands grabbed his hips and he allowed himself to be pulled until he was partially sitting in Eddie's lap. The feel of Eddie's lips was much softer than Waylon had thought. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss while his hands mapped out a vast, warm chest.
Eddie ran his hands firmly over Waylon's hips, moving down to stroke his thighs that strained against the tightness of his pants. It did not even matter that Waylon tasted of smoke and alcohol—Eddie felt fucking great. He could not remember the last time he had kissed someone with such intensity or experienced the feeling of a foreign tongue invading his mouth. Waylon took him by surprise when he placed both hands on Eddie's shoulders and shoved him back against the seat. Eddie was quick to pull Waylon back with a strong grip, enjoying the power play.
"I knew you were a pervert, Eddie. I can feel your kind a mile away..."
"Shut up," growled Eddie. He found a better use for Waylon's mouth as he started a new round of kisses that soon devolved into biting and sucking desperately at one another. The car was filled with the sound of Waylon panting and Eddie gasping between kisses. Waylon's hips rocked steadily on Eddie's lap, earning new groans from both men. Their clothing became disheveled from the persistent friction between their bodies.
Eddie slid his hands up the back of Waylon's shirt, enjoying the feeling of his warm, bare back. He felt out of control—like a teenager again. He allowed his hormones and instincts to lead him and soon he forcibly pushed Waylon onto the passenger seat.
"Damn. I could tell you were a guy who likes rough sex just from spotting you tonight. You had sexual frustration written on your face," said Waylon.
"I told you to shut up, darling. Or perhaps you are going to act like a disobedient bitch tonight?"
Waylon tilted his head at the statement. That was something new—at least in terms of what he had expected from Eddie. Some people may have felt offended or frightened by the turn of events, but not Waylon.
"Did you just call me a bitch?" asked Waylon. He grinned at the distressed look that came over Eddie's face.
"Oh...I...I'm sorry. I have a bad habit of saying some strange things during..."
"...during sex," said Waylon, finishing the thought. He took advantage of Eddie's hesitation and began to undo the buttons on Eddie's shirt.
"I know it's a problem—it has been in the past. Women do not like it when..."
"I'm not a woman, Eddie. You can call me whatever you like, the more obscene the better," said Waylon before he resumed kissing Eddie. The pair used their tongues and teeth to communicate hunger and need. Eddie suspected he was not the only one with a habit of losing control during sex.
Eddie's body reacted to those kisses. His hands resumed their movements, starting to move all over any part of Waylon's body he could reach. He lifted Waylon's shirt, desperate to gain access to his slender chest. His movements slowed as he caressed his nipples, taking his time to touch and pinch the sensitive flesh until they were both standing up.
Waylon's hands were also busy moving, stroking under Eddie's shirt and attempting to lift it out of the way, eager to reveal more of his fit body. Eddie's arms were strong, his chest broad, and his thighs felt like paradise. He could not stop the soft moans escaping his lips with each roll of his hips. Both of the men had a need to feel the other, to explore what was hiding beneath their clothes. They began removing garments that were keeping them from achieving these goals.
Eddie's lips dropped to Waylon's neck as his strong hands pushed Waylon's hips up in an attempt to pull down his tight pants. Waylon finally managed to remove his own shirt and tilted his head back, offering his bare neck to Eddie with a soft sigh. While Eddie continued to kiss and lick across his skin, Waylon's hand snuck down between Eddie's legs and gave a covert squeeze. Eddie's movements stopped all at once.
"Sorry. Did I scare you?" asked Waylon.
"No...it's fine, darling," said Eddie.
"Why do you call me darling? Is it some kind of weird, fetish thing or something?" Eddie removed Waylon's seeking hand from his lap. Waylon was unfazed, meeting Eddie's gaze defiantly. Still, Eddie was pleased to see that Waylon seemed to yield to his intimidation.
"You say a lot of things with that mouth of yours, darling," said Eddie. "Maybe we should find a more creative use for that tongue of yours." Eddie forced his fingers past Waylon's lips and into his mouth before he could complain. Waylon immediately began to lick and suck greedily at the digits, a trail of saliva spilling from the corner of his lips.
Eddie finally succeeded in removing Waylon's tight pants, all while never breaking eye contact. He knew he should calm down and try to control his baser instincts. Usually Eddie only practiced these strange control fantasies about dominating someone else completely in the privacy of his own home. Waylon's response to the dominant actions provided incentive for the treatment to continue.
"You like it rough...like to be treated like the whore you are," said Eddie, removing his wet fingers from Waylon's mouth and using his other hand to roughly pull Waylon's boxers to the side. Two fingers traced along his puckered entrance, pressing inwards slightly. A frown of discomfort creased Waylon's face, but he made no verbal complaints aside from a broken gasp. The digits continued to prod and explore, though Eddie knew they would require more if he wanted to push further.
Eddie made an irritated noise as he reached to open up his glove compartment and easily located the bottle of lubricant he kept there. Waylon's eyes twinkled with amusement and no doubt he had several snide comments to make about the presence of the bottle, but luckily he kept them to himself. Neither wanted to ruin the moment.
"Look at me," Eddie said, taking Waylon's chin in one hand and forcing their eyes to meet, "I want you to keep your eyes on me at all times, darling. I want to see every expression and reaction while I am deep inside of you. Are you going to be a good girl for me now?"
A mixture of emotions warred within Waylon. He wanted to laugh at the strange words that were such a contrast to Eddie's neat and proper appearance. Who would have thought that such a somber man would be into such kinky sex? Then again, Waylon knew it was always the most innocent looking people hiding the darkest fetishes. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he felt a pair of thick fingers shoved abruptly inside of him, causing him to groan uncontrollably.
Eddie's touch was uncomfortable and somewhat painful, but it was hardly Waylon's first time. He had a long list of past sexual encounters, some even in cars with strangers exactly as they were. He could almost thank Eddie for having the perverted foresight to bring along lube to make things easier. Waylon smiled as he raised his hips, pushing back on Eddie's hand.
"Of course, Eddie...I'll be a good girl tonight," said Waylon.
Eddie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Where had he found such a seductive creature? In the past, Eddie's partners had much different reactions to his unusual preferences during sex. Most looked at him with complete disapproval. Eddie was accustomed to being in control—in everything, not just sex. He had a set schedule for everything in his day and a habit for keeping everything organized. Sometimes he was confused why his friends even tolerated his behavior. None of his past partners, men or women, had come to understand his specific preferences. Their inability to understand made Eddie feel impatient which sometimes manifested itself in explosions of irritation.
Eddie slid his fingers deeper and Waylon had to arch his body slightly to maintain eye contact as he had been instructed. He kept his hands to himself, afraid anything else might go against his partner's wishes. Eddie was impressed with Waylon's obedience as he worked a third finger past his muscular ring.
"Shit," hissed Waylon,
"Language, darling," chided Eddie. "No decent woman would use such vulgarity."
"Yeah well, I was never a very decent woman," Waylon gasped, his eyes squinting as he moaned. Eddie licked his lips at the sight of Waylon's pleasure. An adorable blush adorned Waylon's cheeks making him look even more sweet and docile. The innocent appearance only doubled Eddie's need.
Eddie leaned down to close his lips around one of Waylon's nipples. He glanced up to watch his face as his fingers began to thrust faster. Waylon's entire body trembled at the sensation. Eddie's fingers were thick and stretching him almost uncomfortably. He knew from experience that the more he relaxed, the better it would be, but he found it difficult to breathe deeply and relax his body without losing sight of those fierce blue eyes. That intense stare caused Waylon's cock to throb in his boxers where they still covered him partially. He was dying for some stimulation on that part of his body, but
considered whether Eddie would object to such behavior. Waylon gave a devilish grin as he decided to test his luck.
"What are you doing," Eddie snapped.
"Touching myself," Waylon drawled, starting to stroke his own cock with slow, measured strokes above the dark cloth of his boxers. His eyes closed momentarily at the relief he experienced, despite detecting the annoyance in Eddie's tone. It was no surprise when Eddie's hand grasped his hand and moved to restrain his wrists.
"What did I say about being a good girl, darling? It seems you're striving to misbehave," Eddie said before biting down on Waylon's chest—hard—leaving a clear bite mark. The moan that escaped Waylon's lips was louder than either expected. There was something very exciting about being dominated by a man like Eddie. Waylon found Eddie's voice and formal manner of speaking so arousing his cock managed to grow even harder.
Eddie bit down again, and managed to pull a shout from Waylon as sharp teeth embedded in pale skin. The metallic taste of warm blood spilling into his mouth had Eddie humming with satisfaction as he licked at the bleeding wound.
"I believe you are ready for me," Eddie whispered next to Waylon's ear, his three fingers easily sliding in and out. He withdrew his hand and quickly undid his pants, shuffling his clothing until his cock was freed. Waylon watched intently, immediately feeling nervous by Eddie's intimidating size. His member was large and thick, leaving Waylon incredibly grateful that he had taken so much time in preparing his entrance. It would make the next morning much less painful. Waylon began looking around at his discarded pants and the action caught Eddie's attention.
"Look in my back pocket, I always bring a few condoms," said Waylon.
Eddie frowned, avoiding Waylon's eyes. "What? It's not like I use them all the time, just better to be prepared..."
"It's not that. I just...I require...Special ones" said Eddie.
"Oh, you mean, because you're huge?" asked Waylon, grinning. "I am actually pretty pleasantly surprised to see that..."
"No. I just...need a hypoallergenic condom…."
"Hypo...what?" His following laugh had Eddie breaking out in an actual blush that Waylon found amusing. He was obviously uncomfortable showing even the smallest amount of vulnerability in front of another person.
"Let me guess, you're allergic to sex?"
"Don't be ridiculous! I'm not allergic to sex. I am allergic to...to latex. It's no laughing matter..." Eddie said, frowning as his cheeks grew warm.
"That's an excuse I haven't heard before," said Waylon, his laughter echoing throughout the car. Eddie frowned as his excitement faded slightly and he began to sit back in his seat. Waylon noticed and quickly stopped laughing, sliding his arms around Eddie's neck.
"Sorry. I'm not laughing at you or anything...I'm kind of an idiot sometimes. Forgive me?" asked Waylon. His voice was so sweet and pure, unlike anything Eddie had heard before. Eddie stared into his eyes finding them wide and innocent. "Come on...we're having fun, right? Sorry I was rude. I don't know what others have said about it before, but I think you're sexy," said Waylon, rubbing little circles onto Eddie's chest before leaning in to dust kisses along his bare shoulder.
Eddie inhaled deeply, unable to ignore Waylon's words and his hands on his chest. His body was quick to react, once again filled with longing. He especially responded to the gentle feeling of Waylon's hands on him, making him feel wanted.
"Come on Eddie," whispered Waylon. "I want to feel my husband's seed leaking out of me." The strange phrasing was inspired by Eddie's strange insistence on their roles as a couple, but Waylon had a feeling there was more to it than Eddie let on. He suspected that Eddie liked his partners dolled up in dresses, pearls, the whole package—no matter their gender. Waylon had never felt particularly feminine, but he was always open to experiencing new things. Especially when he felt Eddie's throbbing shaft respond to his seeking fingers.
Eddie could not hold back any longer. Waylon's body was nearly thrown over the seat. He felt Eddie enter him in one swift motion, penetrating deep and hard. The high pitched moan that escaped Waylon's lips was a pleasant surprise. The invasion had been too sudden and Waylon's hips were pushed up until Eddie was buried to the hilt. Eddie groaned in satisfaction. The vision of Waylon as an obedient wife was the biggest turn on he could imagine.
"Ahh...E-Eddie," stuttered Waylon.
"Stay still, darling...let me fill you up..." said Eddie between breaths. He began to slam into Waylon with a persistant and punishing pace. He seemed out of control of his actions, completely lost in the fantasy as their hips slapped together with each thrust. Waylon's legs were lifted up, forcing him to arch his lower back, and causing Eddie to achieve an angle that stimulated his prostate on every push.
Waylon's body was already humming with anticipation as he closed his eyes. Eddie's hands on his back were tight enough to leave bruises. Waylon knew he would come quickly if the hard thrusts continued. Eddie's movements were fast and fluid, aided by his previous diligence with the lubricant while preparing Waylon. Soon, he was approaching his threshold, unable to stop himself from moaning Eddie's name.
The sound of his own name on Waylon's lips delighted Eddie. His hands gripped slender hips so tightly his fingernails would leave indents in the pale flesh. The scent of Waylon's body filling the car drove him crazy. He could not stop his thoughts from going to a thousand and one domestic scenarios starring Waylon as his obedient, suburban wife. The fantasy of indulging in marital sex with his partner was one that his thoughts returned to quite often. A few short thrusts later, Eddie filled Waylon with a deep groan. The sudden burst of warmth in his gut had Waylon gasping as his climax followed.
"Ngh...Eddie," panted Waylon. His eyes were closed and a few drops of sweat rolled down his forehead. There was some soreness in his hips, but the feeling of satisfaction and pleasure was stronger. "I'm full of you..."
"Do you like it, darling? Having my seed inside of you?"
"Love it..." said Waylon, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.
Eddie was thankful that he had agreed to go out that night, though that club had never been his favorite. At least a good, hard fuck had come out of the evening. It took a couple of minutes for the pair to calm their breathing. Eddie looked into Waylon's eyes for a moment. The dim lighting filtering through the window made a beautiful reflection in his brown eyes. They were clearer than Eddie had originally imagined—innocent, attractive. The slight blush on Waylon's cheeks added to his appeal. Eddie leaned in to place a couple of soft kisses on Waylon's flushed face.
Waylon's body shook with a soft, tired laugh. He was not used to being treated so kindly after sex—though it was always something he craved.
"Eddie, you're amazing, really. I don't mean just because you're still inside of me..."
"Do you always speak this way?" Eddie asked, kissing Waylon's lips gently. "You really say the most vulgar things..."
"Look who's talking, pervert," said Waylon, grinning. "Do you make a habit of picking up young guys and buttfucking them in your car, old man?"
"Only when they are very cute," Eddie said softly. The warm feeling was threatening to envelop them both and lure them into sleep. Waylon knew he could not give into the temptation. He had to get home sooner or later.
He wondered if this was the last time he would see Eddie. It was not unusual for this type of encounter—after each party gets what they want, they tend to go their separate ways. Miles was always lecturing him about respecting his body and finding more meaningful relationships. Waylon pretended to listen, knowing that Miles was right, but ultimately it was just easier to seek out a physical relationship without worrying about anything emotion. But, there was a first time for everything.
Being with Eddie felt entirely different from anything else he had experienced. The kisses, the caresses—everything was different. Maybe Eddie felt the same way about him.