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Catechism	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1064 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 1-Sealed With a Kiss
- 2-Voulez Vous Coucher Avec Moi Ce Soir?
- 1
- 2
“So, when did you know?” Tom asked through a mouthful of pizza. With several beers under his belt and a stomach full of food, it hadn’t taken him long to feel relaxed around the man who had thrown his life into turmoil. There were still many unanswered questions, and the most burning of those was when Booker knew he was bisexual.
It was the question Dennis most dreaded answering. Was it the exhilarating moment his classmate’s lips touched his cock? Or was it after he’d ejaculated, when a warm, post-climactic afterglow had tingled through his sated body? In the seven years since his coming out, it was a question he had asked himself many times. But he had come to the conclusion it was almost impossible to define the exact moment he had felt an attraction to boys as well as girls. So, rather than relive the painful and somewhat humiliating story of his first homosexual encounter, he gave Tom a generic answer. “I think I always knew.”
Tom paused mid-bite, the two lines between his brows deepening. Once again, he wondered why he had only developed feelings for the opposite sex at the age of twenty-four, and why did those feelings only apply to Booker? It was illogical, and he began to wonder if he was going through some sort of emotional crisis. But truth be told, he had never felt happier. He had a job he adored, friends he loved, and apart from a few issues with his mother, life was good. So why, all of a sudden, did he feel the need to disrupt his safe, peaceful life by falling in love with…
Whoa! His mind ground to an abrupt halt, the metaphoric squeal of brakes resonating inside his head. Love? Was he in love with Booker? Had he always been in love with Booker? Was their union predestined, or, without realizing it, had he given off subtle signals, encouraging the dark-haired officer through affectionate touches and flirtatious smiles to make the move he was too repressed to make? Was he a prick tease without even knowing he was a prick tease? These and a dozen other questions swirled around in his mind, adding to the confusion of his already addled brain. His life had always been so organized, but since his intimate interlude with another man, he found himself trapped within a whirlwind of emotional chaos, unsure how to proceed, yet wanting to experience the giddy heights of the illicit love now burning inside his soul.
“Tom?”
Tom’s head snapped up, the forgotten slice of pizza still clutched in his hand. “Huh?”
The confused, pained expression on Tom’s face was one Booker recognized all too well. It was a mirror image of his own contorted countenance during his high school years. It had taken him three years to come to terms with the varying shades of his sexuality, three long, torturous years of denial, secrets, and bullying. Then, in his senior year, he’d had an epiphany of sorts, and he came to the conclusion he didn’t give a rat’s ass what others thought of him. But the damage was already done. Three years seemed like a lifetime in high school, and during that time, he had developed a cocky, I don’t give a damn attitude to deflect the pain. It was his security blanket, and even in his twenties, he still gave off the same devil-may-care vibe that irked many of his coworkers. But scratch the surface of his conceited exterior and buried inside was a sensitive, loyal man; a man who would give his life for the one he loved. He was a contradiction, his personality an enigmatic conundrum that many found themselves drawn to but few could handle. He was both a lover and a fighter, self-righteous yet thoughtful, brash and insecure in equal measures. But in the end, none of that mattered. All he wanted was a partner who loved with the same intensity of devotion as he loved, and as he stared into the startled face in front of him, he wondered if that person might be Tom.
Gathering his thoughts, he smiled his slow, devilish smile. “Hey, man, don’t overthink it. Feelings are just that, they’re feelings. You can’t switch ‘em on, and you sure as hell can’t switch ‘em off.”
The simple yet candid advice had a profound effect on Tom. Putting down his pizza, he stared off into space, his lips pursed in thoughtful contemplation as he rubbed a slow hand over his chin. It was true, there was no scientific evidence to explain the sexual attraction he felt, and he accepted that fact. But what he didn’t understand was why he was feeling those desires for Booker. Up until that fateful day, they had never had what one would describe as a close relationship, in fact, they weren’t even friends, they were just two people who worked together. It wasn’t that he disliked Booker per se, it was more that he didn’t trust him. During their first assignment, he had accused the dark-haired officer of racism and rape, but as it turned out, he was wrong on both counts. Judy Hoffs had set him straight, jumping to the dark-haired officer’s defense, having spent the evening with him, thereby giving him an alibi. Though he had hated to admit it, at the time, even that piece of information had pissed Tom off, and he’d had a few choice words to say to Hoffs about her choice of date. But with his new-found interest in Booker, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d directed his jealousy at the wrong person. Maybe it wasn’t Judy he felt a possessive desire to protect, but Booker, and if so, that would fit with his repressed homosexual feelings theory. But if not, then he was no further forward in working out what the hell was going on in his mind. He prided himself on his analytical thinking, but the unexpected intensity of his desires had him messed up. No matter which way he looked at it, none of it made sense. In fact, it made even less sense the more he thought about it, and that made him crazy.
Aware of Booker’s watchful gaze, he managed a small smile. “I s’pose. It’s just… Jesus, does it ever get any clearer in your head?”
“No,” Booker replied with a laugh, his dark, attractive eyes sparkling with mischief. “But there comes a time when you just don’t care. You are what you are, Hanson, and how you choose to live your life is up to you. No harm, no foul, right?”
“Right,” Tom replied, an absent smile twitching the corner of his lips. Everything Booker said was true, but what he did with that information was up to him.
Wiping the crumbs from his lap, he stood up. “I should go.”
Disappointment flashed in Booker’s eyes, and rising to his feet, he tossed his pizza crust into the empty box on the coffee table. “It’s early, stay a while.”
The beseeching hitch in the dark-haired officer’s voice sent a jolt of arousal down Tom’s spine, and he took a moment to contemplate before answering. It was a simple situation, and he figured he had two choices. He could stay, have another drink (or two) and risk falling into bed with Booker. Or, he could play it safe, go home and wank off while wishing he’d stayed, had another drink and fallen into bed with Booker. But despite the clanging of alarm bells ringing in his head, the answer was a no-brainer. While his job gave him the adrenaline rush most people spent a lifetime searching for, he wanted more, and spending time with the man who had somehow managed to infect his heart seemed like the perfect place to start.
Picking up his empty beer bottle, he handed it to Booker, a relaxed smile gracing his lips. “Sure, why not?”
**
Three hours later
Tom flopped back against the couch cushions. “This time… I really should... go,” he yawned, his eyelids drooping from a mixture of fatigue and too much alcohol. “We’ve got work t’morrow.”
The corners of Booker’s mouth curled into an amused grin and rising to his feet, he carried the empty pizza box into the kitchenette. “You’re in no state to drive… again. I’ll call you a cab.”
“Or I could stay.”
The four innocent words tumbled unchecked from between Tom’s lips. But when he saw the shocked expression on Booker’s face, he immediately wished he could take them back. For the second time in twenty-four hours, alcohol had impaired his decision making, and without meaning to, he had made a fool of himself yet again. He seemed to be making a habit of it whenever he was around the dark-haired officer, and he wondered if it was just nerves, or if he was morphing into a total jackass. It was a fifty-fifty toss up, but with his mind leaning toward the jackass theory, he ducked his head and wished with all his might that the floor would open up and swallow him whole, so he would not have to deal with the rejection he knew was coming.
Booker stood in the kitchen, the empty box still clutched in his hand. Tom’s words had the power to change everything, and if he had been the rakish sonofabitch he pretended to be, he would have taken him up on his offer. But he didn’t want his friend having regrets because he’d made a drunken decision at eleven o’clock at night, and so, even though his body screamed yes, yes, yes, it didn't take long for his conscience to win the tug of war. “Okay, you can stay, but you have to sleep on the couch.”
Surprise arched Tom’s eyebrow, but he remained silent, his heart grateful for the compromise that spared him any further embarrassment. “Couch is good,” he muttered, and picking up the empty beer bottles, he busied himself so he wouldn’t have to look at Booker’s bewildered face.
**
The following morning
An annoying buzz, buzz, buzz, jolted Booker from a deep sleep, and with a groan, he rolled over and slammed his hand down on top of his digital clock, silencing the alarm. Forcing open his sleep-blurred eyes, he exhaled a weary sigh. It had taken hours of restless tossing and turning before the alcohol flowing through his system had done its job and he had drifted off to sleep, the tantalizing knowledge Tom was lying only a few feet away, accessible yet off limits, haunting his troubled dreams. While he stood by his decision not to take the young officer into his bed, he had agonized over why he was acting so protective. Given the amount he’d had to drink, he was certain, under different circumstances, he would have fallen into the arms of any other willing partner without a second thought. But Tom was different. Without seeming to know it, the young officer gave off a strange air of vulnerability, and while Booker knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, there was a deep-rooted sensitivity hidden just beneath the surface of his competent exterior. It was an endearing quality, and one of the many aspects of Tom’s personality Booker found irresistible. He had spent many a long evening imagining his lips trailing a line of tender kisses over the young officer’s naked torso. Not that he would ever admit it, he was far too masculine to reveal his softer side, at least until he was sure Hanson wouldn’t laugh at him for being such a romantic fool. That was his secret shame, and there were few people who could say, with any degree of honesty, they knew his true, uncensored self, not even his parents. But he had a feeling his relationship with Tom would be different, if, of course, it ever evolved into the full-blown love affair he had dreamed about since their first, fateful meeting.
With thoughts of Tom once again occupying his mind, he pushed down his boxers and caressed his semi-hard cock, the light, feathery strokes sending ripples of arousal through his lengthening shaft. Closing his eyes, he envisioned Tom’s long fingers touching him, teasing him toward orgasm, and an excited moan escaped his lips. One day he hoped to experience the real thing, but for now, he had to make do with his imagination. His hand moved faster, twisting and tugging over his erection, the variance of motion heightening his pleasure, while the uneven pressure of his skilled hand drew him closer to his release. Scattered visions of Tom’s face raced through his mind, the images of the young officer, head thrown back, lips parted in carnal delight, pushing him ever closer to his goal. The rhythm of his breathing changed, hitching loudly in his throat, and with each, tender stroke, he could feel the crest of the erotic wave rising to a dizzying height. With one, final, titillating tug, he reached his peak, and a surge of emotion crashed through his body, splattering warm semen over his stomach.
Ragged pants echoed throughout the room, the force of his ejaculation sending ripples of pleasure up and down the length of Booker’s spine. But as the post-climactic afterglow waned from his body, a discernable chill took its place. The magical effect Tom had on him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, but the nagging voice inside his head whispered a different story. It told him he was stupid to get involved with someone who wasn’t sure of their sexuality, and in his heart, he knew he was setting himself up for a fall. But he pushed the unwanted thought from his mind and concentrated on the last of the satisfying sensations tingling through his limbs. Life was all about taking risks, and even if his and Tom’s relationship was doomed from the start, he knew whatever heartache he endured would be worth it.

To be continued…
- 1
- 2
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Catechism