Not Gay - Chapter 22

Jay thinks he finally gets the hang of it. Of him and Darren being a couple. There’s a moment one night, as they are standing in line at the cinema, when Darren manages to grab Jay’s hand that is dangling at his side, and Jay almost jumps over the trash can behind them. But then he holds Darren’s left hand tighter, capturing the stiff fingers in his, and pretends his mind isn’t reeling. He tells himself he doesn’t notice people looking, more than they usually do when Darren is around.
Next thing Jay knows, a few days later, as they are huddling together outside in their coats, enjoying the last rays of the winter sun in the park, sipping hot coffee from paper cups, Jay leans over, both coffee cups between them, and kisses Darren on the mouth, not even glancing at the people around them, most of them with their faces turned toward the blessing sky anyway.

Jay still hasn’t figured out how to walk next to Darren’s power wheelchair without feeling like he’s either walking too fast when there’s a crowd or other obstacles, or generally a narrow sidewalk Darren has to navigate, or too slow, as in all of the other times. But that has become increasingly less important since he discovered his favorite means of getting around: perched on Darren’s right armrest. His arm slings around the headrest or, when Darren isn’t taking advantage of the wheelchair’s full range of speed, his hand settles on Darren’s neck, feeling the thick cords of muscles contracting.

Khristina points out that the wheelchair may break down from Jay’s additional weight, at which point Darren snorts audibly, serving enough as a comment about Darren’s and Jay’s very different weight classes, where Jay’s weight doesn’t fall into account next to Darren’s. Jay teases Khristina throughout the evening, claiming she called him fat, accusing her of body-shaming, until her bowling ball ends up in the gutter three times in a row and Olha requests a team for herself or bowling bumpers for Khristina. Khristina fumes, calls for another beer, and sits next to Darren at the table, shooting daggers at both Jay and Olha, who can’t stop laughing.

Jay had been in a bit of turmoil when Khristina and Olha had invited them for bowling, a regular pastime of the dancing team between training periods because he figured Darren couldn’t participate. “I don’t think they have ramps?” Darren had mumbled as Jay mentioned it. Jay had shrugged, but Darren cut him short. “Don’t you worry, there’s no way I’d be bowling even if I could,” he had claimed and sort of waved a hand, and Jay wasn’t sure if he was deflecting or telling the truth.

Later, Jay googled bowling ramps. He wasn’t entirely sure after that, but it seemed like a good idea to have Darren on his team should Darren consider participating if there were ramps available at the place they played at.

When Jay barely managed to crawl out of bed the morning after they’d been bowling for the first time, muscles aching from the unaccustomed exercise, Darren had simply smirked at him and asked if he wanted to borrow the wheelchair for his trip to the toilet. “No pissing from within the chair,” he had added in a croaky morning voice before the bathroom door had closed between them.

It goes without saying that there had been no ramps at the bowling place.

Jay had thought it would bother him more that people thought him gay now, but he feels he doesn’t really care that much. In the end, he doesn’t really know what he is, either. Bit by bit, and body part by body part, he discovers what turns him on in Darren, but he isn’t entirely sure this isn’t exclusive to Darren. After all, he can’t deny that Darren has more than a few features that make him unbearably hot even when one excludes the wheelchair. Khristina whispers one evening into Olha’s ear, in a way so that it’s clear to everyone that Jay can hear them, how she dreams of Darren’s large hands around her, and his broad back twisting in the sheets. Jay can feel the heat rising on his cheeks and pretends he isn’t listening because these are indeed very exquisite details of Darren’s body that he admires at more times than none.

He does know one thing though, which is that he doesn’t usually have that reaction to guys with a similar build. Conventionally attractive women, yes. But men? Not that he’s aware of, he thinks.

The thing is though, except for Darren, Jay doesn’t know any other person with a disability such as Darren’s. And whenever he encounters someone who may have the same condition — how the hell should Jay know exactly? — they don’t seem to be his type. Or that’s what he assumes, based on the fact that he doesn’t feel anything that compares to the thrill he experiences when he opens the door to Darren. Darren — always not entirely straight in the wheelchair, his right arm writhing slowly in his lap, muscles in his neck straining to keep his head directed at Jay. Darren, who doesn’t even need to attempt to speak before Jay coaxes him inside and is on top of him before they’ve reached the living room.

When they sit outside that one winter evening, bathing in the sun, Darren points with his head to a youth leaning with his hip against a low wall, conversing with his friends, each with a can of beer in their hand. Jay notices the pair of crutches only then, and when they have finished their drinks not much later, he sees the guy thrust his empty can of beer into a waiting hand, pick up his crutches and shake his head a little, so as to clear his face from the golden locks falling into it. He isn’t walking just the way Darren is, while the few steps that Darren is able to take don’t seem to qualify as walking anyway, but his legs are stiff and bent in a very similar way with the knees almost touching, and his arms and shoulders bear witness of years of supporting his body, visible even under the padded jacket.

Darren’s eyebrows dance and Jay shrugs, mumbling something into his coffee. “Come again?” Darren asks and Jay sighs. “Yeah, he’s—”

It’s a peculiar sight, by all accounts.

Jay wonders what Darren’s gait looked like when he was younger when he could still walk using a walker, as Darren had explained to him once. He isn’t sure how long ago that was.

“You’re still looking,” Darren remarks matter-of-factly, and Jay jumps, directing his eyes back to Darren who carefully places his steaming cup back into the cup holder mounted on his armrest, grinning cunningly.

“Go to hell.”

But damn, Jay can’t deny there has been something. All evening he’s incredibly horny and when the time comes to say goodbye to Darren on the street in front of the building block where Jay lives, he begs Darren to come upstairs with him.

“Just for a few minutes,” Jay pleads, carding his fingers through Darren’s neatly cut hair.

Usually, Darren doesn’t stay this late, especially not now in winter, when the train runs even less reliably.

Still refusing to vacate Darren’s right armrest, Jay huddles closer to his boyfriend, searching for warmth in the cold. “It’ll be quick,” he promises, nosing at Darren's neck. “Please, pretty please?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jay can see that his actions and words have an effect on Darren. It's subtle, and months ago Jay wouldn’t have caught on to it. But now he registers the larger guy’s right knee lifting a fraction, his boot slipping off the footrest for a moment. Darren grimaces, and Jay smiles into Darren’s short hair, knowing he has won.

Instead of gracing him with an answer, Darren huffs and pushes against the joystick on the left armrest. They enter the building just as one of Jay’s neighbors leaves, holding the door open and staring at the couple in surprise as they zoom past. The moment they are inside the elevator, Jay can’t hold back anymore. He straddles Darren and kisses him in a way that suggests imminent suffocation. His hips rock against Darren’s, and both men moan hoarsely as their clothed erections rub together.

Then the elevator gives a rattle and stops halfway to Jay’s apartment. Jay leaps off Darren’s lap before the doors have started to open, almost falling flat on his face in his hurry, and scrambles to stand at Darren’s side at the last second. Breathlessly, Jay manages to greet the middle-aged woman who enters. She nods at them both, not really looking at them as she steps into the cubicle and turns her back to them. Behind her, Darren is laughing silently, his head slipping from the headrest with the uncontrollable shaking of his body.

”Shut up,” Jay mouths at his boyfriend, but can’t help grinning as well. Clearly, he overacted a little.

Jay’s neighbor balances a still steaming chocolate cake on a round tray in her hands, which gives off a mouth-watering smell, only conquered by her flowery perfume.

“Romantic evening?” Jay whispers to Darren, who chuckles quietly, looking at him with a strange smile.

The next moment Jay almost jumps out of his skin. Something grazes the front of his pants, making his already half-hard cock twitch and his heart beat in his throat. With reddening cheeks, he glances at the neighbor who’s still standing at the door, facing away from them, and then looks down at himself, suddenly afraid he’ll lose consciousness right away. For a second he can’t really make sense of what is happening. He’s at Darren’s right side. Darren’s bad side. And still...

Darren’s right arm has slipped halfway off the armrest, his hand in a fist, and it just so happens that it’s close to Jay’s crotch now, by pure chance as Jay is sure. Darren moves his hand slowly from his shoulder, causing his quivering knuckles to slide ever so slightly over Jay’s clothed cock, provoking a thousand sparks to ignite in Jay’s groin.

It’s pure torture.

Instead of stepping to the side and out of Darren’s limited reach, as all instinct tells him, Jay incrementally inches closer to Darren’s hand, his hips moving imperceptibly, in search of more friction. The temperature in the elevator seems to have risen a hundred degrees. Darren caresses Jay, in the minimal way he is able to achieve without attracting the neighbor’s attention, and Jay presses his lips together as a moan is trying to punch its way out. With watering eyes, he stares at the back of the neighbor’s head in front of him, fearing she’ll turn around, fearing he’ll combust just from the thought of Darren’s right hand on his cock.

The neighbor has her hair done up in a nice way, Jay notices in an effort to direct his thoughts somewhere else. He’s so aroused, he feels like his brain isn’t functioning right. He tries to focus on the smell of the chocolate cake, but all he can think of is the need to be touched, properly.

Jay’s breath comes much quicker than what is normal for an ordinary elevator ride, his face burns and his pants are painfully tight as Darren’s fist continues to brush against the front. There’s no way the neighbor won’t notice. Any moment now—

Darren gives a strangled sound, whether from the effort of controlling the movements of his right arm or caused by an involuntary spasm Jay can’t tell. But all the neighbor does is clear her throat, shuffle her feet, and continue staring at the closed elevator doors as they resume their ascent, the floor, ceiling, and walls of the cubicle slightly vibrating.

Suppressing a whimper, Jay wonders how much longer until they’ve reached his apartment. The glowing number over the doors jumps from left to right in agonizing slowness. He breathes out slowly in an effort to clear his head a little and, once more, inches closer to Darren, increasing the pressure on his cock, his hips gently bucking up against Darren’s fist. Jay knows Darren’s right arm isn’t very strong, so Jay doesn’t dare to move too close lest he push it away, and he refrains from moving his hips too much. Something tells him Darren won’t be able to put his hand back where it is now if it slips off Jay.

Jay’s gaze only quickly grazes Darren’s before he hurriedly directs it to the back of the neighbor’s head again. Darren’s eyes are ablaze, apparently unconcerned about the neighbor, watching Jay falling apart with an intensity that burns on Jay’s skin. Jay is sure Darren can feel him trembling despite the old elevator’s swaying and rumbling ride up, every little stroke the knuckles of Darren’s right hand accomplish sending electric shocks through Jay’s body.

Then, finally, the elevator stops again with a happy ping and the woman exits without looking back.

“Oh fuck, oh god, oh—” Jay stumbles against Darren as soon as the doors close again and the elevator starts moving. In the process, Darren’s right hand gets knocked away, and Jay regrets it immediately, but he can’t help it. His knees feel like jelly and he only stays upright because he clings to Darren’s armrest as if to a lifeline.

“Bastard,” Jay chokes out, squinting at Darren, his blood drumming in his ears.

Darren’s amused chuckle overlaps with the ding announcing they’ve reached the floor of Jay’s apartment.

Jay has no idea how he manages to get out of the elevator in front of Darren, locates his keys, inserts one into the keyhole of the correct door, and turns the key to open it. It’s mere seconds later that they are all over each other in the unlit hallway of Jay’s apartment, the door falling shut behind them with a loud bang neither of them notices while they wrestle out of their padded winter coats without ever stopping to kiss.

“Geez…” Jay leans his damp forehead against Darren’s heaving chest, taking a moment to catch his breath. He is straddling Darren in the wheelchair again. “That was…”

Darren gives a low growl. “Hot,” he finishes Jay’s sentence, grinning, and hungrily nudges Jay’s chin upward with his left fist.

Jay mumbles between sloppy kisses: “But what if—”

Darren’s wheelchair hums to life again as he steers them both to the living room.

“She could have—”

Darren manages to capture Jay’s lips with his, sealing them shut for a second, while driving at the same time.

Jay braces one hand behind Darren’s neck and leans back. “What if she had turned around and—”

“Shh…” Darren’s left hand cups Jay’s mouth, shutting him up and causing the wheelchair to stop abruptly. Jay yelps and almost slips off.

“Couch,” Darren demands in a voice that brooks no argument, and Jay jumps off Darren’s lap.

He stands with his arm ready, waiting in case Darren requires assistance. It’s something they never talked about; it just developed over time.

Jay doesn’t mind lending Darren his arm to make transfers easier. Sometimes Darren accepts his help, sometimes he ignores it.

Today, Darren moves his feet from the footrests one by one, then rocks forward until his ass almost slips off the seat.

His left arm flails a little because he isn’t really paying attention, and Jay catches Darren’s aimless hand, placing it firmly on his arm.

Darren’s eyes are fixed on the couch as he heaves himself out of the wheelchair, his fingers squeezing hard around Jay’s forearm. Jay moves under his weight, sensing Darren needs more than just balance this time. They both turn slightly, Darren doing a slow shuffle on stiff legs, then he lets himself fall onto the couch, impact softened slightly by Jay’s assistance.

“Ugh,” Darren grunts and scoots back slowly, his left hand pressed flat against the couch.

Jay sits down next to him, one leg folded under the other, patiently waiting for Darren to settle in and catch his breath. He watches Darren’s right arm. It has curled back on itself against his chest, the fist tucked in as well, and it seems impossible those white knuckles were caressing Jay just minutes ago in the elevator.

Jay shudders with arousal from the thought alone, and Darren’s gaze lifts.

“Right,” Darren says, arching his eyebrows. “Where were we?”

Jay blushes and inhales, ready to unleash more anxious chatter about what could have happened if the neighbor had caught them, but Darren shakes his head.

“If I hear any more of that nonsense I’ll be out of here before you can say blowjob,” he hisses, his speech surprisingly clear.

Jay freezes and blushes even deeper. “Um…”

Darren follows Jay’s eyes to his right fist, and the corner of his lips twitches. “Yeah, that. I knew you’d like that.”

Jay wants to curl in on himself, unsure why, but suddenly he can’t even look into Darren’s eyes anymore.

“Jay? Hey…”

Jay doesn’t know what to say. Somehow he’s afraid he’ll look up and see the disgust in Darren’s face. He knew his attraction was unusual, but so far Darren didn’t seem to be bothered. But this — Darren’s right arm — crosses a line. It’s not a silly attraction anymore. Not a weird preference. Darren’s right arm is almost useless. There’s nothing anyone could find attractive there — anyone within their right mind, that is.

“Jay!” Darren’s voice is sharp, and Jay’s head shoots up despite his will.

Darren’s face is twisted with some unknown effort. “For god’s sake, come here. You’re too far away.”

Hastily blinking away tears, Jay notices Darren’s outstretched good hand — well, as much as Darren’s arm will stretch on its own — quivering mere inches from his shoulder. He moves closer immediately and lets himself be embraced by Darren, lets himself be squished against the other’s massive side, although he doesn’t feel like he deserves to be consoled.

He’s a freak.

“What is it?” Darren asks eventually.

Jay doesn’t answer; he stays tucked into Darren’s side. He wants to stay buried there forever.

“You can touch it, you know,” Darren says quietly then, and Jay stiffens.

Surely he didn’t hear right.

“I mean it’s… it’s just my arm,” Darren goes on, still speaking in this matter-of-fact voice that Jay thinks can’t be real. “It’s not much of an arm, as far as functionality goes—”

Exactly Jay’s thinking.

“But I’m glad you seem to think it’s steamy.”

Jay’s face is so hot, he thinks he’ll burn through Darren’s shirt. “Darren!” he protests. “Ugh… It’s…” He pushes back, finally looking at Darren. The other’s lips are twisted into a broad smirk.

God, how can Darren be so damn calm about this?

“Darren,” Jay repeats, more firmly. “This isn’t normal!”

Darren chuckles. “So? I’m not normal, for all I know. Is it your fault that I’m this drop dead gorgeous that you can’t keep your fingers off me?”

Jay wants to laugh and cry, and he still doesn’t know what to say. How to say what he wants. What he has sort of dreamed of since the first time he saw Darren jerking off, to be precise.

“You can touch it,” Darren says, for the second time. “I’m just gonna say this. We’ll have to be quick about it because otherwise I’ll miss my train.”

Shit. Right.

Jay breathes and decides it’s all or nothing. Since he knows he won't be able to go to sleep if Darren goes home now, he sits up and turns to stare at Darren.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

Darren nods.

Holding his breath, Jay straddles Darren again and after a tiny hesitation lifts one hand and lets his fingers settle around Darren’s right upper arm. He already knows it’s a bit thinner than the other, the biceps much less exercised than Darren’s better left arm. The muscle Jay feels is hard, though, slightly twitching as Jay lets his fingers slide down to Darren's fist.

”I don’t want to hurt you,” Jay whispers, afraid to make a wrong move. Suddenly it seems like Darren’s right arm is the most delicate, breakable thing he’s ever held.

”You won’t,” Darren replies. “You can stretch the fingers. Slowly.” He’s watching Jay, not his arm, his face impenetrable, hard to read.

”Okay…” With utmost care, Jay slips his fingers under Darren’s, working slow circles into Darren’s palm. The fingers open easily, he realizes with surprise. Darren has much less strength on this side than he anticipated. When Jay moves too quickly, pulls at the fingers too eagerly, Darren flinches a little, but shakes his head immediately as Jay stares at him, aghast.

“Everything’s alright,” Darren murmurs. “Still attached,” he adds drily.

Jay breathes out shakily, hysterical laughter bubbling up from somewhere but he can stop the urge before it reaches the surface. He slowly works Darren’s fist to open almost completely, his heart pounding anxiously. He manages not to hurt Darren again, at least not that he knows of. Then he checks again with his boyfriend before hastily unzipping his own pants, shoving them down and carefully sliding his semi-hard cock between Darren’s right palm and the crooked fingers. Darren’s fingers slowly, weakly, close around Jay’s shaft, moving back into the position they usually inhabit.

Holy shit. Jay didn’t expect that to actually work.

“Darren…?” Jay stares down at his cock in Darren’s right hand and he’s so dizzy from sudden arousal he has to brace himself against Darren’s shoulder and the couch’s backrest.

“You can move,” Darren says, his eyes black holes directed on Jay’s face.

”Okay, okay,” Jay whimpers, sweat trickling down his brow, and he wipes his face with his sleeve before settling both hands around Jay’s right arm, steadying it. He has to put pressure on Darren’s fingers as well, so they don’t slip off, and he forgot the lube so he replaces it with spit without much fuss, but then his hardening cock glides through Darren’s fist and Jay moans with every thrust, pleasure exploding behind his closed eyelids.

”Oh god, oh god… Darren…” Jay chants, breathless. It feels so good, he fears this – all of this – may just disappear if he opens his eyes again.

Darren gives an encouraging grunt and Jay continues jerking himself off with Darren’s right hand, chasing a high he didn’t think was possible.

“‘M not gonna last long. Darren…”

”That’s alright,” Darren whispers, his voice hoarse as well. “Doing so well. Show me you like this.”

He sounds almost as far gone as Jay.

Jay thrusts deeper into Darren’s fist, the tip of his cock colliding softly with Darren’s right upper arm, and at a particularly violent thrust he comes with a relieved cry, his hips stuttering into their joined hands, come shooting over Darren’s shoulder.

“Oh fuck, oh…” Jay collapses onto Darren’s lap, feeling wrought out like a towel, his whole body tingling pleasurably, his cock still jerking weakly between his legs.

The knuckles of Darren’s left hand graze over Jay’s head, gently stroking his hair. “You’ve been so good,” Darren says in a low voice. “Done so well.”

Eventually, Jay stirs with a shiver, yawns, and peels himself off Darren. With pink cheeks, he helps Darren clean up, especially his soiled right hand, feeling a few loose sparks in his groin as he carefully towels off the stiff fingers.

“Thanks,” Jay finally says, blushing, as he stands by as Darren transfers back to his wheelchair. There’s no time for reciprocation, Darren can’t miss his train, but Jay knows it’ll be okay for the other.

“Don’t mention it,” Darren grunts and maneuvers his left arm into the sleeve of his jacket, assisted by Jay. The right takes longer, but Jay doesn’t dare to suggest help. Then Darren pushes against the joystick to turn the powerchair around. “Open the door for me?”

Dazed, Jay shakes his head to get rid of the drowsiness and hurries to open the main door for Darren. He waits with him until the elevator arrives and kisses Darren goodbye, nipping at the other’s lips until the wheelchair's back wheels bump against the back of the cubicle and the doors start sliding closed.

“See you,” Jay calls to Darren as he backs out quickly.

The doors have closed before Darren can say anything. As Jay listens to the rumbling of the descending elevator, he wishes with every fiber in his body Darren could stay. Forever.



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