And So It Began.... Part Eleven (Kyle/Oliver, R)
Fandom: One Life to Live
Rating: R
Summary: Oliver Fish met Kyle Lewis in college. It changed his life forever.
A/N: To say I'm nervous about this chapter is an understatement. I don't write smut; I love reading it, but it makes me very uncomfortable to write about body parts graphically unless it's in dialogue. Also, I'm not gay nor am I a man, but I'm trying to write something that is sexy and hot but also feels somewhat realistic with the feelings and actions and behavior of the characters. I hope I've achieved those goals here, because this is really the only way I feel comfortable writing sexual intimacy, especially between two men.
Rated R for not-too-graphic sexual situations, including frottage and Kyle's hand getting a little familiar with Little Ollie. Oh, and language.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven:
Don't Slow Down
Matt & Kim
Kyle and Oliver had just found a table in the LU cafeteria. As per his routine, Oliver dutifully removed the little cup of Thousand Island dressing from his tray first, so as to avoid spillage. Then his perfectly combined salad, his turkey sandwich with a fairly healthy dollop of light mayonnaise and a pickle spear, his Diet Coke, and, last but not least, his small plate filled with the cafeteria's rather decent chocolate cake. Kyle observed him, slowly rubbing his lip with his finger thoughtfully.
Oliver rolled his eyes, but grinned at the same time. "What?"
"I'm just wondering what it would take to completely throw you off this," Kyle swirled his finger at the spread, "little ritual you do every. Single. Day."
Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Why would you try to do that?"
"Because I bet if I switched your Thousand Island dressing for, oh let's say Italian, it would drive you crazy." Kyle smirked, biting his bottom lip. He added in his raspy drawl, "And I kinda like driving you crazy."
Oliver pursed his lips together; it was risky, letting Kyle talk to him like this, practically giving him carte blanche to flirt in public. But it was nice. Fun. He let Kyle say whatever he wanted, without stepping over The Line. Kyle knew what The Line was, without being told. And if The Line was crossed, then those things they did at night together would stop. Most likely... probably.
Oliver wasn't ready to be so absolute about any possible outcome.
"Dude! Lewis, you completely, totally rule!"
Both of them turned around at the booming yell. Trevor Abbott barreled up to them, holding his fist out to Kyle, who tapped it back with his. Kyle pointed at the exuberant sophomore.
"You got it, then?"
"Three-point-oh-nine, just like you promised. The car's still mine, and that trip to Padre's still on." He raised his arms triumphantly. "The GPA gods have shined down upon me! I shall crush their puny heads in my hands!"
Oliver laughed, if not a touch incredulously, at the showboating sophomore. Abbott was a member of Phi Delta Tau and a massive, burly blond guy to boot. Normally, he was an ass to guys if they were from different houses. Thus, this overly enthusiastic public display of platonic affection aimed toward Kyle was highly suspicious.
At least he wasn't jealous. Not really, if truth be told. Similar occurrences had been happening over the last few days, ever since grades were sent out. Abbott was the sixth, or seventh, person to approach Kyle this week. Oliver wasn't sure why the students were doing this to Kyle, but he didn't ask about it. Nor did Kyle offer any explanations.
But he wasn't jealous. He shouldn't be jealous at all. He was Kyle's friend... no matter what happened at night. When they were alone at Kyle's apartment.
Dammit.
"Easy there, Thor," Kyle replied, interrupting Oliver's thoughts. "That's still a B-minus. I can get you to a three-point-five. Hell, I'll bet I can boot you up to a three-point-eight-nine."
Abbott scoffed. "Whatever. The check's in the mail, bud!" With a couple more finger guns aimed directly at Kyle, Abbott bounded over to his table. Oliver stared at the retreating figure. He decided he needed some answers.
"What in the world was that about?"
Kyle shrugged, but a mischievous spark flashed in his eyes. "I gave him some help in a few classes."
"What? Like tutoring?"
Kyle snorted in mid-sip of his Coke. "Yeah. Like tutoring."
"So all the other guys and girls who kept yelling out random numbers at you -- you tutored them too?"
"Yeah. I tutored them." Kyle wiped his mouth and leaned forward, his expression quite conspiratorial. "Look, that guy -- Abbott -- he had a deal with his dad: get a 3.0 or better and he keeps his Porsche and that trip to Padre with the rest of his house."
Oliver scratched his chin. "And 'the check's in the mail'?"
"You don't think I'm stupid, do you? I don't give them my time for free. I tutor them and they pay me. He owes me for the help I gave."
"Hm. Guess you answered all my questions."
Kyle stared at Oliver, his eyes narrowed. "You don't believe me."
"Well, he is Trevor Abbott, and he's got a reputation for being a jerk. I'm just surprised he wasn't all--"
"All what?"
Oliver sighed and searched for the right words.
"You mean all asshole and Captain Caveman and that he was more..." Kyle dropped his voice low as he mocked Abbott's WWF-like tone, '''Lewis rocks my world -- WHOO!'"
Oliver laughed. "Yeah. That's what I mean."
Kyle cleared his throat, sat back in his chair, and waved his hand. "Forget Abbott. Tutoring's done until his parents get fed up with his bad grades and he asks for my help again so they don't take his Porsche or whatever. It does means one thing good, though."
"Oh yeah," Oliver said, wiping his mouth and leaning forward onto the table. "What's that?"
Kyle grinned cheekily. "Dinner's on me tonight."
****
His foot knocked over a couple of beer bottles next to the couch. He probably also kicked the now-empty pizza box that lay beneath the coffee table. But the only thing Oliver noticed was Kyle, shirtless and straddling him, kissing him hard and passionately. His hands clenched the arm of the sofa directly above Oliver's head, gripping it for dear life.
Oliver himself was sans shirt, and he took the opportunity to touch Kyle's chest, running his hand over ridges of muscle, feeling and tasting his skin. He knew Kyle hated him drinking before they fooled around. But it was better for him. Alcohol helped blur the faces of his parents from his mind. The more he drank, the less he saw them.
He also found out he was more willing to go further with Kyle. The guilt would come later -- that he was sure of. But right now, filled with beer and pizza, feeling the weight of Kyle above him and his tight, solid body surrounding his, Oliver wanted more.
They were in a clinch, Kyle's hands pressed against his face, their tongues tangled together. Oliver shifted his hips, lifting them up slightly and he felt them rub against Kyle's inner thigh, so close to his--
His mouth still on Oliver's, Kyle froze in mid-kiss. "Oliver..." His voice was low, husky, his breath seemed to be trapped on each syllable.
He said nothing. Instead, he rolled his hips again. It was like instinct, moving this way against Kyle's body. He knew Kyle could feel him through his shorts, his boxers; each time he bucked his hips into Kyle's, both of them gasped and moaned at the contact.
Kyle kept his gaze strong on Oliver's face and brought his leg over so he laid at full length next to Oliver's side on the couch. His right arm curved around Oliver's head... and, slowly, shakily, Kyle's left hand traveled down his body. Oliver stopped breathing for a moment; Kyle's fingers unbuckled his shorts. The zipper to his fly fell. And the folds of the thick khaki fabric opened.
"Do you trust me?"
"Kyle--"
"I won't do it unless you want me to." His hand rested on the elastic band of his boxers. Oliver licked his lips; briefly, he wondered if he had had the foresight to put on underwear that was subdued in tone and color, not one of his stupid cartoon-y ones that he got from his mom. His hand lay flat on Kyle's chest, his fingers trembled and flexed as he let the realization of what they were about to do sink in.
"I've wanted to try it. I've never done it to another guy before." Kyle lowered his head and kissed him. "I wanted to see how you'd react."
What Kyle was proposing was something he had only ever done to himself, and although he started out touching himself while thinking about the pretty girls in his classes, usually what pulled him over that edge was imagining the hotter guys on campus. And, since starting at LU, his favorite inspiration was Kyle Lewis. Consequently, he very rarely ever did it. He thought something was wrong with the way he was wired. But now, plied with beer and the intoxicating rush of having a shirtless Kyle splayed over his body, Oliver found his courage. Although his throat felt like it was closed off, Oliver rasped in a hoarse whisper--
"Do it."
He thanked the alcohol; somehow that beer had given him just the right push to go over that edge.
His heart raced as the boxers separated from his body and a hand that wasn't his own eased past the loose cotton fabric. Kyle slid his hand down lower, but his eyes remained on Oliver's face, watching him react, his lips curving up subtly into a very small smile. There was nothing teasing or vulgar about that smile; it was filled with wonder, curiosity. It was filled with affection.
Kyle moved his hand down lower... and lower still. The tips of his fingers brushed against sensitive flesh. Oliver jolted, but Kyle's body, lying flush with his own, kept him pinned to the couch. Physically, the touching was too soft to be defined as a collision, but Oliver's insides burst as if organs and muscles hit each other at full speed. His mind went blank. The only things that existed were him, Kyle, and Kyle's hand, now circling him, nervously trying to find a good rhythm. His brain registered a single thought: that hand did not belong to him. It was scary. Frightening. And exciting.
God, it was exciting! And the more Kyle touched him, the more the thrill overtook the fear.
He moaned, and Kyle trembled. All rational thought flew from his mind as Kyle's shaking fingers touched and teased him. It was unsteady at first, and it was all so new to Oliver, and he knew it was new to Kyle, but because it was Kyle touching him, he almost lost it. Almost.
Kyle adjusted and found the right speed, the right pressure. Oliver keened; although he had never been in this position with another guy, his hips arched into the air, wanting more, needing more. Their foreheads touched, and Kyle continued to work, increasing speed and pressure. Oliver bucked, his body rolling into Kyle's hand. He realized his eyes were shut, so he opened them. He could see Kyle's shoulder and upper arm, moving in time with his hand and with Oliver's body.
Oh God... for the love of... FUCK!!
He yelled out something, he wasn't sure what, and somewhere he heard Kyle's stifled moans, his gasps for air. Oliver's hips shot up one last time -- and he felt himself bursting, his hands clawing at Kyle's back, and something warm spreading over his boxers.
Oliver froze, his back still arched, his chest vibrating. He couldn't come down from this. Hell, he could barely see what was going on; there were spots of color and light filling his vision.
"Y-you... okay?"
Trepidation filled Kyle's voice. Hearing him brought Oliver back to earth. He lowered his body down to the couch and forced himself to return to his senses. "I am. Y-yeah." He turned to face his boyf-, no... Kyle, who looked at him with heated eyes and a face that wanted to smile, but held back for some reason.
"Like it?"
Oliver couldn't answer; he wasn't coherent enough to formulate a reply. Instead, he bobbed his head up and down, exactly twice. He hoped that would be enough to convey exactly how much the experience had gotten to him. Slowly coming out of the haze, he realized Kyle's hand was still on him. He trembled; Kyle rubbed his thumb lazily in circles. That was too much; the sensations that accompanied Kyle's thumb, paired with that finish -- Oliver couldn't take it. He was also starting to lose his buzz. Any second, his parents' faces would return and he'd see them and they would know what their son had done--
He pushed off of Kyle, a little roughly. He reached out to steady himself and he rested his hand on his chest. "Please... uh, c-can you st-stop the... the touching?" he asked in between gasps.
Kyle retracted himself immediately. "Sorry. I didn't know I was..." He chuckled. "I guess wasn't paying attention." He cleared his throat and scanned the floor, picking up a towel that was lying next to the coffee table. "Here. You can clean yourself up. I'll just be in the shower for a few minutes." He untangled himself from Oliver's body and got up, very slowly, clutching at his own shorts. "You can use it after I'm done."
For his part, Oliver kept his attention focused on his shorts, his crotch, and trying to wipe off the mess. Not to mention sorting through the emotions that flooded through him. He felt so many things right now. Happiness, pleasure, fear, excitement. And guilt. Massive guilt. When he had been in that moment -- God! He couldn't think of anything better. The touching, that hands that were not his, the rubbing and stroking, making him feel so damn good!
And it was Kyle. Kyle! He wanted to be the one to make him feel good. It turned Oliver on that Kyle, who could be so frank and sarcastic and open, who could be both nervous and assertive about what he wanted, who could touch him in many different ways... Kyle was interested in him.
That it was a guy who made him feel like this, though, troubled him. It troubled him so much.
"Hey."
Oliver looked up. Kyle leaned against the wall that led into the bedroom section. "You can leave if you need to. I don't want you to, but if you need space, I understand." Oliver opened his mouth, about to answer, but Kyle didn't wait for him to reply. He disappeared around the corner. The bathroom door closed and locked, and in the darkness of the apartment, a light clicked on, shining out from underneath it.
****
Rating: R
Summary: Oliver Fish met Kyle Lewis in college. It changed his life forever.
A/N: To say I'm nervous about this chapter is an understatement. I don't write smut; I love reading it, but it makes me very uncomfortable to write about body parts graphically unless it's in dialogue. Also, I'm not gay nor am I a man, but I'm trying to write something that is sexy and hot but also feels somewhat realistic with the feelings and actions and behavior of the characters. I hope I've achieved those goals here, because this is really the only way I feel comfortable writing sexual intimacy, especially between two men.
Rated R for not-too-graphic sexual situations, including frottage and Kyle's hand getting a little familiar with Little Ollie. Oh, and language.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven:
Don't Slow Down
Matt & Kim
Kyle and Oliver had just found a table in the LU cafeteria. As per his routine, Oliver dutifully removed the little cup of Thousand Island dressing from his tray first, so as to avoid spillage. Then his perfectly combined salad, his turkey sandwich with a fairly healthy dollop of light mayonnaise and a pickle spear, his Diet Coke, and, last but not least, his small plate filled with the cafeteria's rather decent chocolate cake. Kyle observed him, slowly rubbing his lip with his finger thoughtfully.
Oliver rolled his eyes, but grinned at the same time. "What?"
"I'm just wondering what it would take to completely throw you off this," Kyle swirled his finger at the spread, "little ritual you do every. Single. Day."
Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Why would you try to do that?"
"Because I bet if I switched your Thousand Island dressing for, oh let's say Italian, it would drive you crazy." Kyle smirked, biting his bottom lip. He added in his raspy drawl, "And I kinda like driving you crazy."
Oliver pursed his lips together; it was risky, letting Kyle talk to him like this, practically giving him carte blanche to flirt in public. But it was nice. Fun. He let Kyle say whatever he wanted, without stepping over The Line. Kyle knew what The Line was, without being told. And if The Line was crossed, then those things they did at night together would stop. Most likely... probably.
Oliver wasn't ready to be so absolute about any possible outcome.
"Dude! Lewis, you completely, totally rule!"
Both of them turned around at the booming yell. Trevor Abbott barreled up to them, holding his fist out to Kyle, who tapped it back with his. Kyle pointed at the exuberant sophomore.
"You got it, then?"
"Three-point-oh-nine, just like you promised. The car's still mine, and that trip to Padre's still on." He raised his arms triumphantly. "The GPA gods have shined down upon me! I shall crush their puny heads in my hands!"
Oliver laughed, if not a touch incredulously, at the showboating sophomore. Abbott was a member of Phi Delta Tau and a massive, burly blond guy to boot. Normally, he was an ass to guys if they were from different houses. Thus, this overly enthusiastic public display of platonic affection aimed toward Kyle was highly suspicious.
At least he wasn't jealous. Not really, if truth be told. Similar occurrences had been happening over the last few days, ever since grades were sent out. Abbott was the sixth, or seventh, person to approach Kyle this week. Oliver wasn't sure why the students were doing this to Kyle, but he didn't ask about it. Nor did Kyle offer any explanations.
But he wasn't jealous. He shouldn't be jealous at all. He was Kyle's friend... no matter what happened at night. When they were alone at Kyle's apartment.
Dammit.
"Easy there, Thor," Kyle replied, interrupting Oliver's thoughts. "That's still a B-minus. I can get you to a three-point-five. Hell, I'll bet I can boot you up to a three-point-eight-nine."
Abbott scoffed. "Whatever. The check's in the mail, bud!" With a couple more finger guns aimed directly at Kyle, Abbott bounded over to his table. Oliver stared at the retreating figure. He decided he needed some answers.
"What in the world was that about?"
Kyle shrugged, but a mischievous spark flashed in his eyes. "I gave him some help in a few classes."
"What? Like tutoring?"
Kyle snorted in mid-sip of his Coke. "Yeah. Like tutoring."
"So all the other guys and girls who kept yelling out random numbers at you -- you tutored them too?"
"Yeah. I tutored them." Kyle wiped his mouth and leaned forward, his expression quite conspiratorial. "Look, that guy -- Abbott -- he had a deal with his dad: get a 3.0 or better and he keeps his Porsche and that trip to Padre with the rest of his house."
Oliver scratched his chin. "And 'the check's in the mail'?"
"You don't think I'm stupid, do you? I don't give them my time for free. I tutor them and they pay me. He owes me for the help I gave."
"Hm. Guess you answered all my questions."
Kyle stared at Oliver, his eyes narrowed. "You don't believe me."
"Well, he is Trevor Abbott, and he's got a reputation for being a jerk. I'm just surprised he wasn't all--"
"All what?"
Oliver sighed and searched for the right words.
"You mean all asshole and Captain Caveman and that he was more..." Kyle dropped his voice low as he mocked Abbott's WWF-like tone, '''Lewis rocks my world -- WHOO!'"
Oliver laughed. "Yeah. That's what I mean."
Kyle cleared his throat, sat back in his chair, and waved his hand. "Forget Abbott. Tutoring's done until his parents get fed up with his bad grades and he asks for my help again so they don't take his Porsche or whatever. It does means one thing good, though."
"Oh yeah," Oliver said, wiping his mouth and leaning forward onto the table. "What's that?"
Kyle grinned cheekily. "Dinner's on me tonight."
****
His foot knocked over a couple of beer bottles next to the couch. He probably also kicked the now-empty pizza box that lay beneath the coffee table. But the only thing Oliver noticed was Kyle, shirtless and straddling him, kissing him hard and passionately. His hands clenched the arm of the sofa directly above Oliver's head, gripping it for dear life.
Oliver himself was sans shirt, and he took the opportunity to touch Kyle's chest, running his hand over ridges of muscle, feeling and tasting his skin. He knew Kyle hated him drinking before they fooled around. But it was better for him. Alcohol helped blur the faces of his parents from his mind. The more he drank, the less he saw them.
He also found out he was more willing to go further with Kyle. The guilt would come later -- that he was sure of. But right now, filled with beer and pizza, feeling the weight of Kyle above him and his tight, solid body surrounding his, Oliver wanted more.
They were in a clinch, Kyle's hands pressed against his face, their tongues tangled together. Oliver shifted his hips, lifting them up slightly and he felt them rub against Kyle's inner thigh, so close to his--
His mouth still on Oliver's, Kyle froze in mid-kiss. "Oliver..." His voice was low, husky, his breath seemed to be trapped on each syllable.
He said nothing. Instead, he rolled his hips again. It was like instinct, moving this way against Kyle's body. He knew Kyle could feel him through his shorts, his boxers; each time he bucked his hips into Kyle's, both of them gasped and moaned at the contact.
Kyle kept his gaze strong on Oliver's face and brought his leg over so he laid at full length next to Oliver's side on the couch. His right arm curved around Oliver's head... and, slowly, shakily, Kyle's left hand traveled down his body. Oliver stopped breathing for a moment; Kyle's fingers unbuckled his shorts. The zipper to his fly fell. And the folds of the thick khaki fabric opened.
"Do you trust me?"
"Kyle--"
"I won't do it unless you want me to." His hand rested on the elastic band of his boxers. Oliver licked his lips; briefly, he wondered if he had had the foresight to put on underwear that was subdued in tone and color, not one of his stupid cartoon-y ones that he got from his mom. His hand lay flat on Kyle's chest, his fingers trembled and flexed as he let the realization of what they were about to do sink in.
"I've wanted to try it. I've never done it to another guy before." Kyle lowered his head and kissed him. "I wanted to see how you'd react."
What Kyle was proposing was something he had only ever done to himself, and although he started out touching himself while thinking about the pretty girls in his classes, usually what pulled him over that edge was imagining the hotter guys on campus. And, since starting at LU, his favorite inspiration was Kyle Lewis. Consequently, he very rarely ever did it. He thought something was wrong with the way he was wired. But now, plied with beer and the intoxicating rush of having a shirtless Kyle splayed over his body, Oliver found his courage. Although his throat felt like it was closed off, Oliver rasped in a hoarse whisper--
"Do it."
He thanked the alcohol; somehow that beer had given him just the right push to go over that edge.
His heart raced as the boxers separated from his body and a hand that wasn't his own eased past the loose cotton fabric. Kyle slid his hand down lower, but his eyes remained on Oliver's face, watching him react, his lips curving up subtly into a very small smile. There was nothing teasing or vulgar about that smile; it was filled with wonder, curiosity. It was filled with affection.
Kyle moved his hand down lower... and lower still. The tips of his fingers brushed against sensitive flesh. Oliver jolted, but Kyle's body, lying flush with his own, kept him pinned to the couch. Physically, the touching was too soft to be defined as a collision, but Oliver's insides burst as if organs and muscles hit each other at full speed. His mind went blank. The only things that existed were him, Kyle, and Kyle's hand, now circling him, nervously trying to find a good rhythm. His brain registered a single thought: that hand did not belong to him. It was scary. Frightening. And exciting.
God, it was exciting! And the more Kyle touched him, the more the thrill overtook the fear.
He moaned, and Kyle trembled. All rational thought flew from his mind as Kyle's shaking fingers touched and teased him. It was unsteady at first, and it was all so new to Oliver, and he knew it was new to Kyle, but because it was Kyle touching him, he almost lost it. Almost.
Kyle adjusted and found the right speed, the right pressure. Oliver keened; although he had never been in this position with another guy, his hips arched into the air, wanting more, needing more. Their foreheads touched, and Kyle continued to work, increasing speed and pressure. Oliver bucked, his body rolling into Kyle's hand. He realized his eyes were shut, so he opened them. He could see Kyle's shoulder and upper arm, moving in time with his hand and with Oliver's body.
Oh God... for the love of... FUCK!!
He yelled out something, he wasn't sure what, and somewhere he heard Kyle's stifled moans, his gasps for air. Oliver's hips shot up one last time -- and he felt himself bursting, his hands clawing at Kyle's back, and something warm spreading over his boxers.
Oliver froze, his back still arched, his chest vibrating. He couldn't come down from this. Hell, he could barely see what was going on; there were spots of color and light filling his vision.
"Y-you... okay?"
Trepidation filled Kyle's voice. Hearing him brought Oliver back to earth. He lowered his body down to the couch and forced himself to return to his senses. "I am. Y-yeah." He turned to face his boyf-, no... Kyle, who looked at him with heated eyes and a face that wanted to smile, but held back for some reason.
"Like it?"
Oliver couldn't answer; he wasn't coherent enough to formulate a reply. Instead, he bobbed his head up and down, exactly twice. He hoped that would be enough to convey exactly how much the experience had gotten to him. Slowly coming out of the haze, he realized Kyle's hand was still on him. He trembled; Kyle rubbed his thumb lazily in circles. That was too much; the sensations that accompanied Kyle's thumb, paired with that finish -- Oliver couldn't take it. He was also starting to lose his buzz. Any second, his parents' faces would return and he'd see them and they would know what their son had done--
He pushed off of Kyle, a little roughly. He reached out to steady himself and he rested his hand on his chest. "Please... uh, c-can you st-stop the... the touching?" he asked in between gasps.
Kyle retracted himself immediately. "Sorry. I didn't know I was..." He chuckled. "I guess wasn't paying attention." He cleared his throat and scanned the floor, picking up a towel that was lying next to the coffee table. "Here. You can clean yourself up. I'll just be in the shower for a few minutes." He untangled himself from Oliver's body and got up, very slowly, clutching at his own shorts. "You can use it after I'm done."
For his part, Oliver kept his attention focused on his shorts, his crotch, and trying to wipe off the mess. Not to mention sorting through the emotions that flooded through him. He felt so many things right now. Happiness, pleasure, fear, excitement. And guilt. Massive guilt. When he had been in that moment -- God! He couldn't think of anything better. The touching, that hands that were not his, the rubbing and stroking, making him feel so damn good!
And it was Kyle. Kyle! He wanted to be the one to make him feel good. It turned Oliver on that Kyle, who could be so frank and sarcastic and open, who could be both nervous and assertive about what he wanted, who could touch him in many different ways... Kyle was interested in him.
That it was a guy who made him feel like this, though, troubled him. It troubled him so much.
"Hey."
Oliver looked up. Kyle leaned against the wall that led into the bedroom section. "You can leave if you need to. I don't want you to, but if you need space, I understand." Oliver opened his mouth, about to answer, but Kyle didn't wait for him to reply. He disappeared around the corner. The bathroom door closed and locked, and in the darkness of the apartment, a light clicked on, shining out from underneath it.
****