In This Cruel World

By Jaden Lane

Born months apart to lifelong friends, growing up Benji Hartkainen and Duncan McKerracher developed an inseparable bond as strong as any brotherhood from spending so much life together. Understanding and accepting that he was different early in his teens, Duncan has a clear picture of what he wants and needs from life: Benji. For Benji, however,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aspire Publishing Hub, LLC
• Release date: May 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9781964393155

Book preview

9781964393155-cover.jpg

an IN THE SHADOWS OF OUR LIVES novel

JADEN LANE

In This Cruel World

Copyright © 2024 by Jaden Lane

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN

978-1-964393-14-8 (Paperback)

978-1-964393-15-5 (eBook)

978-1-964393-13-1 (Hardcover)

This book is dedicated to Mark. Thank you for your love and encouragement. I love you to the moon and back!

1

I’ve always known that I am different from the other guys, in that I am secretly turned on by them. At first there was denial. Eventually as puberty came on it became more obvious to me as all my erotic thoughts involved other guys, and only guys. It wasn’t even sexual at first. It could just be the way one guy looks in his clothes, or how another looks so frail and vulnerable and yummy after falling on the ice when I play hockey. I’ve thought about it, but never stressed myself out over it.

When I first heard about homosexuality, I stored the term away in my head and quietly undertook it upon myself to figure out just what it means. I was already quite aware of my inner thoughts and their possible meanings for so long. Thus, when I investigated homosexuality, I reluctantly accepted that it indeed includes me. Yet having this knowledge is one thing. Knowing what to do with it is quite another.

My best friend in the whole world is Benji. Benjamin Hannu Hartkainen to be specific. He goes by Ben, but I’ve always gotten away with calling him Benji. Benji is your typical jock stud, but with brains too, where I feel I am your typical awkward teen that seemingly just goes with the flow. He is an inch over six feet and a nicely built one hundred eighty-five pounds where I am the same height and hover around five pounds lighter. His short dark brown hair, sometimes with blonde tips, is styled just like my short jet-black hair; messy and pushed forward with the front spiked up. A Caesar, if you will. I have to admit that his hair is mostly always natural while I’ve either dyed or bleached mine for years.

Unlike his pale Finnish parents and brother, Benji has a natural darker tanned skin. I wouldn’t say even as dark as olive, but just naturally a bit tanner than the average Scandinavian. Taking after my Finnish mother I am embarrassingly pale and taking after my Scottish father I am covered with freckles. Benji has light brown eyes, and he has three freckles on his face. Yes, exactly three, two under his left eye and one just above his lip. I have blue eyes and my light showing of freckles sit mostly beneath my eyes and on my cheeks, which explode all over my forehead, neck, shoulders and arms too when I spend time in the sun.

I consider us to both be straight acting, although as I’ve grown older the two things that betray this are my desire for public affection and my rainbow tattoo. By public affection I don’t mean making out or even a peck or hug, it’s more of a mental reassurance than a physical one that I seek; like a hand on my back momentarily to let me know that I’m special to someone. That sort of public affection; I think this is a realistic expectation. As for my tattoo, it’s a tribal sun; rather pedestrian, only the sun rays are coloured as if a rainbow flag were superimposed on them.

Benji is totally straight sounding, you’d never guess him to be gay by just talking with him. Myself, while I certainly don’t sound flaming, I begrudgingly admit that you may guess by my voice that I live somewhere in the rainbow kingdom.

Below the belt we are near equals, and I assume that we are both moderately above average. Printed boxers are my thing, while he prefers thongs and sports briefs that I steal from him all too often. We both play hockey, soccer and baseball, and have since we were little kids. We jog together and work-out at the gym together all the time, and we both used to swim competitively. After switching to water-polo for a couple years with me Benji gave up the water. I still play competitive water-polo at university level.

His looks melt hearts; however, I too get my share of praise! By day we are both kinda preppy/GQ/jockish in style if you can picture that; khakis are as casual as we normally go, but we certainly wear jeans if it fits the outfit. By night we share a leather and vinyl fetish, I guess. Perhaps more accurately, we like dressing up a little ‘mod’ mixed with ‘goth’ and sneaking out to Velvet Underground where we can dance to industrial music and electronica until the sun comes up without our regular friends knowing.

I lust for Benji now like I did years ago, probably more; he is so kind and caring to me, as I am to him. Above all to me his strongest characteristics have been his kindheartedness and his level of maturity. Of course, he lets loose too, but he has always just been levels above other people I know in his actions towards me.

Growing up in today’s society makes being gay easier than in the past, I guess. Sure, kids can always be nasty, but I say this because while I know behind my back, I have always been labeled a fag, no one at school ever really made an issue of it to me. Only once in fact, and it was both harmless and short lived. I’m just Duncan, plain and simple. Duncan Jussi McKerracher. Duncan after a small city nearby, and Jussi after my maternal grandfather.

I’m nineteen now, and in university. In one way or another I have been in love, true love, with the same guy for at least ten years. Yes, while Benji has been my best friend as far back as I can remember, I have also wanted him as my boyfriend for so very long now. I wish I could remember all the words that we’ve exchanged, cute or sweet things said, but I only can write this based on the experiences and emotions that I remember from the beginning, leading up to fully remembered moments near the end.

Where it began for us was in bed. You see, despite both coming from happy nuclear families Benji has always been there for me; like a brother, like a best friend, whatever. And I have always been there for him. Like my five-year older brother and Benji’s younger brother, like most boys, sleepovers seemed a very common and important part of defining ourselves as we reached our teens. Like some show of independence.

However, things got really confusing as Benji and I grew and reached puberty. Naturally it was acceptable for boys to share a bed at each other’s house, but as we grew through and beyond puberty we continued to, up to and including sharing sleeping bags when camping. I really think my unconditional love for him started then, in a shared sleeping bag on a pull-out bed.

This is my memory of how things played out for us.

It’s Friday December 11th 1998, one day after Benji’s fifteenth birthday. We are heading to his families’ cottage in Fraser Valley for the weekend. The snow started off light and has betrayed the forecast and is falling fast, already accumulating higher than predicted for the entire weekend. Traffic is bumper to bumper and the line of traffic we are in frequently stops for minutes on end while the RCMP control traffic one way and then the other on narrow passes, and by emergency vehicles.

Man, this drive really is a bitch, my best friend’s brother exclaims.

Mrs. Hart doesn’t stand for this, Kimi Andrew Hartkainen, you watch your mouth young man or I’ll…

You’ll what, Mom? You’re up there; I’m back here. You can’t reach me, and Dad can’t have you distracting him, Kimi points out.

*Smack*

Smarten up Kimi, Benji chastises his fourteen-year-old brother after smacking him for their mother.

The brothers start to swat at each other until we come to a stop again in traffic. Mr. Hart turns around. In Finnish he swears up a storm at his sons and threatens things to them that their poor mother never needed to hear. Being fluent in our parents’ mother tongue at home we all understand exactly what Mr. Hart says. We get the point just how agitated he is when he takes Benji’s Marilyn Manson CD out of the player and whips it out the window onto a pine tree on the opposite side of the highway.

Before the line of traffic gets moving on the snowy road again Benji crosses the road to retrieve his CD from a branch weighed down by snow. On his mother’s suggestion Benji and I switch seats so that I am sitting between him and Kimi in the back of the Jeep Cherokee, to separate them. This just means I get the occasional jab intended for the other brother.

It normally takes an hour and change to get there, but with the weather and slow roads and highways it’s already taken us almost two hours. We are better than fifty kilometers into the seventy-kilometer (fifty-mile) trek when Mr. Hart, as I call his dad, suggests turning back for real. Benji won’t hear of it though, so we forge on.

By the time we get to the cottage, shovel the drive and get the fires going it’s almost ten o’clock and we are weary. While Benji and I shovel, Mr. Hart keeps Kimi out of our hair and lights the fireplaces. Mrs. Hart makes the quickest dinner she can muster out of the groceries she brought. Dinner consists of Kraft Dinner and microwaved bratwurst. After the presents and a cake that didn’t travel all too well his parents build up the fireplaces for the night and force Kimi to bed. Once both are accomplished Mr. Hart tells us to bundle up and enjoy the night as we’re heading back to the city once the plows are out tomorrow.

Belatedly I call my parents to let them know we made it safely and are heading home sometime tomorrow rather than Sunday. After my call we get brushing our teeth out of the way and I settle down on the pull-out couch with Benji to kick his ass at NHL 98 on his Sega Saturn. Instead of letting us play, his parents make us pause the game so that they can catch the Weather Channel before going to bed. Neither of us are into the game once we resume it, so we instead turn the pullout couch into a bed and set it up before playing a few minutes of Sonic Jam.

When we hear his dad snoring, we figure it’s the perfect opportunity to sneak a beer each, seeing as how his dad won’t be drinking the six pack this weekend after all. One beer each turns into two, and we then dare to finish off the last of the bottles. In our sleeping bags on the pullout bed we talk for a long time, both nursing our last beer because secretly neither of us like beer, but what the hey; it’s the principle of drinking the forbidden beer that we care about anyhow!

Down to my boxers in the open room of the cottage I silently lament that we didn’t think to get one of the two tiny bedrooms. They are always too hot in the summer, but with the fireplaces going they are also too hot in the winter. Right about now that would be fine by me. Instead, I have goose bumps from my waistband up and am trying to snuggle as deep into my sleeping bag as I can while keeping an arm free to hold the beer.

I’m considering putting my jeans back on, even if they are still wet at the bottoms from shoveling, when Benji gets out of his bag and strips down to his boxers. I can’t chicken out now by putting mine back on, so I’ll just have to tough it out. Out of the corner of my eyes I watch Benji strip and hop into his sleeping bag, all the while trying to give the impression that I am affording him privacy while supposedly looking away. Man, I love the look of boxers on him! I’m so glad now that he’s agreed with me that they are way better than the briefs he always wore.

Inside his sleeping bag Benji can’t get comfortable and keeps fighting with the bottom of it. This usually precedes him suggesting that we join our sleeping bags together to make a big bag. In the summer I am all for the idea, especially as we hardly zip them up and sleep uncovered from the waist up. I mean hells ya, that lets me check out his lithe and manly body! Right now, I’d almost protest because I am finally getting warm, however the chance to sleep with Benji is too tempting. He sighs. Here it comes!

Dunc? Wanna put’em together or are we getting too old for that? Your call, he says.

Lets’ do this shit and that way we can throw the spare on top of it, I agree before adding, I’m freezing my nuts off here!

Can’t have that. Too bad Neve isn’t here to keep mine warm for me on my birthday, he kids.

He’s hooked on a current T.V. and movie starlet, even made me see one of her boring movies about a dance club in the seventies twice with him so he could blow his load over her. So of course, I twist this to the male lead actor instead on him, Don’t you mean Ryan?

No, that would be you. Homo, he says, starting a string of insults.

Fag, I counter.

Queer.

Cock sucker.

Fudge packer.

Benji, I say, intending to imply that his name is equitable to gay.

He doesn’t get my burn, Huh?

Never mind, Captain Ass-munch. Hurry up and un-zip your bag, yo! It’s cold, I prompt him.

Often at this point after this usual gay put-down banter, I end up getting quiet. I’m sure Benji always notices the uncharacteristic quietness. My teeth are chattering as Benji zips our matching sleeping bags together and I throw the spare one his family keeps kicking around over top. I bolt under the covers, purposely hitting Benji with my hand and knee as I do, so that we have momentary accidental contact.

Like I mentioned earlier, it’s not uncommon for Benji and I to sleep together at his house or mine, or especially while camping at his cottage. Only it’s changed for me over time. For at least a year to this point wherever we are, when sleeping with Benji I have often built up the nerve to grind with him slightly when I know he is asleep. This has awoken him on a few occasions that I know of, but each time that’s happened I completely backed off.

Benji pleasantly surprises me from time to time when I spoon him in that he even grinds back, although he’s asleep, or pretending to be asleep. Either way, we never say anything about it, which is the giveaway that leads me to suspect that there have also been at least a few times that he only pretended to be asleep in the first place. Every once in a blue moon the grinding has resulted in us jacking ourselves off, as we lay together. We don’t speak during it, and we don’t talk about it, ever.

So even though we are quiet after our trash talking, I feel I can talk with Benji about what’s bothering me. And I will, just not tonight, even though it’s technically not his birthday that I’d be ruining. While the grinding and side by side jacking off are off limits for conversation, we have been starting to talk more openly about embarrassing guy things, and in hesitant ways, about exploring ourselves more lately. I know sure as shit that it won’t be a surprise to him that I like boys.

On this memorable night, settled into the sleeping bag Benji starts rustling under the covers and I figure we’re clear for a jack off session. My hand is barely on my cock when I feel something warm and soft hit my ribcage. Benji is on his side, smiling at me in the darkness. I grab the object from beside me and bring it up and out of the sleeping bag. Before I can focus on what it is Benji grabs it back and face washes me with it. I pick it up and hold it out far enough to make out what it is. When I focus on it, I gasp.

Dunc, I finally did it, Benji says, tugging at my boxers, I discovered how good it feels to sleep free!

This is something new to me and he knows it’s caught me off guard. I must be blushing, although the fireplace I’m sure isn’t bright enough to betray me.

He takes his boxers from my hand and reaches to put them back on, Sorry Dunc. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

Staying him by putting my hand on his shoulder, my voice cracks as I too firmly tell him, "It doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable as long as you’re comfortable sleeping like that with me." I try to say this in such a way as to put emphasis on the ‘with me’, in my mind implying that he knows I love pressing against his body, and that I strangely want him to rub his boxers all over my face some more.

Pish posh. Whatev. I’m cool with it. So, if you’re cool with it, I’m cool with that too, he says, brushing off my remark. He tugs at my boxers and discovers my excitement in the process, You should try it. Lose these. Oops. You got a stiffy!

We occasionally bedtime wrestle, or more realistically I let him dominate me and secretly enjoy the contact for as fleetingly long as possible. We both know I always get delightfully rock-hard from it.

Tonight, he aggressively rolls on top of me and pins me down like usual, minus the wrestling. His unclothed bedtime erection touches me a bunch of times in the process. Then Benji shocks the hell out of me. This time is even more different than usual. This time he purposely sits on my clothed hard-on, grinds it, and gives me the quickest of pecks on the lips. Even though he initiated it, it’s more than I’ve dared hope for beyond my wildest daydreams. He recoils nearly as quickly as I do, but he stays firmly seated on my pulsing hard-on. I am dumbfounded by his actions for the second time in a matter of moments!

Seemingly going for absolute emotional overload on my part, Benji explains, It’s my birthday and the only thing I’ve wanted all day is to let you know that I love you no matter what.

I don’t know what to say so I just lie here with my best friend and sexual infatuation sitting naked on top of me, hoping that it will never end. Of course, all good things must end, and he gets off of me. He slides over to his side of the sleeping bag, fluffs his pillow, and gets comfortable. In silence, he lets me slowly get closer to him until my hand is resting on his pillow and my body is very slightly touching his. I can still feel exactly where the head of his member rested on my belly. It’ll be tattooed in my brain for a good long time for sure.

It seems like forever, but is probably close to only a couple minutes of this silence when he says my name, Duncan? I mean what I said. I have to tell you I don’t like guys. I do know you like me. I don’t care, I’m flattered. It doesn’t scare me. I do love you, just not that way.

I open my mouth to speak. Rather than protest I intend to confess, Benji, you’re

Benji cuts me off. Clutching my arm, he holds it firmly to his chest, Lemme finish Dunc. Sometimes I really wish I did like guys, just for you. Your attention makes me feel special and I wish you could feel the way you make me feel.

What the eff? The words sting worse than anything I can remember. Of all the people in my life he’s not the one that’s supposed to call me out for being gay. He’s supposed to pretend to be unaware until I can figure out how to disappoint him with the truth. I try to pull away with all my strength, and manage to slightly, but there really isn’t anywhere to go in the conjoined sleeping bags. He wiggles over to my side and slips an arm under and around my chest, holding me close until I finally give up rebuffing him. His body is pressed up against mine and he gently kisses me on the nape of my neck. In confusion, in hurt and shame, I am almost paralyzed. I also am shamefully enjoying his somewhat deflated member drooped in the folds of my boxers, pressed between my butt cheek and hamstring.

Whispering into my ear he reassures me, You have always been, and will always be my best friend. I don’t care what anyone thinks about you, or me for associating with you. You do so many nice things for me, and although it maybe should disturb me, I kind of love the contact when you sleep pressed up against me. You make me feel so special when you hold me. All I really want for my birthday is for you to be happy.

Turning me in my catatonic state so that we are fully face to face, he forces another kiss on the lips. Not that I really have to be forced, even after what has just happened! In my adolescent way I want Benji so badly that his acceptance, as much as it shames me, will suffice. I do wonder just what is going on though; Benji never plays cruel jokes on anyone. Is this for real? My mind races as we lie silently together, his body pressed against mine, his arm now around my abs. He keeps moving, trying to get comfortable, which inevitably leads to him getting back a hard-on that pokes upward into my upper butt cheek. Of course, all of this has constantly been producing the same reaction in me!

2

As Benji holds me there is a comfortable silence. I reposition myself so that his groin is pressed into my butt and his erection is nestled into the cleavage of my butt and into the shallow channel that accentuates my spine in the small of my back. My mind is screaming at me to direct it between my thighs instead, but I’m not that bold. I focus on the citrus and pine scent of the polish on the wooden arms of the pull-out couch. Benji grinds himself against me a little and slides a hand down to my still hard cock.

He wiggles my handful and chuckles very quietly, You like this doncha?

I try to ignore it, but he pulls me towards him and onto my back. Next thing I know he is nibbling my earlobe. What porn is he watching that he’s picked this up from? It feels magical!

He breaks the silence again, Dunc, I know you favour me. A blind man could see that. I completely favour girls, but how about this? I’m willing to ‘be a friend’ and do things with you.

Benji, just what the hell does that mean? You’re willing to be exclusively gay with me? It doesn’t work that way. Fooling around with a straight guy would be about as engaging as a girl for me. Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll stop messing around with you when we sleep and figure things out on my own, I say with a voice full of venom.

His reaction is to slide down my body and make me jump when his tongue touches my cock, and he buries his face in the fly of my boxers. I try half-heartedly to struggle, relishing so deeply the fact that my best bud and sexual desire is trying to give me a blow job. It is both of our first times ever having any sexual contact, I’m over the moon that I am giving my virginity to my best friend. I am so quick to blow my load that I think I have just set a world record for fastest finish ever!

Having only ever seen cheap straight porn over the internet so that my family can’t find anything gay in the browser history should I fail to empty it, I just always assumed that when a guy gets a blowjob that he cums in his partners mouth. Benji clearly has other ideas, and gags bad when I shoot in his mouth without warning.

Although I hardly produce porn star quantities of cum, he bolts out of the sleeping bags and spits out what he can into his beer bottle. I want to kill myself, feeling so ashamed of what’s just happened. If I wasn’t again paralyzed by this, I probably should flee into the snowy woods outside until I can sort things out in my mind. My body feels numb, my joystick still tingles, but my mind is a fog.

After spitting up a lake’s worth of saliva through many muttered curses, he asks me, Where’s your beer?

I reach for it off the floor and hand it to him. I drink in his nudity as he stands over me, himself drinking the remainder of my beer to kill the taste in his mouth. Benji eventually gets back into the sleeping bag. He puts one leg up on me slightly and drapes his arm back over me.

I apologize profusely, I didn’t know where to shoot. Sorry. Where should I have? I should have told you too.

He pretty much brushes it off, Dunc, go get your gum for me. I can feel your sperms swimming in my mouth, please give me a piece of gum.

I search for my jeans behind the pullout and fish my pack of gum out of a front pocket. I used to keep the pack in my back pocket, but my buddy Peter always made a point of telling me people don’t want to taste my ass on the gum I share. So, what, now they can taste my sweaty crotch instead Pete, just like Benji can feel my semen now? This is so wrong! I’m the gay boy, I’m the one that’s wanted Benji’s sperm swimming in my mouth since I first saw a blowjob on the computer! My nipples are hard from the cold as I slip back into bed. I reach out to Benji and jab his arm. He reaches for my hand and takes the pack from me.

I’d never give it a second thought before tonight, but I notice how his hand lingers on mine slightly, how he’s never been afraid to make hand contact with me. Most guys get all awkward if they brush hands; almost violently jerking away and saying macho things, or at the very least apologizing for the simple contact because let’s face it, we’re taught that guys touching hands is gay. I guess Benji is true to his word, he doesn’t care.

Dude, I’m taking two, he informs me.

Our friends all berate any hog that takes two pieces of someone else’s gum, so he feels the need to confess. I banter back, Good. Your breath needs two.

Well, if you want to get technical asshole, if you think my breath stinks remember what was just in my mouth, he says while trying not to giggle.

Touche, I concede, "Do you want a return