[cw: minimally-descriptive discussion of csa/sexual harrassment]

*

"Jules!! Great to see you man, wow I feel like I haven't seen you in--" A year, yes. Because we haven't. "I wish we could've hung out a little more... I heard you n' Nate were able to see each other some, though. That's good!" Yeah, yeah. I asked Jeff if he'd hung with Nate much, and he said "a little". Just a little. Better than what I'd been dreading. --Ugh, I mean, I know it shouldn't matter. It's so silly; this isn't high school or anything. I just know how Nate is after he hangs with Jeff and I know I don't like it. That's all (UGH and why should THAT matter to me anymore... well, I do already have to worry about how he is after being around Walt too much). "--And what happened to your hair?? Aww, the old locks were rockin'!" UGH, he still sometimes sounds like an old teacher trying to sound "hip" with the "kids" or something (he's younger than me!). And yes, I did cut my hair again. Into quite a boring mullet. A compromise between people like Walt (and Jeff) who'd rather I look a certain way, and between looking hopefully so nondescript from behind that I'm recognized a fair bit less (but have I let the nose piercing close? No...). I used to LOVE looking so "myself", but everything with that one woman last year has made even that far more complicated than I'd like. If they recognize me then I’m Jules Riley, and that can either be a relief or the end of my professional life, and I'll never be able to tell which until they open their mouths and speak. And if they don’t recognize me, I’m still a faggot, and that means something worse and worse again. The looks have a hostility or a disgust to them at a frequency I haven't seen in awhile.

You want to be brave, but life keeps happening while you're trying to recover from the last thing.

Anyway-- Jeff and I did all our small talk, I mentioned my "girlfriend", his eyes lit up and he talked about planning a double date with him and Teri, I agreed that it would be nice to think about, knew in my head I'd never actually spring that on Shann. We already had to do a silly photoshoot together[48]; I don't want to bother her with all the absurdities of my job more than is necessary. Especially since we're getting along decently right now, all considered. Helps that I've proven to be a loyal customer (and the pills have admittedly been helping with work, which has been nice. And it's not like I'm popping 'em like candy or snorting lines of anything like every other "rock star" is).

Of course Jeff had a couple songs of his own already written up-- both ballads, both a little syrupy (one obviously about Teri, the other lyric-less for the time being), but admittedly also beautiful in their own way. If Jeff wants to try and psychoanalyze me this time around I think I'm just gonna ask him why everything's always gotta be about Teri... especially when it's clear that kind of romantic feeling's a one-way street (They get along well enough together when I'm around, but I've never seen her actually listen to any of the songs Jeff's written for her and I can't see her actually liking them). A little forced, don'tcha think? --He hasn't tried to psychoanalyze me yet, though. So just something for my back pocket.

I have seen Nate. I mean, I HAVE to. And it's been... fine? I only do the bare minimum around him. I don't want him to do anything stupid to me again. He hasn't been overly friendly like Jeff, at least. In fact, he seems about as stand-offish around me as I am around him, and he's NEVER good at pretending anything about himself, so of course Jeff saw the pout on his face and asked about it. "S'Nothin', man, I'm just tired."-- He said that to Jeff but I felt his eyes on me as he said it. I didn't look back at him. And that's what he's going to have to learn to live with if he doesn't want to make himself look like an idiot.

PS: Of course Nate was wearing overalls and sneakers with seemingly nothing else, as if he could pull off hick-boy with any sort of convincing air. Obnoxious.

*

Benny's been around a whole lot more since he's such a big part of road logistical planning, now. Another good part about his promotion, even if it makes him busy enough that he's not always around to talk to despite being here. At least I can actually call him on the phone!

So I had a very honest conversation with him (thankfully in person)-- even more honest than the last big honest conversation we had. Still an odd feeling, and I still feel so exhausted afterwards, even though I know it was a good thing. Things firstly related to Kyle and my general loneliness and frustrations-- I did stress to him that I didn't want him to do anything he'd be uncomfortable with, but I did admit that being able to top Kyle was a big part of the whole affair. That I knew he (as in Benny) loved and respected me and I could always feel that very easily during sex, but that I sometimes felt boxed into bottoming, and it was something that was really starting to feel like a “box” lately, even with him. He pointed out that I never told him that, which was very fair. I told him I just thought he'd never be into being topped, at least not by me, and he raised an eyebrow, said that I was assuming a lot about him and I apologized because, well, he was right.

He told me that a lot of guys in the past had used him purely because they wanted a particular sort of rough dominant top, and saw him as such purely because of his race, his size-- similar to how some guys in the crew immediately respond to him with fear or resentment[49]. These were things I had guessed (or he'd alluded to) already, but it was still good to hear them clearly from him. He'd gotten used to it in a way, and went along with it when he felt there was no other option or when he felt particularly down on himself-- believing that that's all people would ever see or want him for-- but never felt good about it. "That time early on, when you asked me to just lay on the bed and let you make me feel good? That's when I knew I could really trust you. That you were for real.", he said.

Thinking about that-- how he'd had to put up and shut up about sex before, how he felt used in the past, stuck in a role that made him feel terrible-- made me realize that we were even more alike than I'd believed. I can be so uncharitable, so skeptical of people. All of it, tho, made me feel ready to tell him a little about my time with Lorenzo (part of me wanted to tell him more than that, wanted to tell him EVERYTHING, but the rest of me remembered that he called me "fucked up" just from seeing my old scars. Amazing but fucked up, he said, but it's the "fucked up" that I can hear perfectly still, can still feel like a little knife in the heart). I told him that I don't know exactly how it feels to be in his situation, but that I related to it quite a bit because sex was something I had to do for cash more often than I would have liked (even once is more often than I would have liked, but of course it was more than once) in my early twenties. That I was poor, had dropped out of college, was addicted to ups, and had trusted exactly the wrong person to help me out; someone I ended up being trapped working for and living with for three years. So, I said, it was hard for me to trust, too. To believe when things are for real.

I'm not sure exactly what made Ben be in such an open mood-- he's not the sort to talk much about his past either, and the little he told me was painful enough for me to understand why-- but it was like a dam bursting for him. He told me that he was eight years old the first time a grown white woman came onto him. He had no idea what was really happening, because how could he have? But he already knew he couldn't do anything about it, because he'd be blamed for what happened to him, or people wouldn't understand it-- shouldn't a boy want to be treated like that by an attractive woman? it should be a dream come true!, and so forth. Things like that happened increasingly as he entered adolescence. The white women were joined by white men, and all wanted the same things from him. One of the times he refused, the woman put on a big crying show to nearly get him arrested. He was never good, either. From day one. "You can't be black and be good, Julie."-- and I fucking hate how he's right about that, at least in this country. He was always afraid of-- and is still afraid of-- our love being turned into its own freak-show object, and the sheer thought of it makes his anger boil up close to the surface, an anger he could never let show, with far worse consequences if it does than it ever would for me. He also said that I'd never understand or see him the way other black men could, but he could always tell that I was trying, that I respected him, and that I did understand him in other, different ways that he deeply appreciated.

"It's not like I like all this being vulnerable shit. But I think love and all that just IS. I don't think there's no way around that. But you got me believing in dumb shit, now, baby. It makes me wanna try. But you gotta try for me too, then." I said I would, and I truly meant it, which meant I also admitted the idea terrified me. Telling people things meant getting hurt more. Almost always. He took my hand. Told me he got it. That he still had me.

Things still got way too deep to have sex, but this time I felt a lot less guilty about that. At the end of the evening we held each other in his bed, kissed each other, I sang him Harf, and he fell asleep like a stone in my arms. Then I kissed him as softly as I could, untangled myself from him as careful as I could, got up, and wrote this. I'll try to sleep again, now. Too much was on my mind before. Aftershocks of memories-- even just mentioning Lorenzo out loud can fuck with me sometimes. It's silly, because I obviously KNOW it all happened, but saying it out loud, or even just his name and a few other things out loud, is just this further confirmation that it was real. It makes me remember it all at once-- what he did to me, what I had to do for him, what I did for myself. It makes me feel I can never really be good again, not after that. It makes me remember Walt telling me "I know what you are" when everything with Shann was forced to happen. He likely doesn't actually know what I used to have to do to survive, but it stung as if he did, and I can only hope I didn't let it show on my face too much.

I always worry how much less people would think of me if they knew what I had to do back then; always worry it shows through anyway, that I'll always just be tainted by it. Ben only knows the bare surface facts of it all, but he hasn't treated me any lesser through knowing it, at least not so far. And he already knows more than Ricky, now, and he's far less bothered by this, if he's bothered at all, than he was bothered by my scars... --There's that small thing curled up in a warm burrow feeling, again... ahhh, I said I'd go to sleep! I think I can now, anyway. That last thought made me want to hold him very much.

PS: Thankfully Benny either likes my hair or doesn't mind it. It was a bit of an impulsive decision... but out of all the impulsive decisions I could make, a haircut would probably be the most relieving one Benny could think of.

*

Jeff and Nate are doing some writing together as well this time around, and I'm not sure how much I like that. And if Jeff's songs were his typical sweeping ballads, Nate's are as chuggy and riffy as ever. ~Heavy~. Like what, you really think JEFF could do heavy with you better? Ugh, I guess the thing I did with Kyle was still a cheery, major key little bop, wasn't it. But what has Jeff done besides serenade his poor wife? We're still not really in the recording phase yet, and only one of Nate and Jeff's songs has a mostly-complete vocal melody and lyric, but I guess all my annoyances bubbled out of me at once today, through my voice. I already started out loud but Nate started playing louder, I sang even louder, he played louder, all in a cycle, until I understood what "shred" really meant. Jeff had stopped playing his part at one point and was just looking over at us (alongside Sam and Rory) in some annoying shocked stupor, before nodding slowly and telling me that vocal was "great", and "D'you think you could do that again in the studio?". Nate had left before Jeff could force any sort of feedback from him. "Still kind of a sulky guy, isn't he?" That question was directed at me, but Rory answered it by calling Nate a "kid on stilts-- and even then, they're pretty short stilts". Apt!

Anyway. Things were a lot nicer and calmer today, even with all that ridiculousness, so Ben and I were able to have sex later, and I topped him. I took things slow, a lot like the more romantic times I ride him. I was still a little unsure of how to go about things at first, nervous I'd do something he wouldn't like or would find uncomfortable, or that I'd just look stupid, or that I really would be too short, but we made it work and then some! We did have to experiment a bit with positions but it didn't kill the mood. And I got quite sure of things once I was fingering him (and licking n' biting his tits)-- the way he held and pulled one of his thighs further up n' outward (that big hand gripping that strong leg, fingers digging into skin), leaned his head back, ran his other hand over his face, moaned quietly.... ugh he was so sexy in such a new way. It made me so eager to eat him out, to sink my own fingers into those thighs of his, so excited to finally feel the inside of him. He felt so damn good, and it felt so damn good to feel his body-- to feel ALL of it, to be as close to him as possible, to be a part of him, a part of him that could please him so well-- and it felt so damn good to hear him encourage me, to hear him say "you're doin' so fuckin' good, baby" with a gorgeous smile, his voice wavering a little despite his best efforts... that particular detail made me lose it, UGH; I wanted to make him feel so good and so much that that was all he wanted or cared about. And the way he came, G-D. I could tell even in the moment, while I was so close myself, that I hadn't just fulfilled something missing for myself but something he'd been missing, too. And the aftermath, kissing and stroking and holding each other, so full of passion and love in a way I don't think I could ever take for granted again.

The dynamic was so different; most of the time when he tops me, even at our most romantic, there's a lot of physical teasing and edging and dirty talk because that's what I like from him and in general and we both enjoy it (riding him, I can get into a more queen-ish mode, but still not exactly dominant in a traditional sense). For this, though, I was so swept up in how perfect he is that I still wasn't "dominant" by any means. As earnest as I can get when I'm swept up in song. And even more, I do know that he can be self-conscious about his size. I remember early on when he told me he didn't understand why I was so sweet on him, and he's always cracked jokes about being fat, or about his belly hanging over his belt[50], or about how un-perky his ass is (the muscle is apparent underneath the fat, but even if it wasn't, I wouldn't give a damn). Every time I ride him and now that I've topped him, I want to do it like I'm worshipping his body. I want him to feel, with every part of himself, that he's beautiful. That he's so much more than what white people see him as (in parts, parts they hate, covet, can use-- so awfully familiar), that every bit of him is good, the whole of him is amazing. If I'm his bratty princess-boy or his queen, he's my big darling handsome prince. I hope he gets it someday, and doesn't just see it as me just being nice to him. I hope this was another step towards that. (And if he DOES want it rougher, I hope he tells me; I definitely don't want to assume too much again)

Couldn't stay the night this time, even though I dearly wanted to-- I'd already told Shann I'd be back the day of, and I needed a refill anyhow. She knows about me, now, but not about Ben. I don't want to have to tell her everything. Even with Lou around. I don't want to put Ben in any kind of danger.

*

[48]A Lou idea-- he said if Walter was really that worried about a lack of a domestic image for me that was easy enough to "rectify". And Shann got to smack a hand of rose jelly (that she'd helped me jar a month back) across my mouth/nose-- a lot harder than the joke the photographer had come up with-- so she still got something out of it.

[49]I’ve had to teach many of them about issues of race in the process of helping Benny (and I've learned more myself in that process), and the fact that I was trusted with that was such a reminder of how much he trusts me, even beyond what he said to me when we talked that night… even thinking about it now is filling my heart again.

[50]Which I think is extremely erotic, especially when it pokes out from under his shirt MMM I always want to kneel down and kiss it; I love playing with him like that before/while blowing him.