It was the sort of pain where she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull away or press closer.
Well, she knew which she’d rather do.
Pietro smoothed his palms down his thighs, trying to stop the way his leg bounced nervously. Darcy wanted to reach over. Reach out. Take his hand. Something.
But there was the teeny-tiny voice in her mind that told her she might be misreading this.
The lingering glances. The awkward pauses. That thing his Adam’s apple did whenever he gulped. Which he did often when she was around.
The way he kept dropping things. Dude was a clumsy klutz and a half.
A clumsy klutz who wasn’t going to address this tension. So maybe she needed to own up.
She took a deep breath, which did nothing to calm her nerves, because it filled her nose with the smell of whatever he was using to wash that rockin’ bod of his. Some kind of manly man soap that came in black and silver packaging so you knew it was #for men. Whatever it was, it smelled good on Pietro and she wanted to bury her face in his neck.
Maybe if she did that, it would get the point across?
He cleared his throat, drawing her out of her thoughts.
“Piet?” she said, her voice cutting the silence like a hot spoon in ice cream. Basically sliding in and melting the edges.
“I might be completely off base here, but given the significant amount of…” she paused. “Tension happening…would you like to make out a little and see if that helps?”
He exhaled roughly, his breath coming out seemingly all at once. “Yes. I would.”
“Awesome…” she turned slightly, catching his gaze for the first time since he’d come over to watch tv. They’d both been purposefully avoiding doing exactly this.
She started to lean forward, her bottom lip trembling as she moved into his personal space. Where she could feel his body heat radiating into the room. She could hear him breathing, hear her own heart beating as she moved closer and closer.
His hand came to rest on her waist, his thumb brushing over the softness of her belly as she closed her eyes, brushing her lips gently over his.
Pietro’s hand tightened on her waist, pulling her closer and she went.
Not so much like an undertow as like a current. One she’d been fighting and fighting and fighting before suddenly stopping. Floating in the warm sun and watching the sky as she went down river.
His kisses were firm, and his other hand cupped the back of her head as she moved over into his lap. Every single movement, every single second felt more natural than anything they’d done for the entire evening.
She grasped at his shirt, her palms sliding up over his chest. He felt almost feverishly warm.
He broke off the kiss to stare up into her eyes. He raised his eyebrows quizzically. “Is this…alright?” She nodded and he sighed with relief, kissing her again. “I am glad, because I do not want to…ruin what we have?”
“I don’t think this is ruining it, I think it’s making it better…” she murmured, leaning closer to him, pressing herself flush against his body. The way she’d always wanted to.
“I agree…I’ve wanted to do this for so long, Darcy…” His hands slid up her back and back down to her waist. “You have no idea…”
it is and it’s heartbreaking that we
notice it and quite honestly it’s
disgusting that society has taken it
from us and i
don’t know what the fuck to do
because nobody else i know calls it
pure fun because they aren’t used to
half fun half fear like we
i hate that you and i and the rest of
pure fun because
ninety-nine percent of my fun is not
pure; not reckless, careless, or casual
my fun and your fun and the rest of
our fun is look-over-your-shoulder
it’s hard being the visibly gay kids
two butches a too femme les and a
when the only kid in the group
wearing mascara is the one with an
adam’s apple that’s when you know
you’re fucked in this
neck of the woods
nice pure fun is what we’ve had in a
store looking through the clearance
picking out hats and pens
and smelling every candle and not
caring if the old lady thinks we’re
faggots because this old lady is
giggling and smiling at the three gay
teenagers smelling candles and
have you smelled the passion fruit
i think she felt sorry for us
maybe she was worried about us
maybe she was just thought we were
funny and cute
this old lady didn’t call security on
the four queers in the clearance aisle
pure fun is singing along to gay songs
in the dark of night on the highway
when nobody can hear but us because
yeah we’re singing but the
windows are up and we aren’t belting
so nobody but us can hear
the four gays singing
that we were just born this way
and that girls can like girls
and boys can wear makeup because
hot damn if we rolled down our
windows we’d be dead before we got
home but we kept them up and
we got home and that’s pure fun is
fun when you can be dead certain
nobody can hear you. cars are private
cars are safe and in a car you can
have pure fun
but you know what’s not pure fun
going home and standing on the
porch with your key as you quietly
take off your pins
and throw on the mascara you wiped
off in the car three hours ago
turn your hat around and
unbutton the top three buttons of your
shirt and scrub the lipstick
off of your cheek
so your mom doesn’t know that you’re
one of the faggots she hears about on
the news because as the youth say
you’d be fucked
but you know the three gays in the
car are waiting for you to get in the
house so nobody snatches you off the
step and they can feel your pain and
your inhales and you know they feel
it too and you’re not alone you’re just
alone right now and scared as fuck
pure fun isn’t what we’re used to
i’m not used to not looking over my
shoulder and to be honest
i still did and always will do
what mattered was that the old lady
smiled and laughed and didn’t frown
we joke about the one true ally but
that woman’s laugh might have
we’ll never know but
it was nice having her there for our
pure fun and
damn i praise g-d that car windows
were made to quiet the road because
if the men in the truck to our left had
known what words were in our
mouths the fun would’ve been less
pure so i’d like to thank the countless
griping rich americans from long ago
for getting us home because you
might have saved our lives and
it was nice having every one of them
in on our pure fun
so shout out to those of you having
pure fun and thinking it’s nice
because that nice feeling is
actually what the hets call neutral
and what we’re calling pure fun is
what the hets call boring and they
never notice when they feel almost
safe so fuck them and go you
Wearing nothing but snakeskin boots, I blazed a footpath, the first radical road out of that old kingdom toward a new unknown. When I came to those great flaming gates of burning gold, I stood alone in terror at the threshold between Paradise and Earth. There I heard a mysterious echo: my own voice singing to me from across the forbidden side. I shook awake— at once alive in a blaze of green fire.