November 1983

I'm relaxing on my bed after a tough week of classes when I hear the knock on my apartment door. I can't imagine who it might be. Kay has already taken off for Thanksgiving break, and all she could talk about was convincing Greg to go with her. I assume she had succeeded in her quest.

The knocking continues insistently as I quickly go to answer it. "Hold on, okay?" I yell. "I'm coming."

I push myself up to look through the peephole, surprised at my visitor. Apparently Kay didn't succeed in Mission Bring Home The Boyfriend.

I open the door and step aside. "Greg, this is a surprise. I thought you were going away with Kay."

He fixes me with a sharp glare. "I don't do family stuff."

"I see." I answer carefully, even though I don't. Kay and Greg have been going out for almost three months now. It only seems right that he go meet her family.

"No you don't." Greg scoffs and plops down on my couch. "What are you doing here?"

"I decided to stay here." I explain. "Too much work to do."

"Still on that work kick, huh?" Greg snorts derisively. "It's Thanksgiving break. Give it a rest."

"I am." I tell him. "Matter of fact, I was reading when you showed up."

"Wow, stop the presses." Greg mocks. "Jude, slow down a little. The excitement might kill you."

I let out a sharp huff. "Just because I don't like to party doesn't mean my life is boring."

"Didn't say that." Greg answered. "But it wouldn't kill you to get out more."

"Fine." I fold my arms over my chest. "What do you suggest?"

"Pizza, followed by live music." Greg tells me. "I know a few places."

I glance down at my current choice of attire, a U of M sweatshirt, jeans, and worn out jogging shoes. Greg waves a hand at me. "You're a student. You're supposed to look like crap."

I can't help comparing myself to Greg. Under his ski jacket, he's wearing a button down oxford shirt, the tails hanging over his jeans, those red and white Nikes still on his feet, although they look a little more worn than they did back in September.

He gives me an exasperated look. "Are we going out, or are you going to stare at me all night?"

I choose not to answer that, instead grabbing a down vest off the rack near the door. "Fine, let's go."

We end up in a pizza place not far off campus, sharing a large pepperoni and a pitcher of cheap beer, eating in somewhat comfortable silence. He glances at the girls who pass through, barely nodding in acknowledgement when a few of them flash him a quick smile.

"You're pretty popular." I comment casually.

"Jealous?" He asks mockingly.

"Not at all."

Greg looks thoughtful, pondering a piece of pepperoni he's just pulled off his slice. "Where do you go, you know, to meet people?"

"I don't really know." I admit. "Kay keeps trying to fix me up with people, but…" I shake my head.

"Right." Greg rolls his eyes. "No time."

"Exactly." I feel defensive for no good reason.

Greg falls silent again, taking a long drink of his beer before appraising me again. "You're using it as an excuse."

"So what if I am?" I answer sharply. "It's hardly your concern."

He narrows his eyes at me before shaking his head. "Right. Ready to hear some music?"

"Sure."

We split the tab and head out into the night to a nearby bar. The music is audible even through the closed door, and I can spot a slight smile come over Greg's face.

Even though I know I don't have a chance with him, I still enjoy watching him as we find a table and order another pitcher of beer. He's drumming his fingers on the table, bobbing his head to the music, clearly enjoying himself.

The music is good, and after a couple more beers, I finally feel myself start to unwind a little. It feels good to kick back and relax with…

Is Greg a friend? I'm still not sure. We sit in renal systems a couple times a week, trading quips and making fun of our professor, and we've sort of hung out with Kay. But I always felt like a third wheel with those two, especially when they would practically start making out in the living room as if I wasn't there.

He's still not exactly what I would call friendly, keeping everyone at arm's length, Kay included. I've hung out with him for a couple of months, but I don't feel like I know him any better than I did back in September. I wonder if Kay feels the same way.

The set ends, and Greg finishes off the beer in the pitcher, draining the glass before looking across the table at me. "You look like you're finally starting to loosen up."

I let out a brief laugh. "I kind of feel loose."

Greg rolls his eyes. "You're drunk."

"Just a little."

He smirks at me. "I like you. You're a cheap date."

"Shut up." I ball up a napkin and throw it at him.

He laughs, and I catch a good look at him. When he's relaxed, like he is now, he really is quite handsome. Now I finally see what Kay sees in him.

"Quit staring at me." His expression changes slightly. "It's creepy."

"Why?" I stare harder, resting my chin on my hands.

"Because, it just…is." Greg grumbles, glancing down at the table.

"Because I'm queer, right?" I snort derisively.

"Duh." He snorts in disgust.

"Oh, relax." I roll my eyes. "I know you're not like that. You're perfectly safe."

Greg nods, still looking vaguely uncomfortable, and I let out a little huff. "Look, I know this is weird, okay? Hanging out with my friend's boyfriend isn't exactly how I planned on spending my Thanksgiving weekend, either."

Greg continues to stare at the table, playing with his beer glass. "We broke up." He tells me quietly. "I didn't want to go with her for Thanksgiving, we had this huge fight, and she stormed off."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." I'm surprised. Normally Kay would have called me immediately, nearly hysterical.

Greg's eyes flick up to meet mine. "Really? I figured you'd be the first one she told." He shakes his head. "Anyway. I didn't want to go with her, and I didn't want to go home, so…I took a chance and knocked on your door."

I look Greg in the eye, trying to figure out what was going on behind those beautiful blue eyes. "I'm glad you did. You were right. I need to get out more."

Greg gives me a small smile at that. "Yeah, you do."

He flags down the waitress and gives her some cash to cover the beer before rising from the table, stumbling slightly.

I can't help but laugh at him. "I thought you could hold your alcohol."

"Usually I can." Greg answers.

"So what's your problem?"

"No problem." He slings an arm around my shoulders as we lumber out of the bar. "Just drank a little more than usual."

We stumble out onto the sidewalk, his arm still looped around my shoulder, and he suddenly starts singing. "Na, na, na, na, na, na, na…na, na, na, na…hey Jude…" He squeezes me a little. "Come on, Jude, sing it with me."

Before I know it we're both bellowing the closing chorus as we wander back to my apartment. I let out a little sigh as I stand on the porch. "I guess this is where I get off."

Greg snorts. "All by yourself?"

I groan at his crude joke. "Sadly, yes."

"That is sad." Greg gives me a serious look. "You should do something about that."

"Maybe I will." I'm feeling oddly bold. Not that it will go anywhere. I'm pretty sure the amount of beer I've consumed will keep much of anything from happening.

Greg laughs and shakes his head, taking a step back and shoving his hands in the pockets of his ski jacket. "No you won't. You'll just hole up in your tower, toiling away, jacking off when the urge gets too strong."

He's probably right, but I don't need it laid out for me. "Or maybe I'll get out there and find someone to do it for me."

Greg's expression changes, and he seems curious. "So that's how it works, huh? I've always wondered."

"Always?" I move closer, emboldened by the alcohol that courses through my veins.

He looks a little awkward, and he takes another step back. "I don't mean like that. I mean…theoretically."

"Oh." A long silence stretches out between us. Finally I speak again, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I wasn't…you know…"

"Yeah, sure." Greg looks at me skeptically, still unsure. "Have you even done anything with anyone?"

"I've tried with a few girls." I tell him.

"And you didn't like it." Greg concludes. "So what, you let a few bad experiences scare you off?"

"Nooo…" I spoke carefully, not sure that I really wanted to reveal so much of myself. "I just…I don't know. I was always attracted to guys, even though I knew it was wrong. I just couldn't help it."

Greg rolled his eyes. "It's not a mental disease anymore, you know."

"No, but it's still an aberration." I point out. "That's what my parents say."

"You still care what your parents think?" Greg looks incredulous. "How old are you?"

"I care long enough for them to finish paying for med school." I laugh darkly. "I'll come out to them eventually. Maybe."

"If it were me, I wouldn't give a shit." Greg told me. "My dad doesn't like me anyway. What's one more thing?"

I sigh, shoving my hands in my jeans pockets. "I'm still close to them. I guess I just don't want to break their hearts."

Greg simply stood there, looking oddly pensive. "That's good, I guess. That you still get along with them."

"Yeah." I shake my head. "I'm thinking that will change if I tell them."

"So don't tell them." Greg snaps. "Live a lie."

"I usually do." I answer quietly. "Maybe someday I won't have to, but for right now…I guess I have to."

Greg studies me, moving a little closer. "Have you ever done anything with a guy?"

"Not much." I reply, my heart pounding a little faster.

"So how do you know if you like it?"

"Oh, trust me." I laugh nervously. "I know."

He tilts his head, his eyes boring into me. I don't even dare to hope that Greg's about to do what I think he's going to do. He's not into guys, I'm sure of that. And while I find him attractive in that awkward, geeky kind of way, I'm not sure I want anything from him. Besides, how weird would it be for Kay and me to have had the same guy?

In the midst of my musings, I feel Greg's lips touch mine. It's more of a brush, really, a very tentative move, as if I'm going to give him queer cooties if he goes much farther.

He pulls back, regarding me curiously. "That wasn't so bad. I don't see what the big deal is."

"You barely touched me." I snort. "I dare you to kiss me for real."

Where the hell did that come from? What was this, junior high?

A half smile curved over Greg's face as he leaned in again, stopping just short of my lips. "You sure about this?"

"I'm very sure." I answer boldly. "What about you?"

"Never been more sure of anything." He responds.

"Then do it." I challenge him.

He closes his eyes and leans in, pressing his lips to mine, not nearly so tentative this time. His tongue grazes along my lips, seeking entrance, and I let him in, allowing his tongue to wander around my mouth until it tangles up with mine.

I slide my hands to the back of his head, running my fingers through his surprisingly soft hair while he runs his thumbs over my cheekbones. Neither one of us has broken the kiss. If anything, it's deepening, and I don't want it to stop.

One of us lets out a little moan, and I can't tell if it's him or me. He takes my face in his hands, pressing further until our bodies are nearly touching, and I'm almost praying that he can't feel my reaction.

Something bumps against my leg, and it nearly startles me. Greg might not be able to feel my reaction, but his is blatantly obvious. I don't want him to freak out on me, not when his mouth on mine feels so damn good, so I decide to ignore it.

Finally he breaks away from me, regarding me with a slightly wide-eyed expression. "You're a really good kisser." He tells me. "You might have turned me."

"Oh shut up." I snap irritably. "That's ridiculous."

Greg keeps staring at me, not moving away. "So now what?"

"What do you mean?" I'm a little baffled.

"I mean…what comes next?" He continues. "This isn't like doing it with a girl. You're going to have to tell me what to do."

He's got to be kidding me. There's no way Greg wants this. He was just dating my friend a few days before.

I push him away. "You don't really want this."

"Not-So-Little Greg would argue otherwise." Greg counters.

"But you're straight." I argue.

He sighs. "I'm a little drunk and a lot horny. So are you. Might as well solve both our problems."

I stare him down, searching for any sign that he's not absolutely serious about this. I can't find any.

"Fine." I relent, turning to open the main door to the apartment house. "Come on."

He follows me up the stairs to my door, and I fumble with the door to open it. The last time I had a guy back here, it didn't go so well, and I have no urge for a repeat performance.

I hear Greg close the door behind him, and he takes off the ski jacket and dumps it on the floor. I'm too nervous to say anything, still worried that he'll bolt on me. He moves to remove my vest, letting it slide to the floor, and suddenly his lips are on mine again, his tongue slipping into my mouth and rolling around, his hands moving up and down my back.

I eagerly take him in, pressing my body against his and sliding my arms around his waist, nearly pushing him into the door. The kissing becomes more intense, if that's possible, and I can feel his hands start to creep up the back of my sweatshirt.

I take that as my cue to move further, my shaky hands moving to the buttons on his shirt, slowly undoing them one at a time until it's fully open, letting my hands spread over his chest, running through the wiry hair there.

Greg pulls back ever so slightly, surprised to find himself nearly half undressed already. Suddenly he seems unsure, though his hands slide up the front of my sweatshirt, sending little waves of pleasure through me.

His thumbs brush over my nipples, and he halfheartedly gives my chest a little squeeze. I gasp in response, arching into him, and his mouth quirks in a little half-smile.

"See, this is the weird part." He tells me, lightly running his hands over my chest. "No boobs."

I roll my eyes and lean in to kiss him. "It's not too late to call it a night."

His surprisingly soft lips and tongue are his only reply as he pushes the sweatshirt up and off my body, letting it land God knows where, and I do the same with his shirt. We're pressed chest to chest, skin to skin, hands roaming everywhere.

I start moving toward the button on his jeans, but Greg makes a little noise in response.

"What's the matter?" I murmur. "Chickening out?"

"Not a chance." Greg rasps out. "You?"

"No way." I respond, working at the button and zipper on his jeans.

"Hold on." Greg mutters, running his hands up and down my ribcage.

He is chickening out on me. I should have known. I let out a short sigh. "Look, if you don't want to do this, it's no big deal. I won't tell anyone."

"That's not it." Greg shakes his head, his hands continuing to move over my body. "I want it. It's just…you know. Weird. That's all."

I roll my eyes. "Let me guess. 'It's not you, it's me.'"

Greg gives me a dark look. "Sure, mock me. Just because you've done this before and I haven't…"

"This is about as far as I've ever gotten with a guy." I tell him, not just to reassure him, but because it's the truth.

"You're kidding me." Greg glares at me.

"I swear that I'm not." I brush a bit of unruly brown hair away from his forehead. "But if you still want to stop, we can."

Greg takes my face in his hands and captures my lips in a rough kiss, shoving his tongue into my mouth and pushing me forward, nearly sending me to the floor. I find my footing just in time, pushing back with equal force, returning to finish what I started, and I can feel Greg following suit.

I slide his jeans and underwear down, his erection springing out as I do so, and I can feel my own throbbing, pressing against the tight material that still encloses it. Greg seems to take a deep breath before pushing down my jeans and underwear in one move, and I can feel the jolt when our cocks touch. Judging from the little gasp that escapes Greg's mouth, he felt it, too.

I guide him to the floor as best I can, but it isn't terribly graceful. We end up kind of falling over each other, and he cracks his head on the floor as he lands.

"Ow." He groans a little, and I can't help snickering a little. The situation is more than a little ridiculous. Neither one of us has much of a clue what we're doing here. It's merely blind desire that drives us.

"You okay?" I lean down to kiss him. "You want me to kiss your boo-boo?"

He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and strokes my jaw with his thumb. "My boo-boo isn't what needs to be taken care of."

"Your pillow talk needs work."

"Good thing there aren't any pillows, then." Greg answers. "We going to do this or what?"

He's starting to lose his nerve. For that matter, so am I. I nod firmly and return to kissing him, slowly, gently, working his jeans off him as far as I can before Greg shoves off his shoes and manages to kick them off the rest of the way.

"You next." He tells me after he pulls back. "Be damned if I'm the only one getting naked here."

Greg pushes me over to my back and tugs at my jeans while I get rid of my shoes, and we're soon both laying naked, hands exploring everywhere, finding all kinds of sensitive areas. His nipples, the small of my back, the inside of his thigh, the base of my throat.

I'm so into the exploration that I don't care if I ever get off. Greg, however, seems to feel differently, pressing his body against me and grinding our cocks together.

That nearly sends me over, the shockwaves of pleasure unlike anything I've ever felt. I've done the bump-and-grind thing, but having nothing between us changes the whole equation. Instead of being sort of uncomfortably pleasurable, it's unbelievably erotic, and I let out a groan as I arch toward him, meeting his thrusts stroke for stroke.

He wraps himself around me, his thrusts coming faster now as we both grunt and groan, both of us seeking release that seems like a lifetime in coming. Out of pure frustration, I slip a hand between us, taking both our cocks in my hand and tugging at them while we continue to thrust.

Finally he unloads with a loud moan in my ear, shooting sticky warm fluid all over us as I finish myself off not long after. I jerk upwards with a low moan, shaking as I come down, the feeling of release washing over me as I let my head hit the floor with a hard 'thunk'."

Greg stares down at me, seemingly fascinated. I give him a questioning look. "What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head before leaning down to give me a kiss. "Think we could do that again?"

"Are you serious?"

He shrugs, his eyes still looking a little glassy. Whether it's from the beer or the sex, I have no idea. "Yeah, I'm serious."

I let out a little sigh, reaching out to stroke his face. "Maybe we ought to wait until you're sober."

"How do you know I'm not?" He counters.

"Because I'm not. And I didn't have nearly as much to drink as you." I push him off me and stagger to my feet. "I need a shower."

I feel a hand wrap around my calf, and I look down to see Greg staring up at me, an almost sad expression in his eyes.

I let out a short huff. "Look, I'm not rejecting you. I just think that…you know, you'll change your mind when you sober up."

"I won't." He tells me stubbornly. "And I need a shower, too."

The sight of him spread out on my living room floor, covered in our fluids, that somber expression on his face does something to me that I can't quite explain. I hold out a hand to him. "Come shower with me."

He smirks and uses my hand to pull himself up, leaning down to give me a sloppy kiss before following me into the bathroom.

We have a repeat performance in the shower, and Greg takes the lead this time, wrapping his long fingers around my member and slowly working it up and down while I do the same to him, staying in until the hot water is gone and we're both completely spent.

He falls asleep first, snoring deeply as he curls under the blankets, still naked. I can't help but think what will happen when I wake up. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find him gone, and I can imagine the awkward glances we'll share in class later on.

For now, though, I'm not going to worry about it. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

# # #

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