WARNING: Sexual scene coming up. It's more American Pie than porn, but if you don't want to read it you can skip until about halfway through the chapter.

Toilet Oysters

What happened next was a blur, Wyatt had somehow dragged or rather carried me through a sea of people, next thing I knew we were hiding out in the bathroom.

The surgically bright lighting sobered me up instantly which unfortunately meant I began to feel my injuries.

My eye in particular was stinging, and felt as though it was pulsating. The swelling in combination with the dried up blood, made it hard to see anything at all. Probably for the better, as it meant I could barely make out my reflection. Wyatt was busy dabbing paper towels against my forehead to soak up the blood.

"You look real nasty." He assured me. Then let out a timid giggle. "But you were so cool."

That certainly stroked my ego.

"I never meant to charge at him like that. I seem to have a hard time controlling my temper when you are involved."

Wyatt smiled saintly. He was doing a poor job at hiding how flattered he felt.

"I know I should not be telling you this but you were so fucking sexy out there. I could get used to watching you fight for me."

"I think we discovered one of your kinks." I teased and leaned in to kiss him. It hurt slightly due to my face being so inflamed, especially when he gripped the back of my head to push his tongue in deeper, but damn it made my stomach flutter. My legs were jelly, if I had not been leaning against the walls I would have collapsed into his arms then and there.

An idea came to me.

"Let's get into one of the cabins."

"Huh?"

"I've got a condom."

Truth was I had started keeping one in my wallet for good measure. To my surprise, he did not look too animated.

"Here? Dude, I want you. I've been jerking off to your Wikipedia page five times a day. They have a surprisingly hot picture of you. It's a crotch shot, real spicy stuff. Anyway, I'm not so sure I want to lose my virginity in a dirty club bathroom. Call me a romantic, but hoped it would be a little more special."

Aw, that was sweet actually.

"I just want to suck your cock."

"What?"

"I bought green tea flavoured condoms!"

I felt like a salesman pitching him a vacuum:

My mouth.

"Um, okay. I want to but this feels a bit like taking advantage of you. You are high."

"So are you." I insisted.

Wyatt was no longer protesting when I took his hand dragged him into the cabin. He also did not seem to mind when I unzipped his pants and reached into his underwear for his schlong. It was firm. Fascinating.

"Ouch, you're squishing it."

I apologised and tried to be more gentle, running my fingers along the shaft, staring at it and trying to work up the courage to put it in my mouth. It looked a lot more menacing now. Bouncy, and large. How would it even fit? There was no way my jaw was long enough! How did people do this?

He noticed my hesitancy. "You really don't have to."

No, I had been the one insisting on it, I had to follow through now.

Just close your eyes and do it, I told myself. I took one deep breath before closing my lips around it.

My first reaction was, huh? This was a bit underwhelming wasn't it?

What struck me as the weird was the absence of any strong taste. I had completely forgotten about my green tea condoms but I did not need them as it just tasted fleshy, like I was licking my own skin. It was a bit of a let-down. I ran my tongue along it, trying to pick up on any flavours, aside from some saltiness when nibbling his slit, it was like licking an unseasoned potato. It reminded me of my father's cooking actually.

"Oh fuck." I heard Wyatt cry.

I still did not dare to open my eyes so I had to guess his reaction based on the inflection of his voice, which was uneven.

"I can't believe you are sucking my cock." He said, breathing harder.

I worked my way further up the shaft. He spasmed, but not in a good way.

"Ouch, ouch, teeth." He shrieked.

What was I supposed to do with them? They were in my mouth, where could I possibly put them? I opened my mouth wider, aiming to work more with my lips. It made my jaw clench up painfully but seemed well worth it as Wyatt let out a stifled moan.

Suddenly someone banged hard against the plywood wall, making me flinch which pushed Wyatt's member deeper into my throat. I choked for a second before coughing it up. All I could think in that moment was that his balls touched my chin. I was officially gay.

"Can you guys keep it down? I'm trying to do drugs here." A frustrated voice bellowed from the cabin next door.

Oh god, how humiliating!

And worse, now that my head was clear, I noticed there was a pubic hair stuck in my teeth. I shivered. Disgusting.

"Fuck off!" Wyatt spat back, hamming against the wall himself. Then looked down at me. "Keep going, honey." He said sweetly.

"Maybe this was not such a good idea after all." I acknowledged.

"You can't just leave me hanging, now!" He pleaded.

"Am I doing well, then?"

He chuckled. "No, you are terrible at it. But fuck! You swallowing my dick is the hottest thing I've ever seen!"

Eager to prove him wrong I continued. Like hell was I going to lose to Enrique.

Seemed I was going at it a little too competitively. In my effort to deep throat him I kept suffocating myself.

"You don't have to keep on gagging. Just keep twirling your tongue around the tip. I like that." He instructed me.

"Can you hurry up? I really need to use the toilet." Another dismembered voice shouted.

"Use the urinal." Wyatt told him.

"But I have to take a crap."

"USE THE URINAL!"

"Okay, man. Chill."

Soon after, we heard grunting and panting noises.

"Wait is he actually shitting in the urinal?" I pondered.

"Yes." The voice confirmed, sounding very pained. "And it's leaking everywhere."

He did not need to tell me for I could smell it. Due to my mouth being otherwise occupied I was still forced to breathe through my nose.

"Should we stop? This is kinda killing the mood." I suggested.

Wyatt was not the least bit bothered.

"This is so fucking hot." He moaned. I had never seen his faced so red before. Sweat was dripping down his neck and he was panting hard.

"This is? Me sucking you off in a cubicle while someone is publicly dropping a deuce right next to us? Everyone can hear us." I protested.

"That's what makes it hot."

"That's sick man." The guy on the urinal said poignantly.

"Please keep talking." Wyatt cried. "And sucking." He added just for me.

I kept going, wanting to finish him off already. Wyatt kept shouting my name, clearly putting on a show for the ill-fated patrons of the bathroom. Seemed he was the exhibitionist, after all.

Despite the humiliation, I was actually getting rather bored. My neck was strained, my head pounding, my wound had cracked open, the act was feeling more and more like an unimaginative work out. I was running out of things to do and kept repeating the same three moves. I even used my hand to cup his balls, hoping it would speed up the process. That seemed to do the trick.

"I'm about to blow." He whimpered.

"Finally." The shitter said, summarising my very own thoughts.

Before I had time to pull away and duck for clearance Wyatt let out a final "OH YES!" and shot his spunk all over my face, hair, and shirt. Unfortunately, some of it landed in my mouth too. It was gross. Too salty. Still not as nasty as oysters, though, so I swallowed.

-x-x-x-

I did my best not to make eye contact with the guy currently rinsing out his poop drenched underpants as I washed my face.

"I would just toss those if I were you." Wyatt remarked, still giddy with a bright smile plastered across his face.

The shitter shot him the stink eye, which had little effect on him. Wyatt was contently humming "The Circle of Life" and tap dancing across the tiles.

The guy turned his attention to me. "I thought you were a girl, actually. I could tell by your voice but your tramp stamp threw me off. No offense."

My back must have peaked through the gap in the stalls.

What was I expected to say to that? It felt impolite not to reply, considering what we made him see and do.

"Thank you for being a part of this." I tried.

He shivered. "And with that, I'm out."

-x-x-x-

When we joined back up with the others it only took a second for Enrique to repel me with his obnoxiousness. Rather than apologise for picking a fight and nearly getting us kicked out, he tried to stir up shit, once again.

"Hah!" he shouted, holding his stomach in laughter, his eyes were tearing. "You did it, I can't believe you actually did it!"

How on Earth did he know? Did he sense the vibe? Did he smell my breath?

"Hey everyone!" He shouted at a crowd of French people who couldn't give less of a merde. "Look at the little cocksucker! He made his boyfriend cum on his first attempt, isn't that cute?"

An unimpressed French girl rolled her eyes and blew smoke in his face.

"Ricky, will you fuck off." Wyatt groaned. "Besides, that's more than you ever accomplished." He added under his breath.

Heh. What did it matter if I humiliated myself as long as I still beat Enrique?

Meanwhile, Bryce discretely handed me his cashmere cardigan. I was rather taken aback by this sudden act of kindness, and thanked by staring back in confusion.

He was looking more flustered than me, even avoiding eye contact.

"You got a little something on you." He hinted.

"Huh?" I said, looking down at my chest.

FUCK!

Oh, the horror! Unspeakable horror!

I had entirely forgotten about the blacklight!

My black tank top was speckled in glowing white spots. As were Wyatt's pants.

Why on Earth would they be using blacklights in clubs? Surely people bang in the bathrooms, all the time! Maybe it is to keep them from doing so? Deterrence by humiliation, with the cum working as some sort of glowing scarlet letter, identifying people as whores to everyone they pass in the crowd.

I wasn't going to stick around and take it. I had to get out of here before anyone else saw or recognised me. I elegantly pushed my way through the crowd withe the grace and agility of a baby hippo, ignoring Wyatt's calls. Luckily everyone around me was wasted. And what were the odds of running into someone I knew in some posh club in Switzerland? Realistically speaking, they had to be pretty slim. Besides, everyone whose opinion mattered to me was at the Beyblade tournament.

"Kai!"

Apart from that guy. Shit.

Dad was lingering close the bar, his hands groping a slim Russian girl, who only looked about two years my senior. Gross.

Props to my father for managing to be even more sleezy than me.

"Papa? What are you doing here?"

I had switched to Russian for some privacy, not realising it actually allowed the girl to be privy to our conversation. Not like it realistically mattered.

"Wait, this is your son?" She asked him, perplexed.

He face twisted into a grimace as she seemed to re-evaluate her life. She methodically removed my father's flat hand from her ass, then shuffled off, shoulders drooping. Most likely to reconnect with her slightly less creepy same-age boyfriend.

My father didn't seem all too heartbroken. He barely acknowledged her leaving, instead looking down at me with a stern expression. I claimed the girls beer, praying to god he hadn't roofied her. It was my beer now. I attempted to take a few big sips, playing it cool, though most of my drink ran down the side of my face.

"Wassup?" I slurred.

"Son. You are covered in cum." My father observed.

"Yeah." I admitted shamefully. "It's not mine though."

"That makes it worse."

"You're not going to high-five me?"

"I'm your Dad, that would be fucked."

"What, because I'm a man and I like doing manly man stuff with another man?" I hollered. Hoping that acting offended would get me off the hook. It was a last hail Mary, but hey, can't claim I threw in the towel. An argument with my father was not all too different from a beybattle, I realised. I couldn't tell you why now, that I sobered up, but trust me, I had some great points.

My father rolled his eyes at me.

"No, precisely because you are not a man. I am all for you exploring your sexuality in a healthy way, but you just gave head in a public bathroom."

"Did not." I protested. Momentarily forgetting the glowing evidence.

He put his arm around me. "Let's go, kiddo."

I pushed him off me, in the process spilling most of my beer on him.

It ran down his shirt, probably soaking all the way down to his socks. Needless to say I wasn't quite done with him. I tossed to cup to his feet, indisputably drenching his socks now, just so I could point my finger at him. It did not occur to me that I could have used my other hand.

"You are a nasty, uncompassionate, cruel..." what was my point again? Oh right! "...nasty, cruel homophobe! And drunk. You're a drunk. A drunk failure."

I really told him off there! And no, I was not aware of the irony.

"Okay, kiddo, I will take that into consideration. But for now, just come with me. Let's get you something to munch on, some pizza? Fries and a burger, how does that sound?"

"I don't want to go with you because you are a loser, and you turn everyone around you into lesser versions of themselves. Not just me. Judy too. She's gonna leave you, you know. Just like your wife left. You're nothing but a useless drunk."

He was silent for a while. I thought that did it.

Seemingly disregarding the spunk, he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I was pressed tightly, cocooned between his firm chest and strong arms (he did spend all his time doing crossfit whenever he wasn't getting hammered). I was being tucked into his embrace and for a moment, I felt snug and shielded from the world.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell me what happened. It's over now, I got you. I came for you." I could feel something wet trickling down my neck. Were they my own tears or his? "I will hail a cab, and when we get to the hotel you can take a shower, I will even let you sleep in bed with me like in the old days. Before you were a proud, loudmouthed teenager."

It did sounds nice to leave myself in his care. I hadn't even thought about how I'd get away from this spot and where I'd even go. I sure as hell didn't want to return to Wyatt's summer residence. So I allowed my Dad to swoon me away.

-x-x-x-

The next morning I awoke to a killer headache and an overwhelming feeling of shame. Closing my eyes, I tried to force myself back asleep. Back into dream land. Where things were abstract and fun, where I hadn't sucked Wyatt's cock and everyone knew about it.

Including my father.

Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!

I found a crinkled note in the pocket of my pants. Upon further inspection it turned out to be the poem bearing my inconceivable love for Wyatt. The psalm, I reminded myself. It read as follows:

K-hole

Don't K-hole

Wyatt is not an A-hole

Watch out for the Jews.

Oh God. This is more hate speech than a love letter. I will never do drugs again!

Though it was a comforting idea that Michaels madness might not be due to a mental health break but drugs instead. I thought about raising the point but if they would start randomly drug testing, my ass would be on the line too.

-x-x-x-

Despite my hangover, I insisted on having Dad drive me to Wyatt's summer residence where his parents would surely be expecting me already. A butler greeted us at the door and lead us through the opulent corridors to the sunny patio where brunch was being served.

Wyatt was sitting on the far end of the table, head slumped, hands covering his face. He didn't even react when I approached.

"Hey Baby." I said with conviction.

Huh, what could have compelled me to use that wording?

I reminded myself of what my father had drilled into me. When ashamed act confident as to convince others you have done nothing to be ashamed of! Therefore, I wrapped my arm around Wyatt's shoulders, and planted a kiss on his lips. He flinched and jerked back. Sharp amber eyes stared at me in horror.

Wait! They weren't supposed to be amber.

"Wrong twin." Mr Smithwright remarked, mildly amused.

"What the fuck?" Bryce yelled, violently rubbing his lips with his napkin. "You sucked my brother's dirty cock with that mouth of yours!"

He shot up dramatically and stormed out of the room. Well, that was a bit of an overreaction.

I awkwardly smiled at Wyatt's Dad. This could not have gone worse.

"I didn't, by the way." I tried to argue.

Luckily, he was equally unwilling to keep discussing his son's sex life, so he dropped the topic immediately.

"That was awfully rude of Bryce. I know he has a hangover but if he can't handle it he shouldn't be drinking. Seems Wyatt got it even worse than him, he refused to get out of bed this morning."

Possibly, because Bryce was the only one of us smart enough not to snort the Mystery Molly.

Needless to say, the brunch had been cancelled. Therefore, I had dragged myself out of bed, forced myself awake with an icy shower, and ridden the train here for nothing.

Mr Smithwright suggested to instead take the yacht out, that way the more functional victims, Bryce and I, could spend some time bonding with him on our way to the wine mixer. With my stomach being the way it was, the last thing I wanted to do was get on shaky grounds. I meant that literally. Hurling on his boat scared me more than the thought of being alone with my in-laws. Actually no. Right now, even the reminder that I had in-laws and responsibilities that came with them was absolutely overwhelming.

I looked over to my father, pleadingly.

He shook his head. I nodded violently. Finally, he resigned.

"Actually, this might be a good time for us to connect too. For you to get to know our family better. Why don't we have brunch?." He proposed.

"Excellent idea." Mr Smithwright hollered, eagerly clapping his hands together. "What have you been up to, Danila? Do you have a job?"

Why did he ask that? Was my Dad's reputation so far in the gutter that even the other trustfund babies considered him a deadbeat?

-x-x-x-

I had received instructions on where to find Wyatt, but his home was a maze. For a moment I thought I caught him sobbing on a bench in the atrium, but I made sure to take a double take. As feared, it was Bryce again.

Well, this was awkward. I was godawful at comforting people too. Would he even want me to? I decided I owed it to him to try, as this was my fault after all.

"I'm sorry I kissed you. But it won't make you gay." I reassured him.

"I know that, I'm not an idiot." He grunted.

So I had invaded his boundaries then. I could hardly blame him for being upset, I would react equally as poorly to anyone getting intimate with me without my consent, quite possibly, even worse. I would have hated it.

"I'm not scared of your cooties." He added, as though he had read my mind.

Would it be okay to ask him why he was crying? Or would that cross some other boundary? We had only just met, after all. Once again, he answered that question for me.

"It's really none of your business."

"It is if I caused it."

That made him chuckle. He proudly wiped away a tear. "Don't flatter yourself. This goes way back."

Good enough for me.

If he was anything like me, he would want me gone. Best way I could help him was to make that happen.

"How do I get to your brother's room?" I asked.

"The mosaic tiles in the corridor are being restored, so it's a bit of a hassle. You need to pass through the Pasadena Garden and enter via the North Tower."

Only posh people had parts of their house named after cardinal directions.

"I think you need a key, actually. Sod it! I'll have to come with you." He realised.

I gave him an appreciative nod.

An awkward atmosphere hung over us as we made our way through the Pasadena Garden, which looked just like any other posh garden, with rhododendrons and decorative terracotta planters. Just like his brother, Bryce felt compelled to fill the silence.

"I'm sorry, I've been so cruel to you. You're quite alright, actually."

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"You could be better!" He remarked. "Ricky is my best mate, but he is absolutely not good enough for my brother. He is a terrible influence on Wyatt. I thought you were different, that you would have a calming effect, but you let yourself get swayed just as easily as him."

I felt called out. Rightfully so.

"I'm not proud of what happened last night."

"You're not the only one, trust me. Ricky has a very magnetic effect on people. He mesmerises them. Sometimes I even ask myself why I still stick to him the way I do."

Could it be? That's what he was hinting at wasn't it?

"So the rivalry between you and Wyatt is down to you both having a thing for Enrique?"

He stopped like a dear in headlights. Face frozen in horror.

"Don't tell anyone." He said menacingly. His glare could cut someone.

At first it didn't make sense to me why he was acting so alarmed. Why it was such a big deal in the first place? But the more I thought about what had occurred, with Bryce's true motivations in mind, the worse it made his actions seem.

"You didn't rat him out because you worried about his drinking. That was a calculated move to get him away from Enrique."

He was trembling now, clutching the sleeves of his cashmere sweater.

"It wasn't calculated. It influenced my decision, of course. But I still thought I was doing the right thing. It's more that I was seduced by the thoughts and my defences were weakened. It didn't take as much to justify ratting him out as it should have. Trust me. I feel guilty about it. He hates me and I can't even blame him. If he ever finds out the truth, I will lose him forever."

I could hardly comment on that. It was something between him and Wyatt. Though I had no interest in complicating things further.

"Is that what you were crying about?"

"I wish it was just that. It took him a year to reluctantly start speaking to me again, and that is only cause I had his back during this whole marriage fiasco."

Fiasco? I hadn't realised that is how his family viewed our relationship. How charming of them.

"I'm the worst human being on this planet. I can't fuck his life up again. Of course, he'll be pissed about the kiss. He is only showing you his best side. You have no idea how petty he can be."