Transparency and Rebellion

All Rights Reserved ©

the fruitful

There's something very familiar about the inside of this duplex. The white window blinds, fan on full blast, and posters of some Euro-pop bands I didn't recognize mounted about the walls like some emotional teenager's room.

Of course, I saw the obvious similarities between our rooms--he also had a bottle of Aveeno by his bed with a box of tissues, but it was more than that. The smell of fresh linen and burning incense; he wasn't dirty, the floor was practically spotless, his room was just very bare and dormroom-esque. The green and blue tapestry hanging over his bed frame smelled strongly of the incense burning on his nightstand. I wondered if I would smell like that when I got home and threw my clothes in the laundry. When my head was pushed up against the wall, the lavender scent was all I could smell.

He told me his roommate was out for the night. I suspected that meant he would be back by morning, but Dav wasn't too eager to kick me out before falling asleep.

I remember only vaguely the texts we exchanged that afternoon, but I had met him in person a couple times before, and the way he spoke was very reminiscent to the way he texted--in the sense that his speech was a bit battered, and our communication was more relative to pidgin than anything persistent and easily comprehensible.

He worked with my dad for less than a month when I was a freshman in college, then he showed up to a family event in the summer. He was tall and conventionally attractive. My grandma took an immediate liking to him—his accent, the tall brown Timberlands he wore, and his enthusiasm for education.

He was interested in political science. I talked with him a bit about my classes because he had never been to an American school.

Later that night we were sitting on plastic chairs in the damp grass out in front of my grandparent's house with the picnic tables where we had the get-together, and he asked if I had to drive a long ways to get to school every weekend, which led to me asking if he wanted to come down a few miles to Portland to check out my school. He was eager to visit, and we weren't talking about anything too interesting or exciting enough to elicit any sort of hesitation from me; the school was more than a few miles away, I really just wanted to get gas with my dad's money before driving back the next day.

He seemed to refrain from talking about his own school life, though he seemed like an over-achiever in the way he dressed and talked—vaguely—about his home life and daily routine, which seemed to be a recurring theme in his household. I'd never experienced household goals or routines set for day-to-day family life.

He was also very heavy on Jäger that night, I remember how giddy and careless he seemed in his actions—consistently grabbing my arm and asking me roundabout questions after most of the family had left or gone to bed; about my life, sex and the girls in the state, specifically my luck with girls. I was reciprocating, though he kept asking heinous questions the more he drank.

I didn't bother cutting him off because he seemed to be enjoying himself, and there wasn't really any use.

My cousin, a little older than me, kept throwing me glances throughout the day, in some sort of twisted assumption that we might end up together. I probably looked totally oblivious to this handsome, charming man grabbing my bicep and pulling me into his side whenever he thought something was funny.

The drive down to this gas station less than a mile away, he put his feet up on the dash and asked if I minded. I did, though it didn't matter much to me. I think we talked about sports. He had some misconception that every American in high school played some sort of competitive sport. I talked to him a bit about running track, and he told me he was a trail runner back home. We got to the gas station in the midst of our conversation, and before the attendant came up to fill my tank, Dav leaned in really close to my ear and whispered something. I almost wanted to move away, I was so taken aback.

"You have feelings towards men," my face got really red and I turned to face him. His face was pink, though he wasn't blushing. He hadn't shaved that morning.

I laughed a little, and he shook his head and smirked.

"I do too."

The gas station employee came up to our car, and I saw him walking up to us while Dav was telling me all this. Dav ran a hand down my arm, then stopped, resting his hand on the back of mine.

"Fill it regular." I gave the guy my card and through the darkness he didn't even seem to realize I was being touched by this beautiful stranger.

I could hear Dav breathing next to me. He pushed his face into my shoulder, and I let him rest there until I had to drive again.

He was quiet when we got to my school. He didn't seem embarrassed, moreso a little sick. I asked if he wanted to use the bathroom and he shook his head and rolled down the window. I figured there wasn't really any use in going inside at this point; he seemed too wasted to get on his feet and walk around like a normal human being.

"You wanna look around?" He nodded gently and pushed open the passenger side door.

"You sure?" He got out of the car and stretched his back. I shut my door and walked around to his side so I could put my arm around his shoulder. He wasn't surprised at my sudden advances towards him, he just sort of leaned on me.

"You sure you don't wanna use the bathroom?" He sighed and belched and I turned my head the other way but still kept my arm wrapped over his right shoulder.

He started walking before me, I followed him down the courtyard, farther and farther away from the school I brought him here to see. The grass was wet and the air was pleasantly warm.

"Do you notice anything so drastically different about the US to Norway?"

He sort of sighed and hummed softly for a minute.

"You don't like my forwardness" I shook my head and laughed it off again.

"Is everyone as forward as you are back home?"

He shook his head and started to move to sit down in the grass. I didn't want to--the ground was wet and the dark was intimidating, even in an environment as familiar as my school.

"Come on," I heard his hand pat the ground pretty hard, but I only bent down on my knees next to him.

"Your architecture is a lot less," he seemed to stumble on his words, though I understood what he meant.

"I guess, I can appreciate boring farm-house architecture, though."

He leaned on my shoulder and I saw it as simply him being drunk.

"How long have your grandparents lived in their boring farm house?"

"Decades"

He paused and stared out into the distance for a long time. I almost wanted to caress his head and play with his hair, though my conscience got the better of me.

"Do you ever just think about running away?" I suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline and thought back to all those teenager movies about leaving family behind to live in a big city.

"Occasionally, why?"

"I just think there's something really appealing about leaving your--my life behind."

I shook my head and shifted a bit, so he lifted his head. He didn't look at me in any sort of discomfort, though.

"I think American culture has been far too romanticized for you,"

He smiled and scooted forward on the grass to lay his head in my lap.

"You mind?" I shook my head. I didn't. I actually appreciated the contact.

He talked a bit more about his unknowing of American life and staying out of contact and any sort of connection from his family.

"I think it would be better to live in a little cottage, one of the boring ones, you know. That you see on old television. I'd love to travel out there and then never have to travel again."

I saw the immediate appeal of living in a small wooden hut up on a mountain somewhere. Free of human contact and technology, though there's something about leaving my family to live a rural life that I don't think I'll ever feel too strongly about.

He picked at the grass beneath his torso and talked about his sister living in rural Norway. She's a carpenter who works out of her home and owns horses, and the way he was describing the atmosphere and people really made his life seem fairytale.

He pushed himself up off the ground and reached down for my hand to pull me up with him.

On the road back, he didn't fall asleep. He stared out the window and I listened to Plantasia softly playing through my phone's bluetooth.

He giggled when we were almost home and leaned his damp shirt on the back of the passenger seat.

"I've seen so many movies with this exact scene." I turned to him and turned back to the road several times.

"Heart-to-hearts. That's what you call them." I smiled and shook my head.

"Would you call that a heart-to-heart?"

"I don't know. Is this coming of age?"

I pulled into the gated-off gravel driveway and got out to walk behind the car and shut the gate.

Dav didn't seem sad; he actually seemed enthusiastic and optimistic, if anything. I hardly resonated, though, despite my attempts. I felt too nihilistic about my future to really succumb to his great ideals of living out in the countryside of another country, away from his old beliefs and family.

Months afterwards, I saw him at a work-oriented barbecue my dad made me come to. He was with one of his close friends, I presume, because he was sticking very close to him. He came up and said hello to my father, and amid conversation said hello to me, though that was all. I didn't see anything extraordinary in his demeanor. Perhaps it was the lack of alcohol. After that encounter, I really figured the night those several months ago really meant nothing, and was really just him looking for a shoulder for relief purposes. And, although I found him to be charming and novel in the way he spoke, it was obvious to me that after that night, his speech to me out on my college campus was purely hyperbole. His name and face left my mind after a couple weeks.

April of this year I was notified by my father that he was being released from his position. I didn't take it too seriously, assuming he was simply moving on from this corporation, maybe even leaving the state. Late into April, though, I got a call from him. I knew he had my number. We'd talked vaguely over Instagram and I gave it to him then, in case of any emergencies. That was my own fault.

He didn't say much. I asked him about his departure and he didn't seem too worried about it. I figured.

He asked me nonchalantly if I wanted to have lunch with him, though being passed lunch time, I swallowed my pride and restated the question.

"Dinner?" He snorted over the phone and I immediately regretted my decision.

"Doesn't that sound too forward?"

"Is it too forward?"

"Not at all."

We agreed for a later hour and I took a shower.

His accent and dialect was still astonishingly prevalent, though it's not like I expected it to magically disappear after a mere several months living in this country.

I imagined what he was going to do with his life. We'd only talked for a day so long ago, though he seemed so interested and carefree, I was almost worried his naivety would--dare it be abused, turn into cynicism.

I kept the air conditioner on in fear that I may start to sweat and ruin an introduction. In texts, as I remember them, he was cheerful and willing, wanting, to speak with me. Though, on my drive to his place, I couldn't hold back this overwhelming feeling of regret; for even getting up in the afternoon to answer my phone when he called.

There was a sweet smell in the air when I stepped out of my car, and off the street. I parallel parked at a poor angle, though it didn't interest me to do a better job. I didn't see any other cars in the area.

He was standing in front of his house, arms crossed and shivering slightly.

He gave me an elated hello and I smiled and reciprocated to his open arms by hugging him gently.

Truthfully I am terrible at smalltalk, so my endeavors were more equated with long sentences about life and current status from him.

We stayed outside for a few minutes and I was getting really cold. He touched my arm and asked if I wanted some tea or anything.

His "apartment" was more like a house than a small couple of rooms, and came with central heating.

He locked the door behind us and stared at me for a few seconds.

"You're still running," I nodded and he smiled softly.

"You still look really good." I knew he meant it as a simple compliment.

"I'll get you some tea?"

He turned around to walk into the kitchen; this small, not frivolous but more contemporary stucco-painted room that separated the living area from the hallway.

It was very modern, and not at all like anything he described so long ago. I sat on the couch and crossed my legs. The smell from outside was heavier inside, I realized just after stepping foot into the building.

"Hello," I turned my head to see what he was going on about and a cat walked into the room and smiled at me.

"I didn't know you had pets,"

"Yeah, there's a lot of things you don't know," he chuckled and I smiled, unsure if he knew the implications that came with that phrase.

The cat made a soft sound, and being reflexive I made one back.

He walked into the room with a mug and apologized for being out of cups.

He was silent for a few minutes, I took a few sips of the tea, which was sweet enough but too hot to drink.

The cat sat on the ground and stared at the wall, contemplating, but left when I started staring at it.

"You didn't bring a jacket," Dav turned to me. I realized neither of us had said anything, and yet it was more of a comfortable silence.

"Didn't think I'd need one."

He nodded and gently pushed my tea further away on the table.

"To be honest," he sighed softly and my mind began racing.

I thought about everything we'd talked about before, I thought about how comfortable he got with people when he drank, and although I didn't smell alcohol in his words, it wouldn't be amidst the other preposterous thoughts roaming around my head right then.

"I didn't make dinner, or anything really,"

I nodded and ran my hands down the denim covering my legs.

"Should I have just stuck to a phone call?" I suppressed nervous laughter and shook my head.

"What is it?"

He leaned back and stared at me.

"I'm leaving for a couple months to be with family. My sister is getting her visa and moving here with me."

I nodded. I didn't see anything special in his words, the way he said it, anything.

"That's great," I was genuine. He loved his sister. I'm happy for the both of them.

"I'm scared out of my mind,"

"Is their perception of you going to change with a single visit?"

He smiled and shook his head.

"I think their perception of their 'perfect son' is long gone and has been for a while."

"That seems like a good thing," he turned his head to look at me, we were both hunched over the coffee table.

"You're going to be free now,"

He smiled and nodded slowly.

"I wish they saw me as they do now my whole life," I could understand where he was coming from entirely in this regard. My actions constantly affect my family in ways I don't necessarily want. As a child, if I was the person I am now; flawed and scarred, my family wouldn't think any differently of me. After having come out, my grandparents and cousins—though luckily not my father—have a different perception of me.

"Don't you think it's better that they learn who you are?"

He didn't say anything.

"You are a great example of a son."

He sighed and leaned back.

"Thank you,"

I smiled, and we looked at each other for a while before he moved his hand softly down to my thigh like he did in the car so long ago. I looked down at his hand, then at him. It was as if he was following with his eyes every jittery movement my own eyes made. He moved his hand down to my kneecap, then back up my thigh and up under my shirt. He smirked and I looked back at his face. He was staring at my jeans, and then began to push the coffee table out of his way to get on his knees in front of me. Instinctively, my right knee began bouncing. He softly smoothed my pant leg out, and lightly grabbed onto my ankle, looking up at me sweetly.

"You alright?" I smiled, my face slightly red I imagine.

I pushed the coffee table even further away, and he moved his hands up and down both of my thighs, gently spreading them apart.

"Do you want this?" I was nervous as hell, though I figured he would plan something like this.

"Yes," he chuckled, and slowly started unzipping my fly.

"Do you want this?"

"Very much so,"

He smiled and moved his attention back to my pants.

After unzipping my fly, he pulled off my jeans. I wasn't at full potential, but he stretched out my dick through my briefs and kissed along the bottom of my dick, up and down my shaft, then started moving his lips hastily around my dick, letting his tongue move exponentially up and down my head, getting in wet in short, quick licking movements.

I let out a soft whine followed by a shaky breath when he kissed up my torso, pulling my shirt off over my head as he went.

"You're not new to this," I spoke softly into the side of his face as he pulled the shirt over my head. He smiled and kissed the side of my mouth, his hand still gently holding the underside of my dick through my underwear.

I kissed his mouth after a second, unaware if he'd want me to do that. He kissed back, then slowly trailed kisses all around my face, then down my jawline to my neck, down my collarbone and finally down to my stomach, where he'd successfully filled my briefs with precum. He pulled them off slowly, letting my dick chase after the waistband of my underwear as he pulled them off. I took the chance to pull his own shirt off. He was wearing deodorant, though I could smell his masculinity through his mesh shorts.

He was thin and practically hairless except for a light blond path down the bottom of his stomach. I ran my hand through his hair, a darker shade of blond, very soft and malleable enough for me to run my fingers through it, moving it out of the way of his face so I could see those pretty brown eyes.

The first time he took me in his mouth I bit my tongue expecting him to start lightly on the head, though he took the entire thing in his mouth. I breathed out heavily and watched him swallow a few times before coming back up and letting out a couple light coughs. I ran my hand over the side of his face and he smiled that same sweet smile back up at me.

He started slower this time, just kissing around the head, then licking up and down my bare cock, getting it wet before pushing it again, to the back of his throat. I gently pushed him further down on my cock and he didn't fight it. I didn't figure he would. He pulled off again, before pushing himself down again and again, until I had to pull him off and kiss around his face.

"My turn?" I smiled and pulled off my pants, throwing them over a couch across the room.

He pulled off his shorts, then down these tight, blue briefs. I kissed around the inside of his thighs, then licked up his balls to the tip of his dick. He didn't seem very reactive, but I deepthroated him and he let out a sheltered moan of relief. I kissed around the bottom of his cock, getting his balls wet with my own spit from taking him all the way to the back of my throat and coughing.

He was average size, though really girthy, and I could see the blue veins popping out the sides of him.

He let me go on for a while, somehow establishing that he would be the top here.

I bobbed my head on his cock until I had tears streaming down my cheeks. He pulled me off and I smiled up at him, spit and precum dripping down my lips and jaw. He kissed me and pulled me up. Standing by him, our height difference was very obvious.

He kicked his shorts off into the middle of the rug on the floor, then led me down the hall to his bedroom. It smelled really strongly of incense, though it was a pleasant and warm scent.

"I was wondering what the hell that was," he smiled and grabbed my dick, startling me a bit.

"It's my roommates'" he told me before I left that his roommate was out for the weekend.

He pushed me down on his soft bed sheets pretty harshly, then got back on his knees, pushing my thighs back and kissing around my hole. I shaved infrequently, though he seemed to enjoy my slight-hairiness. He kissed all around my hole, then started up towards my balls, around my inner thighs, then kissing my shaft and licking up to my dick.

He laughed with one of my balls half in his mouth, and I threw my head up to see him staring at me, this ear-to-ear grin on his face.

"You have goosebumps," I laughed and threw my head back.

He started deepthroating me again, then went back to kissing around my hole before actually pulling open the drawer to his nightstand and rummaging his hand around for a few seconds, grabbing a transparent, unlabeled bottle and squirting some into his hand.

He smiled over my cock at me, and I smiled back; letting him know I was ready.

He was very gentle, and softly rubbed my cock as he placed his index finger on my hole, slowly pushing inside. I was really tight, but loosened up when he started kissing around my thigh again.

He pushed his finger around inside me a few more times, then stood up and grasped his cock with his lubed-up hand, my left ankle with the other hand, and gently pushed himself against my hole.

"Is this alright?" He was very cute, with his light pink complexion, and nicely-toned stomach. I ran my hand across his torso and we kept eye contact as he pushed himself inside me, slowly.

"That's very alright," he smiled and I pulled my ass apart.

He pushed himself all the way in, and it wasn't that painful. I was surprised. He kissed my shin, my toes pointed outward slowly curled up as he moved around inside me.

His cock found my prostate pretty quickly, and I could make myself comfortable from there.

He pulled all the way out, then pushed all the way in, making me squirm and groan. He smiled and leaned over, wrapping his arm around the back of my neck so he could move me and get onto the bed, himself.

I kissed his cheek as he kept fucking me from this god-sent angle.

"You're hitting my spot exactly," he kept going, and pretty hard, too.

It wasn't long until I heard his breathing speed up and saw the sweat dripping down his chest.

I ran my hand down his torso and let him fuck me, grabbing onto my cock as he did.

"I'm gonna cum," he spoke really suddenly.

"Just like, ten seconds," he smiled and kept fucking, though I knew he was going to cum inside me. I was fine with it. I was better than fine with it.

I came while he fucked me, and I stroked my cock. He pulled out and finished a half-load onto my stomach. I touched his cock, but he was so sensitive he pulled away, then laughed and wiped his hair out of his face. He leaned down and kissed me, pulled me up so I was sitting, and gestured to the bathroom in his room. He went down the hall to use the bathroom in his roommate's room.

The room now smelled vividly like cum and lavender incense, which wasn't too strong anymore. I looked over and realized he had put it out.

I still see Dav, infrequently, though it's not a rare occurrence. He posts pictures on Instagram occasionally, and I'll see these little snippets of his life and be relieved that he's no longer cooped up and uncomfortable with his family and personality.

Sometimes I hear about him through my dad, who knows him pretty well. He says "the kid is doing just fine with the other firm," and I believe him.

Continue Reading

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.