Title: Peter Kissed Me
Author/pseudonym: Tinnean
Fandom: In and Out
Pairing: Howard Brackett/Peter Malloy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These gorgeous guys belong to Paramount,
and Paul Rudnick who wrote their story. Some of the dialogue has been lifted
from the movie, sorry, it was too good to resist.
Status: new/complete
Date: 7/01
Series/Sequel: not at this point, but quien sabe?
Summary: Howard is trying to convince everyone he
isn’t gay. He isn’t. Is he?
Warnings: m/m
Notes: For Silk and Gail, who are my friends. I hope
this amuses and cheers.
Peter Kissed Me
Part 1/1
The confrontation with Tom Halliwell, principal of
Greenleaf High, left me shaken.
So shaken, that I actually went to confession. And I’m
not even Catholic! But something the kind but clueless priest said put the idea
in my head.
I would fuck Emily now. I had been waiting for our wedding
night, wanting her to know that I respected her.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.
After a three-year engagement, how could I admit that the
reason I never slept with my fiancée was because I never wanted to sleep
with her?
When we first started dating, I convinced myself, and
Emily, that her plumpness was what kept us from consummating our relationship.
But Emily pulled a fast one. She actually lost weight, started exercising, and
proved to be quite attractive.
After we became engaged, I convinced Emily that the proper
thing to do would be to wait for our wedding night.
And Emily just wanted to be loved so badly, wanted to belong
to someone so desperately, that she accepted my high-handed decree. She even sat
through umpteen viewings of Barbra Streisand’s Funny Lady.
But things were reaching critical mass. The entire town of
Greenleaf was ready to believe I was gay, just because I taught high
school English, I was tidy and, as some of my seniors had no qualms about
telling me, I was prissy.
I am not gay!
Why did no one believe me? I mean, if I were gay,
wouldn’t I be the first one aware of this little fact?
Well, after I saw the priest, I hopped on my trusty bike
and pedaled my way to Emily’s house. She was dressed in black leotards and
tights, and an exercise tape was in the VCR. Her skin was coated with a sheen of
perspiration, but I ignored that and yanked her into my arms.
She gave a little yelp, and when I pressed my mouth to
hers, her lips tightened. I was aware as never before that she never responded
to my french kisses. On those few occasions when I french kissed her.
I drew back, pulling off my jacket and tossing my tie off
to the side somewhere.
“I’m not gay, Emily!” I panted, as I tore my shirt
open. “I love you and we’re getting married on Sunday!”
“Yes, of course we are Howard. Your Mom ordered the cake,
the church is all decorated and my dress is ready! I lost weight for you!”
“We’re going to make love now!” I informed her. I
toppled her over onto her daybed and kissed my way from her shoulder, up her
throat, along her chin and down to her other shoulder.
Her response was less than enthusiastic, but she was
willing to go along with me. Emily stroked her hands over my back, and I
shuddered when I thought she was about to reach under my waistband and cup my
buttocks.
But she didn’t.
And then I heard this voice saying very perkily, “Let’s
do Michael! Michael, Michael, bo-bichael.” And Richard Simmons was
leading his hoard of followers as they sweated to the oldies.
For a second I was mesmerized by his hairy thighs and
calves. A whine of protest from Emily brought me back to reality. “Howard,
you’re crushing me!”
In horror, I leaped off her and backed away. The entire
time I had kissed and caressed her and had lain on her, I had been soft. But the
sight of those bulging calves had turned me on.
I moaned and grabbed my shirt, wrestling into it, then
scooped up my jacket and threw it on. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Emily. At the
church! Tomorrow!”
“Howard…!”
But I ran for my bike and flung myself on it. I tore off
down the main street of Greenleaf, the wheels spinning in a blur.
I needed to get away, I needed to think. I needed to…
I needed to avoid that car whose path I was about to cross!
The driver of the car spun his steering wheel sharply to
the left and skidded on the gravel. I
twisted the handlebars of my bike and used my foot to control the spin of my
wheels. The front wheel hit a clump of grass and I was send flying off onto the
side of the road.
The driver bounded out of his car. “My God, Howard!
Howard! Are you all right?”
I lay in the grass and dirt, trying painfully to catch my breath. “No—“ I panted. “I—am--*not*--all –right! I’ll never be all right! Oh, God, it’s you!”
He had the nerve to look around as if seeking someone else.
“Why, yes, it is me!” he smiled.
I growled at him. “This is all your fault! If you
hadn’t come here, questioning everyone in this town…”
“Howard,” he said patiently, “everyone in this town loves
you!”
I rolled to my side and started to get to my feet. Peter
Malloy moved closer to take my arm and help me. I jerked away from him and
stumbled. “They love me as long as I’m not gay! Oh, why am I talking to you?
How could you possibly understand?” I sat heavily on a natural rock formation
that the town fathers had dedicated to some obscure hero and buried my head in
my hands.
The news commentator removed his sunglasses and regarded me
carefully. “Howard, I’m gay.”
I couldn’t believe how calmly he made that statement. As
if the world would not come to an end. As if everyone would still love him.
As if my job, the one thing I loved more than anything else
on the face of the earth, the thing I was really, truly good at, would not be
taken away from me.
“You came out?” I repeated stupidly.
“Sure. To my parents. To my boss. To my dog!”
I looked at him in confusion. “What happened?”
“Well, my mom cried, for about ten seconds. My boss said
“Who cares?’ And my dad said, ‘But you’re so tall!’”
For a moment it was almost as if I might hope…“Well, be
that as it may, I am not gay!”
“Oh no? What was Barbra Streisand’s eighth album?”
“Are you crazy? It was Color Me Barbra!”
Peter flirted with his lashes and murmured, “Stud!”
I could feel the blush, which started below my collar and
went up to my hairline. I licked my lips and opened my mouth to protest. I mean,
that was an easy question. Everyone knew that!
Didn’t they?
“You know what you need, Howard?” he asked
nonchalantly.
Him.
Jesus, where did that thought come from? I spoke rapidly so
he’d never realize how close I came to doing something stupid. “I need for
this never to have happened!” I snapped. “I need to get married tomorrow! I
need…!”
And then I couldn’t say anything else, because his mouth
was on mine. His hands were tight on my arms, but I could have broken his hold,
if I had tried. If I had wanted…
Only I was lost in the magic of that kiss, in the warmth
and the damp and the smooth glide of his tongue in my mouth.
I hung from his grip, my legs as limp as over-cooked
spaghetti. I couldn’t think straight. All I knew was that I wanted more of
that mouth plundering mine. Somehow I managed to get my left leg hooked around
his waist, and dragged his lower body closer.
And, oh God! He was hard!
He let me go, and I stumbled in a circle, trying to regain
my senses. “You…you kissed me!” I sputtered.
Peter looked insufferably pleased with himself. “You
noticed!”
My fingers explored the shape of my mouth, sure he had
branded me. I ran my tongue over my lips, tasting him, and my cock, which had
been so soft for Emily, was rock hard, tenting my trousers.
But aside from a slight puffiness, there was no indication
that Peter Malloy had kissed me, and rocked my world.
Which was a good thing, because just then my folks drove by
in their station wagon, the five-tier wedding cake taking pride of place in the
back seat.
“Hi, sweetheart!” my mother called. “Everything all
right?”
“Um, yes, Mom,” I responded, rubbing my mouth. “This
is my Peter, I mean my friend Peter! We just ran into each other in the
intersexual…I mean the homosection…the intersection… I’ve got to
go prepare! I’m getting married tomorrow!” I ran for my bike and up righted
it.
“If you’re Howard’s buddy, please come to the
wedding,” Mom told Peter, and I groaned under my breath. “Oh, you’re with
the news show!” she gushed.
Peter put his sunglasses back on and gave her a beaming
smile. “Thank you!”
“Darling…”
“Gotta go, Mom!” I threw a leg over the sissy bar of my
bike and thrust off.
I heard the wagon drive away, and risked a glance over my
shoulder.
Peter was just standing there, watching me. And the smile
on his face…
Well, it made me really sorry I wasn’t gay.
~End~
