Good boys can be good girls too

      There are days when Andrew wants to silence his thoughts for eternity. Wouldn’t life be easier then?        Like, for example, when his identity starts crumbling and it’s so hard to keep everything together. His face looks wrong, his body’s wrong – just everything’s awful and not enough. Not enough of a man, his mind whispers then.        Normally, Andrew’s quite confident in his identity. The haters can scream and cry, for all he cares. So what if he doesn’t have a dick? He can have a good time with Neil all the same.       But on the rare days when the feelings are quite opposite, it feels like a tremendous effort to get out of the dorm. People’s eyes seem to strip him naked then, judging his whole existence with just one look. Andrew hates the feeling, so he mostly stays in bed on such days, and Neil makes sure that nobody bothers him.       However, his today’s mood is not anything like this. Andrew was foolish enough to look for inspiration to do something with Neil. They’ve been exploring things together, and it’s had its ups and downs, but overall it’s been good. Like really good.  Neil – Andrew’s nothing and everything – has been so understanding so far. He lets Andrew take the lead, happy just from being close together. Disgusting.       The first time a ‘good boy’ left Neil’s mouth, Andrew was so ecstatic he nearly came just from that. Later, he didn’t comment on it, but Neil’s devious smile was the confirmation that he noticed. Andrew hated him.       But now he craves something way different – something that stirs a deep shame within him. One video with a man being called ‘good girl’ and Andrew’s world flipped. That was a few days ago, but his mind’s still fixated on it.        Because the idea should disgust him, right? He should resent it with his whole being. After all, he’s fought so long for being perceived as a man, so why would he want to ruin it now?       Is he wrong for wanting it? Is his whole identity just a lie? Andrew’s thoughts spiral, the tightness in his chest becoming unbearable. The coffee he’s made for himself stands forgotten at the table, long since gone cold.        He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. It’s been like that for the past few days, and he knows that Neil noticed, but hasn’t said anything yet, bless him. Every time Andrew wanted to breach the topic, his words got stuck in his throat, adding to his frustration. What’s wrong with him? He’s the strong one, dammit, so why does talking with Neil scare him so much?       Because you can lose him, his traitorous mind supplies. But you can’t lose something you don’t have, can you? But is he really ‘nothing’?       What if Neil deems him too weird? The potential answer scares Andrew way too much that it should, and he hates himself for it even more.        “Hey?” Andrew nearly jumps at Neil’s voice. The sofa dips beside him, and Neil faces him, a soft look on his face. “You’ve been glaring at the table.” The question hangs in the air, but suddenly Andrew’s throat is too dry to speak.        Neil waits him out patiently, not pushing, and Andrew despises him for it. At the same time, he really wants to kiss him. Like really bad.        “Have I done something?” The question brings Andrew’s thoughts to a sudden halt. What is Neil talking about? Ridiculous. Andrew flicks Neil’s forehead, earning himself an indignant ‘Hey!’       “You’re an idiot,” he says.       “Then talk to me.” Neil looks at him with his blue eyes, and Andrew feels his resolve slipping. What did Betsy say? ‘You should let people in, Andrew.’ But it’s dangerous, as his life’s shown him time and time again.        But this is Neil, and Neil’s safe. But what if you’re wrong about him?       Andrew silences the thought, not letting it spiral any further. Before he can stop himself, he opens his mouth and starts talking. His eyes avoid Neil’s and focus on the mug of the cold coffee. It only takes a minute – Andrew’s never been a talker – but it certainly feels like an eternity. And throughout it all, Neil listens with rapt attention, not once interrupting him. Andrew isn’t sure what to make of it.        When he’s done, it feels like a weight’s been lifted from his shoulders, but it’s soon replaced by dread. Now everything’s in the open, no turning back.       Neil’s gaze prickles Andrew’s skin, and he wants to run away from it. He feels too raw, the need to escape quite strong, so he gets up quickly.       But there’s a hand gripping his T-shirt that lets go as fast as it takes hold.        “Stay,” says Neil. It’s only one word, but it holds so much power over Andrew. Too raw, too raw, he’s gonna hurt me, his thoughts spiral. This time though, he follows a different voice. Neil’s safe, it says with conviction that surprises him.       Andrew sits down and takes a deep breath, trying to slow down his racing heart.        When he finally looks at Neil’s face, there’s a small smile there. He wants to wipe it off.        “It’s okay.” The words don’t quite register in Andrew’s mind because he can’t really believe what he’s just heard. Neil probably sees the doubt in his eyes before he adds, “You’re okay.”       And that shouldn’t feel this amazing – him and Neil are nothing, after all – so why the sudden overwhelming relief?        Then Neil starts asking questions – ‘Is it sexual only?’, ‘Do you want to try soon?’, etc. – and the normalcy of just talking brings Andrew comfort, feeling like a warm blanket in the cold evening. Because Neil – the absolute menace, the clueless idiot, the boy whom Andrew hated from the start – just gets it, and isn’t being weird about it.       Andrew can’t take it any longer.        “Yes or no?” he asks quickly, and as soon as there’s surprised ‘Yes’ Andrew’s mouth crashes into Neil’s. The urge to devour him grows stronger with every kiss and nip as if there’s an insatiable beast inside Andrew. Or maybe Andrew’s the beast.        “Blowjob – yes or no?” asks Andrew in-between kisses, utterly breathless.        “Yes, yes, yes–” Neil’s words are cut off by his moan when Andrew grips his hard cock, and Andrew swallows the noise with another kiss. His hand starts moving, eliciting such delightful noises from Neil. The boy’s disheveled – his hair in utter mess from their impromptu makeout session, his lips swollen, and his eyes closed in bliss. Andrew wants to ruin him.        His throat spasm when he takes Neil’s whole length, but he doesn’t let up. Instead, he breathes through his nose and tries to wrench his gag reflex under control. The body underneath him trembles, overwhelmed with the sensations.        “Andrew.” Neil’s voice is hoarse. “Can I touch you?”       How could Andrew deny him? He goes up for a moment to say, “Only my hair. Don’t pull on them.” Then, he swallows Neil’s length again, making him keen. The hands grab his head, seeking some sort of stability, but don’t force his movements.        “Yes,” Neil moans. “Good girl.”       The two words make Andrew gush, the wetness spreading in his boxers. Goddamn, but he didn’t think it’d be this amazing. Maybe he moans, maybe he doesn’t – his mind’s gone hazy.       He speeds up his movements, bringing Neil to completion. Neil spasm through his orgasm, mouth parted in pleasure. Andrew swallows the release, but more as an afterthought – his mind has yet to come back online.        They both lie there for a while, Andrew with his head in Neil’s lap, Neil’s hand petting through his blond hair. Something curls inside Andrew’s chest – a feeling he can’t quite decipher. Is it what love feels like?