For the Fans

by Nyla K.

I’m kind of a weirdo, and I don’t want to have to change myself just to make friends. I’m a strong believer in it’ll happen if and when it happens. If there are people out there who also love art and emo music from before their time, who fan over cryptids and true crime and Tarantino, then we’ll eventually find each other and become friends. Why force it?

Ah, the introvert’s paradox. Waiting for other nerds to come to you.

“I’m gonna… come,” he croaks, hauling me closer by my shirt until I’m hovering over him, our hands bumping together in the furious chase. The swollen tips of our cocks brush and a shuddering cry brings hoarse words from his lips. “Fuck… Fuck you, Avi… fuck you, I’m gonna fucking come for you.”

Because that’s the thing about distraction… if the truth is powerful enough, it’ll always manage to shove a hand up through the dirt.

He’s a bizarre character… A nerd who’s not good at school. An emo kid who smiles all the time. An artist with more muscle than some of the dudes on my team.

He smashes his hips against my face, feeding his big cock into my throat while I struggle to breathe. Then he releases my dick, all wet and swollen as he whimpers, “Kyran… I’m gonna come. Fuck yess, I’m gonna… come.” Even if I wanted to, there’s no moving away. I’m trapped beneath him. But the sickest part is that as soon as the words leave his lips, I’m waiting for it. Like it’s my reward for doing well… I want it.

“I’m not gonna fuck you for money, Avi,” he growls. My gaze narrows at him. “Who says you’d be fucking me?”

“I want to destroy you like you destroyed me.”

“Well, then…” His eyes spring back up to mine, and I didn’t think it was possible, but my cheeks flush ever harder. “Looks like we found our bottom.”

This thing was already complicated as fuck before. But now, with these stupid butterflies bounding around in my gut, it’s just turned into the biggest mess of my life. He bottomed… But I feel like I’m the one who’s fucked.

Avi: Please, baby? I’ve been thinking about your ass all day... I’m fucking dripping for it

“Tell me…” His voice trails off, and he gulps. I peer down at him, and his cheeks are all manners of flushed. “Tell you what?” He swallows visibly again, whispering, “Tell me you think I’m beautiful.”

My goal since I was twelve years old has been to stuff it all down. Avoid, distract, deny. That’s how I cope… The only way I’m even surviving the endless inner torment known as my life.

Life… This is the pain of life, and it’s just so motherfucking bleak.

If you’re broken, then we should all be so fucking broken, because goddamn, Kyran… you’re incredible.”

Pausing, I take in a steady inhale, reminding myself that I can’t control how other people react to things. I can only control my own actions.

“No, I’m sorry. You said something… You said, ‘You have to just move on, Kyran. Dwelling on it will only give it power.’ Great advice for a twelve-year-old who just told you his goddamn priest stuffed a cock down his throat.”

Tell them Ky