Being a reformed slut isn't all fun and games. Neither is being all alone. Read, review, rate and feel my love! :P
I’m no longer Gabe “Slutporta”. Not anymore. I’m just Gabe, the tanned kid with a face that can steer him anywhere he wants to be and with a dick to match. Apart from that came out of play around the same time my nickname did. Because I’m really not a slut; I’ve reformed, turned into what could be considered a saint. Well, compared to the sinner I was before.
And Mikey’s no longer “Mary” either. He’s my Baby Boy instead, a name that fits him because he’s my boy to take care of and twenty times cuter than any baby I’ve ever seen. No shitty diapers to deal with either. Just pure, unadulterated cuteness. Maybe less of the pure, though. That’s another reason why he’s ditched his old name; he’s about as much of a virgin as my mom is. Unless, of course, I am actually Jesus.
And there’s one reason that both of these things have changed; a park bench on a gloomy Saturday morning in Belleville. The place where I pledged to settle down with one boy for as long as he wants me and the place where Mikey lost his v-plates. Granted, it wasn’t the classiest of places for me to teach my baby boyfriend how to truly live, but it was the perfect timing. He was scared of being alone so I showed him that I’ll never let that happen to him. The cute little thing was exhausted afterwards; I might have gotten a little carried away with the secretly sexy little sinner, so I gave him a piggy-back to my apartment where we just snuggled in bed all day. I’d never done something like that with any of the others; if I’d worn anyone else out on that park bench the odds are that I would have just left them there, panting and boxer-less with sweat pooling in ever stark crease of creamy skin.
Not Mikey though, not the kid that I’ve been protecting ever since I met him. No, I helped him put his clothes back on and got him back to my place, just content to watch him sleep with a proper smile on his face for once. Then I too dozed off, pleased with myself because I’d made everything alright for him with my solution to everything; my dick.
Apart from it wasn’t a permanent solution, just one to make him feel better at the time. Months have flown by since the first time I made Mikey Way my own, marked my territory in a way that made aforementioned territory beg to be mine. In that time we started dating, him agreeing to be my boyfriend the split second he woke up from our first time together, and in that time Mikey’s confidence has grown more than it ever did when I was simply the older best friend doubling as his protector. It’s almost like he was never shy at all when he’s around me. Around other people, though, he’s still as introverted as ever.
Pete Wentz, for example. One of the few boyfriends I’ve ever had to last half as long as my time so far with my baby boy and my only fuck to actually stay friends with me once we’re done, insisted on meeting the kid who had finally managed to tame the infamous free man-whore of Belleville High. Pete’s a nice guy, even cockier than I am, but a great friend nonetheless and as gentle as a butterfly. So he should get on great with Mikes, right? Well, yeah, they did in the end. Once I finally managed to convince Mikey that Pete didn’t mean it when he referred to him as my “latest trend” and that he was only teasing (in a friendly way) when he called Mikey, Boyfriend Number One Million And Two. Mikey doesn’t like it when people wave him off as just another ass for me to ride and be disposed of the second I see someone better.
He doesn’t like it because he’s scared, deep down in the part of him that only I know how to get to, that it’s true. Something that makes me regret all of those sleazy one-night-stands and tumbles in restaurant dumpers that I swore I’d never think of as anything less than amazing. Hell, seeing the beseeching look in his eyes every time that he says those three little words begging me to say it too makes me want to take back even the time I did the new physics teacher in the broom closet and then used it to blackmail him into passing all of my tests.
That’s why I’m currently waiting inside my cosy little apartment, one that is just as much Mikey’s as it is mine, stood by the door with a huge bunch of forget-me-nots in my hand. They’re his favourite flowers; says that he sees himself in them with the way that they’re so forgettable and willing to be forgotten in their fragility. So I bought the biggest bunch I could afford as an eighteen-year-old record store clerk to remind him how much he means to me. Why today, you might be thinking; today because it’s his first day of going to school without me there by his side to keep him company.
To keep him safe.
Fuck, I could barely keep him safe when I was there with him, so how’s my poor baby meant to manage all on his lonesome?
A rushed machine-gun fire of knocks drills into the door and I immediately swing it open with my spare hand, eyes hungry to see my baby.
To reveal a sight I had hoped with all of my black little heart that I wouldn’t see; my boyfriend looking up at me with traumatised eyes, a small line of blood dribbling a stream of rose petals down his snow-white face. The worst part is that I know I’m at least a little bit to blame for my fragile little baby being hurt because I used to just not be able to keep it in my pants. It’s a habit that has earned me many enemies, usually ones looking for revenge over the fact that I stole their partners. So it only makes sense for them to wreck mine.
Apart from it doesn’t, not really; Mikey’s too sweet to ever do any damage to anyone. Not to mention too innocent as well without my influence around as a source of corruption for him to actually be capable of doing something to make him deserve this sort of treatment.
“Oh, Baby Boy…” I sigh, every ounce of the tonne of sorrow that his condition is causing me weighing down my words. “My Baby Boy, c’mere.”
I open up my arms to him, dropping his flowers to the floor, and he instantly latches onto me, kicking the door shut behind his lanky self. I scoop him up bridal-style, except for on Mikey it’s more like new-born-baby-style, and carry his skinny form effortlessly into the bedroom where I lay him down on the cloud-soft double bed. I flop down next to him, laying on my side so that we’re face to face, and pull him in close to me so that we’re snuggling. My heart bites into my lungs as I feel him shudder against me, loud sobs starting to ravage his precious little body. The precious little body that should only ever be ravaged by one thing; my dick. Not by the misery that some bastards have smashed into his face for no justifiable reason.
It makes me sick.
“What happened, Baby Boy?” I ask, using that special tone that only ever Mikey gets to hear because it contradicts the rest of my image entirely. I feel him shake his head against me, grabbing onto me like a little kid with a safety blankie in a storm. “C’mon, Baby, I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me how they broke it. Besides,” I run a hand up the inside of his leg, right up to the too-tight fabric perfectly holding my favourite physical part of my boyfriend. “I’ll make it worth your while, Baby Boy.”
It’s a dirty tactic, I know, but that’s okay; I’m a dirty boy. Turns out Mikey is too, much dirtier than I thought he was a few months ago. That’s not the point though. I’m using his way of feeling good about himself as blackmail, something that I’m normally extremely adverse to. Today it’s alright though because I’m doing it for his own good; I do have to know what happened if I want to be able to make it all good again for my angelic little sinner. I want him to be happy more than I want his pants to be flung across the other side of my bedroom like they always end up being, a feeling that’s never come with anyone other than Mikey before. Normally with the others it’s screw first and talk later, if at all.
But Mikey Way’s worth so much more than that. Because he’s not just a fuck; he’s my boyfriend. My best friend. My everything.
See? I’m a hopeless romantic. Not a slut.
“I just want ‘em to like me, Gabanti.” He mutters, head hidden in my chest and body adopting the foetal position in my arms. “I don’t even know what I did!”
“Shush, there, Baby Boy. Shush.” I press my lips against his to cork in the sobs that I can’t stand to hear, keeping the kiss in place until I feel him relax against me, melting into my embrace and a small smile starting to dare to show itself on his face, letting me know that I’m doing my job right. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing at all, Baby Boy. They’re just too blind to see how special you are.”
I nuzzle into him, our legs intertwining on top of the covers and his tears slowly drooling to a stop.
“Love you, Gabanti.” He murmurs cutely, making my heart melt. “Teach me how to be cool again?”
“Anytime, Baby Boy. And that’s Mr Gabanti to you.”
A/N: So here’s the second part, sorry for it being even suckier than the first. This is fast becoming my OTP, so I hope that I did it at least a little bit of justice. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! :)