Short Fiction: Please Don’t Touch Me.

Proszę, Nie Dotykaj Mnie.
[Please, Don’t Touch Me.]
After touch-averse collegiate spies his childhood friend having sex with an upperclassman, he plants a hidden camera and covertly joins in their couplings.
Copyright © 2022 Tina Kolesnik
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover art stock by FreePik.


Please, Don’t Touch Me.
Web Fiction Format


Two clicks and a cleared cache solved the problem.

“You’re a lifesaver, Tobus,” the oaf proclaimed, his hand reaching.

Tobiasz shifted in his seat.

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

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

“You’re the problem.” Krzysiek’s long raven hair made his skin seem ghostly. “You know how he feels about being touched.”

The scent of sandalwood entered the cubicle and heralded Marko. Most upper-level students were locals, some of whom bullied Tobiasz in high school, but the sandy-haired Marko was a stranger. He possessed an unassuming build until one focused on his corded arms and thighs.

“Did Tobus fix your problem?” he asked, face in his phone.

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

Krzysiek sucked his tongue; the geniality in his dark eyes camouflaged a fierceness that emerged when anyone dared disrespect his friend

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

Tobiasz closed his laptop and grabbed his bag. “Thanks.”

“We’re upgrading the firewall on Tuesday,” he said after him.

“I’ll bring the coffee,” said Tobiasz.

“Wait, no, Tobi.” Krzysiek halted him with an untouching hand. “Iggy needs to apologize.”

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

Marko moved between them. “What the hell?”

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

“He’s not broken,” Krzysiek said.

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

“You didn’t have to say that shit,” his friend pressed.

“I’m sorry I weirded you out,” Ingvar huffed, “prince touch-me-not,”

Marko 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 when he heard the word fuck.

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

“Hey,” his airy voice smelled of bubble gum. “Are you okay?”

Tobiasz sighed. “He’s not worth it, Krzysiek,”

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

Tobiasz started his scooter. “We’re playing Overwatch tonight, right?”

“Uh,” Krzysiek swung a long leg over the seat of his Vespa. “Mom’s going to the campsite,”

“Why is she dragging you along?” he asked.

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

“You’ve ditched me three times this week.” He studied his friend’s bright red helmet. “If you don’t want to play Overwatch anymore, we can play something else.”

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

Tobiasz rolled his scooter away from the parking stand.

“Since it’s a holiday, we can play all day,” Krzysiek added, his gaze shifting to the double doors, where Marko and Iggy emerged and parted ways.

“Just let it go, Krzysiek,” he said.


Three hours into the weekend found Tobiasz cruising through Rowy on his Beverly. A seaside village with homes older than the nation, its main drag boasted tourist haunts that stayed boarded up until the summer.

He rolled over the final speed bump and sped down a long stretch of road, the curtaining dunes higher since yesterday. He turned down his childhood street, the only bit of newly paved asphalt between the sea and the lake on the Gardno Spit.

Despite the helmet masking his face, some old-timers waved as he passed. Everyone on the Spit knew him, and that’s why he no longer lived here.

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 it 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.

Tobiasz slowed near the narrow two-floor and found the front door opened behind its screen; Krzysiek must’ve gotten out of camping with his mother. He glided onto the grass-crushed driveway and parked the Beverly next to his friend’s Vespa.

The rickety screen door gave with a tug, the latch barely hooked in its notch. The kitchen sat empty; the living room dark with the curtains drawn.

Noises beckoned from his friend’s first-floor room. The hallway’s long rug padded his steps as he approached the steady knocking and labored breaths.

Through the crack in the door, he saw Marko on his knees atop the bed, hips thrusting, blue eyes glassy and unfocused. The pale globes flush against Marko’s muscular groin bounced as he bucked, each push emitting a lewd wet noise.

“Oh, feels so good,” Krzysiek lay with his chest on the bed, his ashen face dripping with sweat, his waist high in Marko’s grasp. “So good…”

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

“Ah…” Krzysiek raised his upper body on one arm, the condom on his narrow shaft clinging under his hand’s violent tempo. “There, fuck, yeah, right there…”

Tobiasz froze as his friend climaxed, and then everything around him blurred until Marko’s agonized whimper reclaimed his focus.

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

The blond man tugged at Krzysiek’s unseen crotch. With a grin, he demanded the condom; he trashed his rubber and washed up, and Krzysiek needed to do the same.

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

Tobiasz slipped away and moved down the hall.

The bedroom door behind him squeaked open when his hand touched the front screen. Thinking fast, he pivoted on his heel and stepped back inside.

Krzysiek’s shadowy presence gained form as he entered the kitchen. His slim build drowned in the faded Jaws t-shirt that once belonged to his father.

“Tobi,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Tobiasz opened the fridge and took out a cola bottle.

“I saw your mom’s car gone, but the front door was open.” He twisted off the cap, his heart racing. “You talked her into leaving you behind,”

“Yeah.” Krzysiek tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I never planned on going with her,”

Tobiasz feigned confusion. “I thought you said—”

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

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

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

Tobiasz nodded politely while screaming inside.

Krzysiek closed the door after he departed, then returned to the kitchen stinking of the man’s cologne.

“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.” The black cola in his hand silently erupted into tiny bubbles. “You just blew me off to hang out with Marko.”

Krzysiek leaned against the fridge.

“We’re dating, Tobi,”

Tobiasz moved to the other side of the table.

“Since when?”

“Since, like, two weeks ago,”

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I see you every day in class,”

“I mean, hanging out.” He struggled to temper his rage. “After classes,”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Krzysiek defended. “I just made other plans.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

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

“I mean, I know you’re gay,” he said, voice shaking. “Shit, I’m gay,”

Chocolate eyes regarded him with confusion.

“How did you not know that about me?” he stuttered.

“We’ve never talked about that stuff.” Krzysiek’s voice broke. “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 didn’t want you thinking I was saying I’m gay just because you’re clearly gay.” Tobiasz watched as the crease in Krzysiek’s brow deepened. “I didn’t want you to think I was faking it just to have something in common with you.”

His friend moved closer. “I’d never think that at all,”

Tobiasz stepped around the table.

“Marko?” he pouted. “He’s such a—”

“-Marus is a good man,” Krzysiek snapped.

His desires had made him forget that.

“Why are you acting like this, Tobi?”

 “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I just—”

“-You just what?”

He slammed the full bottle on the table.

“I don’t get your attitude,” the pale boy added. “You’re my best friend, Tobi, you should be happy for me,”

“Happy?” he huffed.

Krzysiek’s eyes widened. “Where is this shit coming from?”

“I love you,” Tobiasz blurted.

“I love you too,” Krzysiek said. “You’re a brother to me, and me seeing other guys will never change that. No man will ever change our friendship, okay?”

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

Red seeped into Krzysiek’s porcelain cheeks.

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

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

“-Years ago.” He forced himself to look the boy in the eyes. “I’ve loved you for years.”

Krzysiek stepped around the table.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tobiasz retreated to the fridge.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Marko?”

“I was waiting for the right time,”

“Right time?”

“I’ve had other lovers, Tobi.” Confusion masked his long delicate face. “If they don’t last more than a week, I don’t mention them to you or my mom.”

Hearing of other men made him dizzy, and thoughts of Krzysiek’s wanton moans robbed him of words.

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

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

A hand found his shoulder, violently tightening the ropes in Tobiasz’s stomach. “Don’t,” he withdrew as if burned.

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

Tobiasz clenched his teeth; a touch felt like a blade dragged across his skin, and he carried scars from every time someone touched him.

“You’re right.” Bile bubbled in the pit of his stomach. “You deserve a real man.”

“No,” Krzysiek blocked his path and raised a finger. “Tobi, no,”

“I want to leave.” He rushed around the table. “Pease let me leave,”

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

“I’m a real man with real feelings,” he yelled.

Krzysiek flinched.

“Just, please,” Tobiasz whispered. “Please let me leave.”

His friend drifted sideways as he minded the imaginary bubble between them. Outside, bits of wind-swept sand taunted his cheeks. He mounted the Beverly and pulled on his helmet as the screen door slammed behind him.

Krzysiek’s black locks thrashed in the wind.

“Don’t leave like this,” he begged.

Tobiasz started the scooter and backed out of the driveway.

“Please,” he cried after him.

Miles down the road, Tobiasz threw down his motorbike. Shored rocks and choppy seas shrouded his screams, as they did when he was a child.

For years, he’d lusted after Krzysiek with every fiber of his being, but his body couldn’t consummate such desires. He spent countless nights satiating his lust alone, conjuring the filthiest fantasies as he pleasured himself under the sheets.

Tender moments came when he brought his hands together and laced his fingers, imagining Krzysiek’s hand in his own.

Krzysiek’s unrestrained performance gnawed at his brain; that wispy body conjoined to Marko’s in an obscene dance that Tobiasz could never partake in.

He shrieked into the gale until his voice gave out. He hungered to bury himself deep inside his friend, to grasp his sex and taste it. His starvation left him ravenous enough to tear flesh from bone.


Easter Monday involved dousing your crush with enough water to expose their naked body through soaked clothes. Since his youth, he’d arrived at his friend’s every Dyngus Day, armed with a super-soaker.

Krzysiek fought back with a hose, but that spindly rubber cord was no match for his high-end water cannon. He’d thoroughly drench the lanky young man and then ogle the results; how could Krzysiek not have noticed his desire?

The campus firewall installation took hours, with all three IT students playing the waiting game. He brought coffee as promised, even milk tea for Marko, who started his days drinking the black tea sweetened with evaporated milk.

Marko said nothing about Friday, yet Tobiasz awaited a confrontation when the cordial man’s cologne suddenly permeated his workspace.

“Tobus.” Careful not to touch him, Marko’s minty whisper tickled his ear. “Bolonski’s birthday party is after classes today. If you’re not attending, let me know.”

“I have other plans,” he said, eyes on the screen.

“That’s fine.” Marko moved away. “Just leave some cash in the can,”

Tobiasz turned. “I can give you a fiver,”

Marko stared down at him, blue eyes free of judgment.

“That’ll work,” he said, tapping the desk near the keyboard.

Tobiasz put the folded bill where Marko tapped. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said, grabbing it. “If you change your mind, come get me in Bolonski’s office. We can walk over together.”

Confusion quelled his guilt; sitting through the first of his two classes, Tobiasz replayed those blue eyes meeting his through the crack in the door. He wasn’t mistaken or misremembering; his shame still burned to the bone.

At his last class, Krzysiek awaited him in row eight, hopeful eyes targeting him as he walked to the third row.

Tobiasz had deleted every text his friend sent since Friday, and when Krzysiek showed up at the apartment on Easter Monday, he’d stuffed earbuds in to avoid hearing his name called through the door.

After the lecture, he exited without looking back.

Bolonski’s open door provided scant light in the darkened vestibule. The advisors locked up their tech-wing offices this late in the day, most hoping to get home before commuter traffic clogged the byway. He hadn’t changed his mind about attending the party, but Marko suggesting they walk together hinted at his wanting to talk.

“It felt like we were twelve again.” Krzysiek’s boyish tenor filtered out. “We were digging in the sand, and I touched him, and he ran home crying.”

Everyone’s yard on the Spit contained sand, and he and Krzysiek spent that day creating their version of an Aztec city. The absorbent grains made adding water to the canals impossible, and when he expressed frustration, his friend tried hugging him.

“Friday, it felt like that all over again,” said Krzysiek. “Marus, what if he saw us?”

Marko’s baritone indicated movement.

“You saw him coming in, right?”

Krzysiek sighed. “Yes, but he—”

“-Then how did he see anything?”

Tobiasz bit his thumb. They hadn’t exchanged words that afternoon at Krzysiek’s, but the man had seen him standing there; of that, he was sure.

“I waited in lit class for him, and he sat somewhere else,” Krzysiek said. “He has always sat with me since day one,”

“I know it’s none of my business,” Marko said softly. “But why is he the way he is?”

“His mom went on this religious kick after his dad died. Like, she pulled him out of school over the littlest things. The priest was at their house at least once a week, calming her down.” Pity came out in Krzysiek’s voice. “My mom felt like shit. She’d bring Tobi in because he was always outside.”

“What was wrong with his house?” Marko asked.

“His mom never threw anything away. Tobi climbed in and out of his bedroom window to leave the house because all her shit blocked the hallway. My mom washed his school uniforms because he couldn’t get to the washer and dryer.”

Tobiasz thrust out his jaw.

Mother’s hoarding left him germophobic, and maybe her infiltration of their physical surroundings left him tainted, yet hearing Krzysiek diagnose him so casually felt like a fresh violation.

“Tobi slept overnight four or five times a week. When we started high school, my parents divorced, so Tobi’s mom said he couldn’t come over anymore. He always found a way,”

Marko asked, “You came out to him, right?”

“Before we started classes here, yes. Most of my hookups were when I went into Gdansk with my mom, so he knew I was gay, but I guess he didn’t know I had sex?”

“Did he ever ask you out?”

“Never. Like, I never suspected Tobi felt that way about me or anyone, for that matter,” Krzysiek sounded tearful. “What a shitty fucking friend I am, right?”

“Not at all, Krzysiu,”

Marko’s honeyed words turned Tobiasz’s stomach.

“Like, how did I not know?” Krzysiek wondered. “If he never speaks to me again, I totally deserve it, right?”

“Clearly, he counted on you staying in life,” Marko said. “He might think hooking up with you is the next logical step.”

“He’s not capable of hooking up,” said Krzysiek.

Tobiasz’s head throbbed.

Like all men, he possessed a sex drive. Gay escorts accommodated his odd stipulations, but his anxiety during those trysts caused him to go limp.

Krzysiek declared, “I should go over there,”

“No, you should give him some space,” Marko cautioned. “He’ll come back to you when he’s ready.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“I don’t think that’s how it’ll play out. He loves you as a friend,” said Marko. “He knows his problems, and he knows he needs therapy,”

“He stopped seeing his therapist,”

Therapy worsened his touch aversion, but at least the counselor facilitated his purchase of a masturbation sleeve.

“Well, then he has his reasons for that, too,” Marko countered. “He’s not obligated to fix himself to fit anyone’s standards, Krzysiu.”

“I know, but—”

“-Just give him time,” said Marko. “I don’t think he’ll want to lose you as a friend, so give it time.”

The sound of their mouths coming together brought pain.

“I’m sorry you’re both going through this shit,” Marko whispered.

Tobiasz retreated, his heart reeling to know that he and his crazy mother were just another terrible happenstance from Krzysiek’s childhood, like a car accident or his parents’ divorce.

He would forgive Krzysiek for being a callous ass someday.

Anger gave way to longing as visions of those pale white buttocks fixed to Marko’s muscled groin polluted his thoughts. Tobiasz would make Krzysiek groan loud enough to wake the dead.

He rummaged through an equipment box at his apartment and pulled out a still-packaged wireless spy camera as thoughts of fucking his friend’s throat overtook him like a fever. The erotic gagging became background noise as he watched his friend’s mother get into her Fiat, dressed up for a night on the town.

Krzysiek’s bedroom was familiar territory.

He nested the tiny camera among a collection of shelved plush toys, then synced it with his phone. He adjusted the camera to center the bed on his palm-sized screen and convinced himself that Krzysiek’s privacy was suitable penance for revealing his childhood trauma.


Tobiasz’s spartan flat housed his entire life outside of school; a mattress on the floor, the mini-refrigerator with a plywood crown for a microwave, and his most expensive asset—a custom PC designed for gaming and video.

He rolled the desk wheels into the permanent impressions they’d left on the rug and swung his computer’s large monitor around to face the bed. A leather-covered mount packed with foam sat atop the mattress, its downward angle containing a round opening.

From a lockbox under his desk, he retrieved his lover.

The pink and pliable sheath felt like silk in his hands, and the anus upon its rounded top resembled a pair of small, puckered lips. He lathered it up before rinsing the suds clean, then eliminated what droplets remained with his hair dryer.

Satisfied, he tucked the sleeve into a folded heating pad and jumped into the shower.

Hot water soon dulled his anger enough to consider his actions. Draped in a towel, he stared bitterly at the mount while the computer at the foot of his bed mocked him.

Before tears could fall, his phone binged. He grabbed the anal sleeve’s outer casing, a hard beige shell that resembled a flashlight, and inserted his warmed lover into it. Kneeling before the mount, he opened the spy cam app on his phone and found Marko on the end of the bed, his legs parted for Krzysiek, whose head bobbed in the man’s lap.

Tobiasz swiped a finger across his phone’s screen, casting the playback to his computer monitor. He shoved the case into the mount’s opening and pressed two wireless audio buds into his ears. Krzysiek’s pleasured humming tightened his skin.

The lubricant’s thin pointed tip slipped into the anus, and after filling it to his satisfaction, Tobiasz pulled it out and coated his hand.

Krzysiek rose to his feet and pushed Marko onto his back.

Wet kisses filled Tobiasz’s ears as Krzysiek hovered over his lover, tailbone slinking from side to side. A pair of tanned hands snaked up the back of his thin thighs toward the black underwear that covered the globes of his snowy white ass.

“Yeah, suck my tits,” Krzysiek said softly.

Tobiasz nodded, licking his lips.

Fingers dipped into the dark fabric. A hand peeled down Krzysiek’s underwear and exposed his backside, while another returned with a tube of lubricant. Krzysiek edged further on the man hidden beneath him. “Suck my dick,”

The underwear stretched as his thighs parted, obscuring Marko, who noisily fulfilled the request. One hand opened the lube and squeezed a thick dollop upon Krzysiek’s tailbone while the other smeared it within his cleft.

Tobiasz reached for the leather-skinned mount, his eyes trained on the play-back while fingering the sleeve’s hole. “Fuck, yeah,” he whispered as the wrinkled folds gave quickly to his middle digit.

“Yeah,” Krzysiek sand. “Get me ready,”

“Want me to get you ready?” Tobiasz moved his finger in and out. “Is that one what you want?”

“Oh, right there,”

“…so warm and tight,” Tobiasz gasped while on the screen, three fingers stretched his friend’s opening. “I just want to fuck it.”

Krzysiek arched his back and whined like a child.

“I want to make you come,” Tobiasz pleaded. “Come for me, Krzysiu.”

His friend’s sudden and vulgar climax struck every nerve.

Marko emerged beneath his limp body, chest covered in spunk. He moved off the bed and yanked his skinny lover up by the hips.

Tobiasz closed his eyes, took hold of the mount’s sides, and pressed his cockhead against the slick folds.

“Fuck my ass,”

“Anything you want,” Tobiasz whispered, pushing his way inside.

“Oh…It’s stretching me so good,”

The cloying wetness gripped his flesh.

“…going to start moving,” he whispered.

Krzysiek’s pleasured sobs guided him.

“Feels so good,” Tobiasz grunted as it milked the length of his shaft. “…love you, I love you, Krzysiu…I love…I love it….”

“Wait,” Krzysiek’s voice faltered. “Ow…too deep….”

Tobiasz opened his eyes.

Krzysiek lay propped up on his shoulders, his thin legs spread wide and trapped under his lover’s arms. A thick cock burrowed into his hole, forcing out lubricant with each downward stab.

“Oh, fuck, yeah.” Tobiasz’s nails dug into the mount’s leather skin as he pumped harder. “Uh, I love it…love your hole… beautiful hole.”

The shaft punched into his friend’s gaping ass, bringing Tobiasz’s cock unbridled pleasure.

“…please, let me fuck…I need to fuck it,”

Krzysiek’s groans bordered on screams.

“Just a little longer, Krzysiu,” he pleaded. “You feel so good, so good….”

Pleasure seized his groin.

“I love it. I love it so much.”

A euphoric wave spread from his balls and warmed his groin until he slumped over the mount, exhausted.

“Yeah, that’s better,” Krzysiek’s soft voice assaulted his ears as Marko kept fucking. “That’s better, like that, yeah, like that,”

Tobiasz pulled his softening flesh from the hole, yanked free the earbuds, and shoved the mount off the mattress. Going fetal, he buried his face under his arm.

“I’m sorry, God, help me,” he wept. “I’m sorry, Krzysiu.”


Tobiasz didn’t change seats when Krzysiek sat beside him in the lecture hall; eye contact came easily after devouring his friend’s orgasms. Like his anger, the guilt faded with time, and twice a week for two weeks, he took part in fucking Krzysiek.

His childhood friend rambled incessantly about the mundane as if recouping lost time; it had been twelve days, not twelve years.

Bitterness returned when Krzysiek bounded into the computer lab on the pretense of visiting him. Ignored by Tobiasz, he casually drifted to Marko, who wordlessly punctuated their exchange with a knowing glance.

Tobiasz watched the covert dance, realizing he’d seen it many times before.

After class, Krzysiek pushed out the front doors calling his name as Marko came trailing behind him and, without a word, veered toward the parking lot. Tonight, they’d hook up since his mother worked the late shift.

“Overwatch this weekend?”

“I don’t know if I can.” Tobiasz pulled on his helmet. “I’ll let you know before Friday,”

Krzysiek seemed content with the non-refusal.

“What about tonight?” Tobiasz added, knowing the answer.

Krzysiek stared at the ground. “Marko’s coming over,”

“See you tomorrow,” he said, turning on the engine.

“Hey,” Krzysiek stepped into the motorbike’s path. “Text me later?”

“If I’m still awake,” he promised through his face shield.

His ride home took longer since warmer temperatures brought weekday visitors.

The walking strip of Piaskowa bustled with early-season tourists excited for the sandy beach, fried food, and chilly Baltic. His one-bedroom flat offered no ocean view, only an endless scape of pine trees and the noisy birds that called them home.

Tobiasz prepared for the night’s voyeuristic lovemaking and wondered how long it would continue without remorse. Naked at his desk, one hour turned to three. He rang Krzysiek, hanging up when it took him to voicemail.

Moments later, a chime signaled a text.
//Cn’t ansr rn. Kinda of bzy//

Tobiasz gnashed his teeth.
//Fridays good for me, see you then//

Krzysiek’s response came overnight. //YAY!!//

Friday morning brought torrential rain that pelted him as he stood upon the bulkhead rocks.

Headlights passed as he motored along the slope, and when he pulled into his friend’s driveway, the outdoor light came on above the side door.

Krzysiek met him with a towel.

“You’re soaked to the bone.”

“I’m fine,” said Tobiasz, following him inside.

“Strip down and get in the shower,”

He took the towel and wiped his face.

“You’re going to get sick.” Krzysiek’s dotting felt nice. “Just get into the shower. I’ll dry your clothes,”

Teal blue tiles covered the bathroom walls, broken up by the occasional square with a cartoonish mermaid painted upon it. He stepped into the porcelain tub and pulled the curtain around it. Warm water rinsed clean his body before the curtain around him heaved; his friend quietly collected his wet clothes before pulling the door closed.

Tobiasz stepped out and wrapped himself in a towel. From the hall, he heard Krzysiek move about the kitchen, and then the dryer began humming.

He flicked on the light in the darkened bedroom and quickly dimmed it before surveying the hall.

The plushy animals on the shelf looked untouched. He shoved aside a Japanese-style kitty but found no camera. Frantic, he groped behind all the animals and scored nothing but dusty fingertips.

Back in the bathroom, he heard the front door open. Moments later, Krzysiek’s mother’s voice came as the locked knob jiggled.

“Tobi?” she inquired with a knock.

“Are my clothes dry?”

“Not yet,” she laughed. “I got these for you,”

Tobiasz thanked her before peeking out and snatching up the clothes. Krzysiek’s sweats cut off at the knees stunk of laundry soap, as did the shirt and its faded print of Char Anzable’s red Zaku mobile suit.

Anxiety hounded him as he passed the bedroom door.

Krzysiek waited on the couch, crunching banana chips with his long hair tied back and a controller in his hand. They gamed most of the day, his friend scolding him when he played less than expected.

Tobiasz excused himself while Krzysiek cooked some pizza rolls.

The spy cam wasn’t on the second shelf, nor the floor beneath it.

Back in the kitchen, Krzysiek’s mother needled him about Marko. She chastised him for having sex in her house, something she’d done countless nights since her divorce. Their confrontation ended when Tobiasz appeared.

“Tobi,” she asked, grabbing her keys. “Are you spending the night?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that,” Krzysiek snapped.

“Come move your scooter,” she said. “I need to back out,”

Krzysiek grinned at him.

“Did you park behind her?”

“I thought it was her day off,” Tobi nodded.

Outside, she confronted him with a sour look.

“Tobi,” she said. “I know you won’t rat him out,”

He crossed his arms over his chest.

“If that Marek boy comes here, I want you to tell me,”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said.

“What’s going on is that he’s fucking my son under my roof,” she spat. “I know you and Krzysiu like boys, and that’s fine with me, but don’t do shit like that in my house,”

Tobiasz couldn’t hide his smile.

“Quit laughing,” she said playfully. “Or I’ll hug you,”

He stepped back and sucked in his lips.

After she sped off, he returned to find Krzysiek back on the couch.

“What did that bitch want?”

“She wanted me to move my bike,”

“You don’t have to stay over,”

“I won’t if Marko is coming by,”

Krzysiek’s silence gutted him.

“That wasn’t the plan,” his friend murmured. “She took another shift thinking you’d be here all night.”

He forced a smile. “It’s fine.”

“Shit,” Krzysiek huffed a sigh. “I’ll tell him to stay home,”

“It’s fine,” he said, chuckling. “When’s he coming?”

“Around eight.” Krzysiek cheered up. “We have time for another campaign.”

Tobiasz sat beside him on the couch.

“Try not to get me killed this time,”

“For real?” Krzysiek complained. “You haven’t had your head in the game all day,”

They spent two hours fighting through another level, Krzysiek praising his little victories every step of the way.

Anger threatened to erupt like a scalding geyser.

Krzysiek suspected nothing; Tobiasz had mastered his rage as a child.

A knock at the door brought Marko, and when Krzysiek hopped up and kissed him, Tobiasz grabbed his controller.

“You’re not leaving right now, are you?”

“I should head back.” Tobiasz eyed Marko. “See you, Monday,”

Krzysiek pouted. “You don’t have to go this minute,”

“If he wants to go, let him go,” Marko said.

“Thanks,” he nodded at the man.

Krzysiek skipped off to his room. “Wait, Tobi, I got your things,”

Visions of Krzysiek returning with the spy cam flooded his brain; they had found it and planned on confronting him together.

“Tobus.” Marko extended his fist before turning it over and opening his hand. “You should’ve spent the money and bought one with a longer battery life.”

The spy cam centered his palm like a bullet hole.

“Take it,” he whispered. “Before he comes back,”

Tobiasz opened his hand, and the taller man grunted softly before dropping the button-sized device into it.

Both moved from each other when Krzysiek returned and handed him a plastic bag.

“Your clothes dried.”

Tobiasz said his goodbyes and exited into the night. Heart racing, he shoved the camera into his pocket and mounted the Beverly as Marko appeared with his helmet.

“You forgot this,” he said.

Tobiasz took it and put it on his head.


“Why what?” Marko asked, turning.

“Why…why would you aid my perversity?”

“You like to watch.” Marko strode back to him. “I like to be watched.”

Tobiasz couldn’t respond.

“It works out for us,” the man added. “Get a new cam, and I’ll place it,”

“Does…does Krzysiu know?”

Marko’s eyes widened. “He’d never understand.”

Tobiasz took a breath.

“I won’t be watching you and him again,”

“Suit yourself,” said Marko. “Let me know if you want to continue without him,”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a spare key to my flat under the mailbox by my front door.” Marko grinned, hands in his pockets. “Krzysiu isn’t my only lover. Set up as many cameras as you like in my bedroom.”

“Does…does he know that?”

“He’ll find out eventually,” the muscular blond shrugged. “If he does, I’ll be free. We can cruise for some boys you like. I’ll take them home, and you can watch.”

Shame burned his neck. “I don’t think so,”

“I hope you change your mind,” Marko said, walking away. “If you’re watching live, I’ll ask them to call me Tobi,”

Tobiasz contained his composure on the ride home as certain things he’d seen suddenly made sense; the way Marko would pose Krzysiek lewdly at the end of the bed, how quiet he stayed during the sex, and how he’d kept himself conveniently out of view.

Marko must’ve found the camera weeks ago.

If he revealed Marko’s straying, the man would tell Krzysiek about the camera—no, he gave the unit back and couldn’t out Tobiasz with it. The moral scale struggled to balance with the promise of lovers saying his name.

At his desk, Tobiasz eagerly listed the best cameras before crumbling the paper up in disgust. He tore another piece from the notepad and hastily scribbled a confession to Krzysiek. Reading it through, he ripped the declaration in half and remade a camera list.

Thank you for reading.

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