Flash Fiction: Witnesses

A few months ago, one of my gay friends challenged me to write a convincing M/M story. This is my first attempt, albeit brief, at just above 700 words. It’s a somewhat tame, voyeuristic piece, and although it isn’t explicitly stated, both characters are 18.

Each time Liam glanced up from his desk, he saw Avery, eyeballing him with that wiseacre smirk. Liam wrestled the urge to march across the classroom and right hook him in his haughty, self-righteous mug—the face that’s mocked him since they were assigned to the same dorm room that previous fall. Yet, just the thought of his fists making contact with Avery’s square jaw and prominent cheekbones was too much for Liam, since it would mean touching him and learning the true texture of his skin.

“Eyes on your own papers,” Mr. Connelly barked.

Liam’s gaze drifted back to the Spanish Civil War exam lying half-finished beneath his calloused palm. His fingers grasped the pen but were utterly useless without the aid of his brain, which may as well have been thousands of miles away in Spain. Liam closed his eyes and breathed deep, discharging the air via his mouth in a slow stream.

A muffled cough to his immediate right drew his attention. Sarah Gallagher, known on campus as “the silent observer” was watching him, too.

Around 2AM that morning, Liam had locked eyes with Sarah while fleeing his dorm room. Red-faced with a raging hard-on tugging at the front of his pajama pants, his blanket and pillow bunched beneath his elbow, he was certain she’d caught a glimpse of the room’s interior before he could shut the door.

Liam had managed to make it back to the prep school’s dormitories early after his girlfriend’s band concert, slipping into both bed and unconsciousness without distraction. However, he was roused from sleep a few hours later by heavy breathing, and by the time he realized what he was bearing witness to, it was too late.

The room was pitch black, save for the thin strip of light emanating from beneath the door. Laughter and footsteps resounded from the hallway, but there was no mistaking Avery’s soft moans and the sound of skin gliding upon skin. Liam squeezed his eyes shut, wanting desperately to reach into the waistband of his pants and massage his own burgeoning erection.

Avery’s breathing turned to whimpers, his strokes quickening, his sighs evolving into grunts. Liam remained still, gritting his teeth, hyper aware of the tension and warmth pooling in his groin.

Liam was determined ride it out, to refrain from tossing more kindling onto the fire of Avery’s suspicion. He cringed as he evoked Avery’s private nickname for his all-American, jock roommate: “Closet case,” articulated with that signature Southern drawl. His cock jumped at the recollection.

No, Liam thought. If he allowed himself to get off with Avery, to be seen or heard for what he truly was, then Avery would undoubtedly make it his mission to drag him further out of the closet. That’s how Avery operated: unabashedly out and proud at one of the most conservative prep schools in the state, strutting around campus in bright red skinny jeans with an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude that Liam envied. He could never see himself behaving that courageously, at least not while his parents were still paying for his education. He had too much to lose.

Grunting, panting, wheezing. Liam bit the insides of his cheeks, his cock and balls aching to be touched. Slowly, he inched a hand downward, closing his palm over his erection through the fabric of his pj’s. He squeezed and massaged his bulge, sighing.

Avery inhaled sharply, letting out a long groan that seemed to go on for almost thirty seconds. Liam tried not to imagine what Avery’s face looked like mid-orgasm or the way his semen was likely dripping from his fingers and pooling over his taut stomach, moistening the dark curls of his pubic hair.

Liam’s cock pulsated, his balls tightening. He held his breath.

“Need a hand, there, preppy?” Avery’s voice was hoarse, deeper than usual.

Liam shot out of bed, grabbing his pillow and blanket, and made quick strides towards the door. As he opened it, he glanced back just long enough to see the light from the hallway illuminate Avery’s bed: the covers pushed down over his calves; his legs splayed casually with his dwindling erection slumped to one side; his glistening abdomen and public curls.

Liam turned just in time to lock eyes with Sarah Gallagher before slamming the door.

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