Kazza’s Reviews > These Violent Delights > Status Update

“You know I love you, and I know you love me, and I promise we can have all kinds of sex later, but right now I desperately need an expert on Romeo and Juliet.”
“Um…okay. That sounds like me.”
“It is. You have a doctorate in Elizabethan dramatists and you are exactly what I need right now.”
“Said no one, ever. That’s why we have no arts funding.”

Oh, Tom. We're past the 'he's straight' bit - he's bi, honey.

"Well, shit," I say.
Milos stiffens beneath me. "What? Is that a problem?"
“I’ll say. I’m in love with you, too.”
There. It’s out. It’s done. He lies back and gazes up at me, glowing in his triumph.
“Then how is that a problem?” he says.
“Because. Student/teacher romance. Almost never ends well.”
“Meh. Tell that to my prostate. Now that was a happy ending.”

“Don’t be shy, baby. Show me your ass.” A stranger’s voice, but it puts me back in the game. I lift my thigh and reach for the lube. Strictly business. Just my average Friday night – sticking things up my ass for money.

I sniff and watch the dancers going through their stretches. We’re all so thin, human piano wires set to vibrate at whatever pitch required to best convey emotion. To be sensitive in this world is not a disadvantage; it’s a gift, even if it feels like a curse right now.

Normally I'm kind of disbelieving at the amount of gay guys in a family, street, town, city in my books, but this time it's at how many straight guys are in one ballet production.

Not stereotyping. Just sayin'.

“I did something,” I say, trying and failing to make a mental list of things that have gone wrong lately. They all pale into nothing compared with the big thing that’s currently broken in my life. “Something really, really, really fucking stupid.”
“What? Crack? Meth? Murder?” says Ed, and nudges my knee with his, trying to draw me out. “Shit, you didn’t buy a timeshare, did you?”

“Please,” I moan. “Please. Please. I’m so fucking hard.”
He slides his fingers deeper, fucking me very slowly with them. “Oh, I know you are,” he says. “Because you’re twenty. You’re a walking erection and you could be anybody’s.”
Deeper. Oh fuck.
“But in here?” he says. “In here you’re all mine.”

“Is it bad? Maybe next time we should do that in a bed.”
“You were the one who wanted to do it on the floor.”
“I know. I’m kind of rethinking that.”
“I’m not surprised,” says Tom. “Your left buttock looks like hamburger. It’s like next level rug burn.”

“Ugh.” I roll over and swing a leg over him. “Are you seriously going to start acting like my teacher while your pants are round your ankles? Because I gotta tell you – it’s not doing it for me.”