Short Fiction: Please, Don’t Touch Me [1]

Finished the first part of this short fiction. Tomorrow I got edits on Sonata 9 newest chapter so I got this where I wanted it before Sunday. It’s written in the ‘BL’ style so if the prose feels light, forgive me.

Previous Post on the prompt for this story is here.

Proszę, Nie Dotykaj Mnie.
[Please, Don’t Touch Me.]

After touch-averse collegiate spies his childhood friend having sex with an upper classman, he plants a hidden camera to covertly join them.

Two clicks and a cleared cache solved the problem.

“You’re a life safer, Tobuś,” the oaf proclaimed, his hand reaching.

Tobi shifted to avoid him.

“Please,” he said coolly. “Don’t touch me.”

Ingvar, a legend in the field of whatever economics study the nation paid him to achieve, folded his arms. “What’s the problem?”

“You’re the problem.” Krzysiek, his friend since elementary school, stepped into the cubicle. “You know how Tobi feels about being touched, and you should respect that.”

Krzysiek’s complexion looked ghostly, with his long raven hair worn down. A social worker in training, the dark-eyed man’s affable nature camouflaged a fierceness that emerged when anyone dared make Tobi uncomfortable.

Marko appeared, sandalwood scented with his face in his phone.

Most of the upperclassmen were locals, some of whom bullied Tobiasz in high school. The sandy-haired Marko arrived as a stranger, serving as a teaching intern for the computer science headmaster, Doctor Bolonski.

His muscular build went unnoticed until one focused on his arms and thighs. The tanned former athlete jogged every morning before classes, giving the old ladies feeding the gulls something to gander.

Marko put his phone away. “Did Tobuś fix your problem?”

“He fixed my problem,” Ingvar said, frowning. “But he’s still broken,”

Krzysiek sucked his tongue and whispered, “Dickhead.”

“Tobuś,” Marko stood over him, hands in his pockets. “You’ve logged over thirty hours on the board this week. Bolonski says you’re done. Go home.”

Tobiasz closed his laptop and grabbed his bag.

“We’re hitting the pub after quitting time,” Ingvar said. “You’re coming with us, right?”

“Not tonight.” Marko shook his head. “I got some last-minute papers to grade.”

“It’s a holiday on Monday,” Ingvar griped.

“A holiday for you,” he grinned. “I don’t celebrate that shit.”

“I forgot,” said Ingvar. “You’re a Jew boy.”

Krzysiek rolled his eyes and moved aside for Tobiasz as he passed.

“We’re upgrading the firewall on Tuesday,” Marko called after him.

Tobiasz turned, “I’ll bring the coffee,”

“Wait, no, Tobi, stay here.” Krzysiek stepped to Igvar. “Iggy needs to apologize.”

“You need to sit your skinny ass down,” Ingvar countered.

Marko moved between them, “Indoor voices,”

“I didn’t do shit,” Ingvar said, brow bent. “I thanked Tobuś,”

“He’s not broken,” Krzysiek said. “You didn’t have to say that shit,”

Tobiasz whispered, “It’s fine, Krzysiek,”

“I’m sorry I weirded you out.” Ingvar huffed a sigh and regarded Tobiasz. “Prince touch-me-not,”

Marko groaned and pinched his nose bridge.

“You know what, Iggy, go fuck yourself,” Krzysiek thumped the thick man’s head with pointed fingers. “The next time you screw up your browser, find another guy to fix it.”

Tobiasz walked out the moment Krzysiek said the word fuck.

The warm spring air felt liberating after all day in the computer lab. Unchaining his Beverly 350, he caught Krzysiek closing the distance.

“Hey,” his youthful voice came scented with mint. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Tobiasz. “He’s not worth it, Krzysiek,”

“I know. We’re not in high school anymore.” His taller friend smiled, forming perfect dents in his hallow cheeks. “I got a short fuse when it comes to dickheads,”

Tobiasz started his scooter as Krzysiek mounted his Vespa.

“We’re playing Overwatch tonight, right?” he asked.

Krzysiek started but then relaxed. “Mom’s going to the campsite,”

“Why is she dragging you along?” Tobiasz tempered his frustration.

Krzysiek pulled on his helmet. “How about Monday?”

“This is the third time this week you’ve ditched me.” He studied his friend’s angelic face. “If you don’t want to play Overwatch anymore, we can play something else.”

“That’s not it,” Krzysiek pleaded, hands together as if praying. “Monday’s better for me, Tobi.”

Tobiasz rolled his scooter away from the parking stand.

“Since it’s a holiday, we can play all day,” said Krzysiek, his eyes suddenly shifting.

Tobiasz followed his gaze to the double doors, where Marko and Iggy emerged and parted ways. “Just let it go, Krzysiek.”


His one-bedroom flat off the Piaskowa offered no ocean view, only an endless scape of pine trees and the noisy birds that called them home. Three hours into the weekend, he was back on the Beverly cruising through Rowy, a seaside village with homes older than the nation.

The main drag boasted tourist haunts, closed until next month when the summer season unofficially started. Since before his birth, residents from the surrounding cities descended on Rowy for her white sandy beach, fried food, and the chilly Baltic Sea.

He sped down the long stretch of road, the dunes alongside higher than they were yesterday at this time. Before long, he rolled down his childhood street between the sea and the lake on the Gardno Spit. A couple of old-timers waved as he passed, his helmet masking his face.

After authorities took his mother away in a padded ambulance, the town council demolished their home and erected a playground with benches and a few standing barbecue pits.

A natural hedge of bushy foxtails separated the park from Krzysiek’s home. One of the few residences left on the Spit, he and Krzysiek painted its façade a warm pastel blue about five summers ago and touched up its snowy white trim every year. He slowed past the narrow two-floor and spotted the open front door behind the screen.

Krzysiek must’ve gotten out of camping with his mother.

He glided over the grass-crushed driveway and parked the Beverly next to his friend’s Vespa. The rickety screen door gave with a tug, the latch on its interior barely hooked in its notch. No one sat in the kitchen, and the living room across from it sat dark with the curtains drawn. Noises beckoned from his friend’s first-floor room.

Tobiasz crept over the dark hallway’s long rug, lured by steady knocking and the sound of labored breaths. Suddenly he found himself looking through the cracked door at Krzysiek and Marko rutting like sweaty animals.

Atop the bed, Marko stood on his knees, hips thrusting, blue eyes glassy and unfocused. The globes of Krzysiek’s pale buttocks lay flush against his muscular groin, and as he bucked his hips, each jerk made a lewd wet noise louder than his lover’s pleasured whine.

Krzysiek lay with his raised hips tight in Marko’s grasp. “Oh, it feels so good,” he groaned, lifting his ashen face from the bed. “So good…♡”

Tobiasz stood imprisoned by the sight of them.

“Ah, Ah, I’m going to—” Krzysiek choked beneath him. “I’m going to come….”

Marko grunted his approval, a lewd inaudible mantra made cruel when his teeth came together.

“Ah…” Krzysiek cried. “There, fuck, yeah, right there…♡,”

His back arched before his upper body lifted, and a condom clung to his narrow shaft despite his hand’s violent tempo. His forceful moaning forced Tobiasz back.

The hall lengthened as he advanced, and the world around him faded until Marko’s agonized whimper found his ears. Through sheer force of will, he crept back to the door.

Krzysiek now rested on his side, his naked back coated with sweat and a sky-blue sheet draped over his buttocks. Marko moved into view, his thick flaccid cock bouncing as he pulled on his briefs.

Humored, the tanned blond tugged at Krzysiek’s unseen crotch, demanding the condom; he threw his rubber away and washed up; sleepy Krzysiek needed to do the same.

Suddenly, Marko’s pale blue eyes lifted to the crack in the door.

Tobiasz darted away, then wandered down the hall. His hand touched the panel screen as Krzysiek’s bedroom door squeaked open. Thinking fast, he turned on his foot and returned as if entering the house.

Krzysiek came down the hall, a shadowy presence in sweatpants, until he entered the kitchen. His slim build was dwarfed in a faded Jaws t-shirt that once belonged to his father.

“Tobi,” he uttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “What are you doing here?”

Tobiasz acted as if he had just arrived, opening the fridge and pulling out a cola bottle. “I saw your mom’s car gone, but the front door open.” He twisted off the cap. “You talked her into leaving you behind, sweet,”

“Yeah,” Krzysiek hesitated. “I never planned on going with her,”

Tobiasz feigned confusion. “I thought you said—”

“-Hey,” Marko appeared wearing a white tracksuit. “I’m going to go,”

“Wait.” Krzysiek grabbed the jacket sleeve. “I’ll walk you out,”

“No, it’s fine, Krzysiu,” said Marko, hand raised. “Hey, Tobuś,”

Tobiasz nodded politely despite screaming inside when Marko spoke affectionately to his friend. Once alone, Krzysiek moved closer. Leaning against the fridge, he struggled to speak.

“You lied,” Tobiasz mumbled. “You said you were going with your mom,”

Krzysiek’s head swung. “I said my mom was going, not me,”

“Okay,” he said. “You just blew me off to hang out with Marko?”

Krzysiek exhaled. “We’re dating, Tobi,”

“Dating? Since when?”

“Since, like, two weeks ago,”

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I see you every day,” Krzysiek said. “We talk. We share lunch,”

“I mean, hanging out,” he struggled to temper his rage, “after classes,”

“I was never avoiding you,” Krzysiek defended. “I just made other plans.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice broke.

Krzysiek hugged himself. “I don’t know,”

“I mean, I know you’re gay,” he blurted. “Shit, I’m gay,”

“What?” Krzysiek stared at him. “Since when?”

“How did you not know that about me?”

“We’ve never talked about that stuff,” Krzysiek said, his eyes watering. “I mean, okay, I suspected it, but I didn’t want to come out and ask.”

“I would’ve told you,”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel,”

“I’d never be angry, Tobi,”

“I didn’t want you thinking I was saying I’m gay just because you’re clearly gay,” he said, and the look on Krzysiek’s face made him regret it. “I didn’t want you thinking I was faking it just to have something in common with you.”

“Tobi,” Krzysiek approached him. “I’d never think that at all,”

“Marko?” he pouted. “He’s such a-”

“Maruś is a good man,” Krzysiek snapped. “He’s a decent guy,”

He knew this and respected Marko, yet anger coursed through his veins like lava.

“Why are you acting like this, Tobi?”

He hungered for Krzysiek like a starving man. “I don’t know, I just,”

“You just what?” Krzysiek pressed. “I don’t get your attitude at all right now, Tobi. You’re my best friend. You should be happy for me,”

“I love you,” he blurted.

“I love you too,” Krzysiek spoke without missing a beat. “You’re a brother to me, and me seeing other guys will never change that. No man will ever change what we have, okay?”

“No!” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I love you, more than friends,”

Krzysiek quieted, his mouth ajar.

“I thought you and I could,” Tobiasz wiped his nose. “We could just, you know,”

“How long?” Krzysiek asked. “I mean, when did you start-”

“—years ago,” he said, staring at him. “I’ve loved you for years.”

Krzysiek got closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tobiasz stepped back. “Why didn’t you tell me about Marko?”

“I was waiting for the right time,” said Krzysiek.

“Right time?” he parroted.

“I’ve had other lovers,” Krzysiek said, confusion clouding his eyes. “If they don’t last more than a week, I don’t mention them to you or my mom.”

Krzysiek, in the throes of passion, seeped into his mind.

“This is really uncomfortable,” Krzysiek said softly. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong here, and I haven’t,”

“Forget it,” Tobiasz said, nodding. “You don’t owe me anything,”

Krzysiek’s hand found his shoulder, tightening the ropes in his stomach.

“Don’t,” he growled and withdrew as if burned.

Silence rushed in like a destructive wave.

“You say you love me like that,” Krzysiek said, the anger apparent. “But how is anything supposed to happen between us if you can’t even stand my touch.”

Bile bubbled in his stomach.

“You’re right,” he said, setting the bottle down. “You deserve a real man.”

“No,” Krzysiek blocked his path to the door. “Tobi, no,”

“I want to leave,” he said. “Pease let me leave,”

“You’re a real man, Tobi,” Krzysiek raised a finger. “I never said you weren’t,”

“I’m a real man, with real feelings,” he shouted and then calmed when Krzysiek flinched. “Just, please, let me leave.”

Krzysiek moved aside, his lower lip trembling as Tobiasz stepped around him as if minding a bubble only he could see. “Tobi, please…”

Outside, bits of wind-swept sand tickled his cheeks. Unwilling to dry his eyes, he mounted the Beverly and pulled on his helmet as the screen door slammed behind him. As Krzysiek approached, his black locks thrashed in the wind.

“Don’t leave like this,” he begged as Tobiasz started the Beverly and backed out of the driveway. “Please!”

Miles down the road, Tobiasz parked beside the bulkhead. At the shoreline, rocks and choppy seas shrouded his screams, as they did when he was a child.

He’d wanted Krzysiek with every fiber of his being, but his body couldn’t abide consummating such a love. He’d often satiated his lust with his own hands, conjuring the filthiest of fantasies. Tender moments found him sometimes, and in bed, he’d bring his hands together and lace his fingers, imagining Krzysiek’s hand in his own.

He shrieked into the gale until his voice gave out.

No phantom coupling compared to what he’d witnessed today. Krzysiek’s display of wanton desire gnawed at his brain. Their bodies came together in an obscene dance that his own would never partake in—he wanted to open a vein and bleed out into the sea.

He wanted no part of being Krzysiek’s brother. He hungered to bury himself deep inside Krzysiek and taste his sex. Soul be damned, his flesh needed nourishment; he needed meat torn from the bone.

Tobiasz would have him the only way he knew how…

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