CHAPTER 1

Please stop.

PLEASE.

I thrashed, screamed, slapped and cried.

PLEASE. This is wrong. Let me go. Please.

Don’t do this. Let me go, you bastard.

I heard his pants on my ears, felt his tongue licking its way up my neck, his hands groping, palming, squeezing my thighs and ass.

He won’t stop. I know. He won’t stop until he was satisfied. Until he got his fill he would bite, suck, nibble and thrust.

The more I fought, the more animalistic he became. But fight I did. I couldn’t stand this. I felt him in inside me. Moving, seeking warmth, pleasure and something else I couldn’t put words on. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t stop until I let myself go. I hated myself for that. HATED. HATED for becoming weak. That sickening feeling was rising on my lower part. I fought that too. I shouldn’t feel this.

Beautiful, you feel so good. Yes, baby.

He was moaning.

And I fell apart. Right on his arms.

I felt myself flying. That high you get from being satisfied.

I was satisfied and I hated myself for that.

***

When you grow up, you have this idea of your own life. This is how your life would be when you grow up. This is how you would behave. Your morals, your right and wrong, how you would never be that person no matter the circumstance, always looped into your brain.

I had too.

I was your privileged, predictable guy.

I had a good childhood. I was born to rich parents who were old money and new money combined. They love each other and me.

When my dad died when I was in sixth grade, he had left everything to my mom. His inheritance from his own family, all his bank accounts, the house, everything. He had a heavy life insurance, with my mom being the sole benefactor. My old man even had my college trust fund set up. He left us emotionally drained but not financially.

My mom despite being crushed, pulled herself up, focused her everything on me. My mom was deeply faithful to my dad even after. Never thought or brought another man in her life. I was everything to her. And I soaked up her attention like the only child I was. I liked her that way. But I would have supported if she fell in love again. She was beautiful, kind and deserved the best the world could offer.

I was brilliant in studies. I never got anything less than a B+ even in college. My mom was proud of me. I was proud of her.

I came out to my mom as gay in ninth grade, my mom was happy that I figured myself out without so much struggle.

Got accepted to MIT, long before my classmates graduated from high school. Again something my teachers had predicted. I, after all, was a genius in the making.

So everything in my life was predictable.

Until him. He turned my life upside down.

He turned ME upside down.

He shook me in every literal, figurative and metaphorical way.

Since then my life never felt the same.

I first met him during one of my summer breaks from college. I was the youngest among my MIT classmates. So, every time I got a chance to spend time with my mom, I packed my essentials and jumped on the next flight. My mom was worried and bugging me to find a nice boyfriend and spend some time with him. Since she fell in love with my dad in college, she expected me to do the same. I was not interested. I wanted to study and a relationship would take away all my time. I could barely manage my time with friends as it was.

He was introduced to me as a friend of Janice.

Janice was, well Janice was Janice.

I don’t know how to describe her. She was the daughter of Aunt Marie.

Aunt Marie was my mom’s best friend. She was actually my dad’s some distant cousin. When her husband left without an explanation, and leaving her financially dry, my parents helped her. So, when my dad passed away, she moved in with us for a couple of years, to make sure we were fed and doing okay. I loved Aunt Marie like my own mom. She was a constant loving presence growing up. She was there to take care of me when my mom was grieving.

Janice and I were supposed to be at least friends, given the way how our moms behaved. But we were far from it. She always made me uncomfortable. When we were with adults, she would be civil. But when we were in school and playgrounds she made me feel, for lack of better words, unwelcome.

I never did anything to her or she to me. Just uncomfortable silence and hateful stares from her was enough for me to steer clear from her. I was always loved and appreciated by everyone. So, I guess I was at loss dealing with someone who hated me for no apparent reason.

Obviously, when I heard, he was a friend of Janice, I stayed away from him as well.

Then he came for me and befriended me.

"Hi, Ace right?"

"Mm, I go by Dave."

"Your mom said Ace." He was confused.

"Yeah, my name is Ace Davidson. Please call me Dave."

Ace Davidson Truscott was my name. But ever since that bully of a boy in Kindergarten started calling me Ass instead of Ace, I switched to Dave. My mom still called me Ace sometimes though.

"I am Robert. Please call me Robbie." He was making fun of me.

I blushed.

He was handsome and older than me. He had that look of intelligence that came with maturity.

"Your mom was talking nonstop about you. MIT huh? That is a good college. You must be smart. What are you studying?"

"Yes, my college is the best. I am studying computer."

I left it at that. Mainly because mom said I had the tendency to ramble when asked about college or my studies. And that made people uncomfortable because they did not get what I was saying. Being smart has its own restrictions.

I did not want him to be uncomfortable. He must be trying to be polite and trying a small talk.

Normally, people would go like 'Oh, cool. The weather is hot, isn’t it?'

Not him.

"Computer? As in Computer Science or Computer Engineering?"

He was smart. Not many people got the difference.

That made him unique to me.

No one in my personal life was interested in my studies.

He was.

When I started to ramble, he listened. He accepted that somethings he didn’t get. He said what I was saying was cool and my ideas were futuristic. He was genuinely curious. And he hung on every word I had said.

Then I let him ramble. About his business, college projects he had done, his current plans to expand his company.

It was fun. He was fun. And he was so masculine too. He had that look that made you drawn to him as time goes.

I noticed his dark brown hair, his thin lips, sharp brown eyes, thick dark eyebrows. His thick fingers, rough hands and muscular biceps. His body in that suit was firm and hard with muscles.

But his intelligence floored me, how he was curious about anything and everything, how he carried on his conversations, his confidence in business matters were impressing me beyond measure.

I was attracted to him.

And unknown to me, I was attracting him.

I was not acquainted to the art of flirting. It took me sometime to understand that maybe he was flirting with me.

The accidental touches were not accidental. The looping of his arms on my waist was not just friendly. When he said silly jokes to my ears like big secret, it was not because he did not want others to hear.

I liked it. I liked it too much.

The days felt so much brighter and we spent most of the time talking. Or flirting.

I thought of us all the time when we were not together. Being boyfriends, going on dates, holding hands and kissing under stars.

I expected him to kiss me anytime soon because his eyes always lingered on my lips when I smiled. Or that was what I thought.

All of it came crashing down like a house of cards when Aunt Marie happily announced us that Robert had asked Janice to marry him.

Oh it crashed down alright. With my broken heart on top.