11 Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;
milk and honey are under your tongue.
Song of Solomon 4:11

B.K


Today: Tuesday – Still first day if camp.

Sadly, for the both of us, there wasn't a chance after the late-lunch to so much as touch in a sexual way. Lunch had been a drag for the both of us. Despite the fact that he had ran away from me after the 'cabin episode' he had saved a seat for me next to him at one of the further tables. It was obvious to everyone that we were, basically, the rejects. What happened to the warm welcome people were supposed to get from happy-go-lucky church members? Obviously, they didn't follow that little rule. So, we sat isolated, which I didn't mind.

We didn't talk that much though I did ask him why he had run away from me. He responded with pink cheeks, eyes down on his food and: "Because I…you…we…I was trying to "calm down." At that I had chuckled and taken it, him running away from me, as a compliment. After all, it was just because he had been horny and it was my fault. We had eaten in silence for the rest of lunch. That was fine by me. I stared at him the entire time and he shifted uncomfortably under my gaze the entire time. I don't think his cheeks have ever been their natural color around me. I feel slightly proud at that.

So, now, here we are, walking towards the dining room for late-dinner.

After lunch, Marcus and a few other church leaders had dragged us outside and made us partake in "fun" games such as flag football. Please, tell me what's fun about flag football? It was bo-ooring. It was also annoying hearing all the other guys complain about not being able to tackle. And for stupid reasons. The only reason they wanted to tackle the other guys was because they liked feeling all macho and tough. The only reason I wanted to tackle Justin was because, well, yeah.

Justin hadn't enjoyed the football thing at all.

At one point he had pretended spraining his ankle just so he could walk back to the cabin, come back with a book in his hand, sit on the sidelines and sketch. I almost considered doing the same thing but decided against it. That would've been obvious. First we're partners for camp and we both get hurt in the same hour of games? Yeah. So I had settled with running half-heartedly around the field pulling off people's flags. My teams and the other teams. Like I really gave a damn that I was ruining my teams chances. Plus, every time I did it, Justin would laugh and I like his laugh.

I'll admit that, although it's kind of stupid to admit it.

After football: more games.

I push lightly at Justin's shoulder.

"So, did ya have fun today?"

He snorts.

"Yeah. This is a lot more fun then I imagined."

"How's your ankle? Are you sure you should be walking on it?"

He smiles over at me and immediately puts on the fake limp that he's been using all day. He'd forget every now and then so I would have to remind him. Retard.

"It's still kinda sore…"

"Maybe I should carry you."

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds and I can imagining his cheeks turning that light shade of pink and that shy look activating in his eyes. He's so fucking easy.

"M-maybe you should."

This, I hadn't been expecting. Usually when I say anything like that he'll be quiet for about an hour. I grin and look down at him with a raised eyebrow. "It'd be my pleasure." I reach over to grab him, not really intending on picking him up at all. Especially with other church members walking not too far ahead of us and behind us. He takes a few steps back though, out of my reach. I tilt my head. "What?" His eyes leave mine for a second and seem to focus on my arm and then meet my eyes again. "What about your arm?"

I knew I shouldn't have freaked out this afternoon.

"There's nothing wrong with my arm."

My dad just kind of twisted it in the wrong direction a lot too much. He raises an eyebrow at me. The moonlight shining down on us allows me to see the look in his eyes. The look that says he doesn't believe a fucking word of what I'm saying. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Liar. I didn't grab you that hard this morning so there's obviously something wrong with your arm. If you don't want to tell me what's wrong then that's fine." I look away from him and watch as we get closer and closer to the dining room for dinner. I don't say anything at first because, well, I don't know what to say.

I can't tell him about my dad.

He'd freak. Then again, I should tell him. Aren't you supposed to have friends so you can tell them things like that? I sigh and look back over at him. He's still watching me curiously. The fake limp isn't in place but I don't tell him so. "It's hard to explain." He shrugs. "I have all night." I almost smile. I wish we could do other things tonight then talk about my fucked up home life. But I don't say so. "I don't like talking about it." His face softens and he smiles encouragingly at me. "You don't have to if you don't want to." Right then I decide that I will tell him…just because he looks really convincing with his eyes shining in the dark like that.

"No…I want to."

"Really?"

He seems slightly surprised but happy.

"Really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I sound fucking sure don't I?"

"…Sure."

I push him lightly on the shoulder.

"Aren't you supposed to be limping?"

J.T

I almost tell him to screw dinner 'cause I want to know everything. I want to know why this arm thing is so…secretive. I don't even feel that hungry anymore. I'm just curious. I'm hungry to hear what he has to say. And maybe to be alone with him…in a cabin…in a dark cabin…and the door locked…yeah. I really want to hear what he has to say too. Again, we sit at the furthest table and start eating in silence. I notice that Brian doesn't really eat. He more like picks at his food, shoving it around on his plate. A moment later Marcus is standing there and I'm not exactly sure why…maybe he's come to tell us about the goodness of not cussing or something like that.

"How's your ankle doing, Justin?"

Or to ask me how my ankle is.

"Uh…it's still kind of sore…"

"Did you put ice on it?"

"…No."

"It's probably swelling like crazy. You should really get a pack of ice from the kitchen to get the swelling down and rest. I wouldn't walk for a while if I were you."

I nod. Why the hell is he being nice to me? He's been avoiding me all day.

"Ok, yeah, sure. I'm actually pretty tired right now…maybe I'll just go now. Yeah…I'll go get that ice…"

Marcus nods, flashing a wide encouraging smile.

"That's a great idea. Want me to help you back?"

"I'll do it."

Brian has put his fork down and smiles over at me. Marcus hesitates for some reason and then nods. "Alright, sure. Goodnight boys. Lights out by eleven." ELEVEN? What the hell? Just because we're churchgoers doesn't mean we have to go to bed so damn early! I only nod and get up from the table feigning a look of pain as I do so. I'm pretty good at this faking stuff since Marcus actually reaches out and grabs my arm to help me off the bench. I smile, or maybe it's more of a grimace 'cause I don't want his hand on me, and pull my arm away from him. Brian's hand soon wraps warmly around the spot that Marcus's hand had been on and leads me out of the room without another word to Marcus.

As soon as we're out of the dining room:

"He was coming on to you."

I snort and start laughing. That's the most hilarious thing I've heard all day.

Ever actually.

"What? Brian, incase you haven't noticed…he's a church leader. Bible thumper. 'Oh, God, faggots should go to hell' type of guy. What are you talking about?"

"Guys come on to me all the time. I would know."

I blush slightly even though I didn't really come on to him…he came on to me.

"You're wrong."

"I am not."

"He was not coming on to me. That's just…no way."

"He was though. I'm dead serious."

I think about it. If what Brian's saying is true then…GROSS.

"I think I'm gonna be sick. Why'd you tell me?"

I think I really am going to be sick. If it's true then…that's one of the most disgusting things I've ever heard in my life. "I told you because…because." I frown. "Gee, thanks. I'm so glad you told me. I've been hot for Marcus ever since I first saw him." Brian chuckles. Actually chuckles! Fucking bastard. He has no right to laugh at this. This is disgusting. Sick. Wrong. Twisted. What would God say? I feel like puking and rub the spot on my arm that the man had grabbed on to. Brian swats at my hand and replaces his own hand over the same spot. "Sorry but I thought you should know. Plus, I wanted to let you know…that…I was jealous because I saw you first."

I. Hate. Blushing.

"Well, don't worry 'cause there's no competition."

"I hope not."

"Hope no longer 'cause there isn't. Eww."

"Good."

I smile slightly, open the screen door to the cabin, and lead the two of us inside. The lamp that I turn on doesn't seem very useful. It only lights up a small part of the cabin, the rest of the small room is dim. I turn to Brian, slow motion replays of what happened last time we were in here flashing behind my eyes, and smile weakly. "So…" Yeah, I'm so fucking smooth. He smiles slightly and shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets once again. "My dad finds pleasure in beating me." I smile, thinking he's joking. After all, how could he throw something out like that so casually? "Ha, ha. Very funny." He frowns. "I'm serious." My smile falters and I feel a little tightening in my stomach.

"W-what?"

"My mom's a frigid bitch and my dad gets drunk and beats me."

I blink. Oh. My. God. Is he fucking serious? He looks serious now. That tortured look is on his face again and his jaw is tense and clenched. I take a small step towards him. "I'm…" Shocked. Concerned. Angry. "I'm so sorry." And I mean it. I'm just not saying it to try and make him feel better. I'm not just saying it 'cause it seems like the right thing to say. He shrugs as if he doesn't care again and I shake my head. "I can't believe…I…you're so…how…" I realize I sound like an idiot so I clamp my mouth shut and look up at him with all the concern and anger I'm feeling at the moment.

All thoughts of him fucking me are gone.

For the moment anyway.

"It's ok…I survive."

I glare. Not at him…I just…glare.

"Yeah, for now. You can't go back there."

He laughs. I don't like the way it sounds. Icy, cold.

"Where else am I supposed to go?"

"You can live with me."

"What? And I'm supposed to hide in your closet until I'm eighteen?"

I shrug.

"So? You already hide in the closet anyway. What's one more to hide in?"

He grins, this one not so icy and cold.

"You have a point."

"I know."

"Are you for real?"

I shake my head up and down furiously.

"Of course I'm for real. They're hurting you. Plus, would they really care if you just…didn't show up at home?"

He shakes his head 'no' like I knew he would. "Ok then." I spin around and head over towards my bed. Suddenly his arms come around from behind, hands locking against my stomach and his chin coming to rest on my shoulder, and his teeth bite onto the lobe of my ear for a split second. My breath catches and thoughts of him fucking me are once again present in my mind. Present in my pants too. "It would be my pleasure to hide in your closet, Sunshine." Sunshine? I like it. But that might just be because he used it. "Sunshine?" His tongue slides up my neck until it reaches my ear.

"Yeah, 'cause you light up the entire room."

I grin, cheeks getting hotter. Girlgirlgirlgirl!

One of his hands slides down my stomach to cup my hardening cock through the rough material of my jeans and I know other parts of my body are going to be flushed in a few minutes time.