My heart fluttering, I adjusted my grip on my box of possessions, with Marshall's head balanced carefully standing upright on top, so I could knock on the door. Technically, this is my own room now. I shouldn't have to knock. But in another sense, it wasn't really my own room until I had been in it at least once.
There was no response to my knock. I supposed Maverick had gone down to the gym. I pushed open the door, and nearly dropped the box. Maverick was there, on his bed, looking in my direction — he hadn't answered the knock because it was very hard to talk in the neck trainer.
I frowned, walking into the room and depositing my possessions on the other bed. "I don't suppose there's any point in reminding you we're not allowed to use that alone."
Maverick put his hands on the handles on the wall to push himself up and take the stress off his neck. "Suppose any boy's ever actually died using one? I don't mind rules when they make sense." He let himself back down again, once more supporting his upper-body weight with his neck muscles.
Maverick had shrugged indifferently when he'd been summoned to the dorm parents' room and asked whether the new arrangements were okay with him. Most likely he regarded any roommate as little more than a mechanism to make hanging practice possible. It probably doesn't even matter that my first words to him as a roommate were a criticism. Maverick was one of that small number of people whose self-assurance was genuine, not a cover for insecurity. Any critics of his behavior or techniques were automatically wrong, and no cause for concern.
I sat on the bed that would be mine, wondering if there was some way to establish a relationship on a more friendly basis. I cleared my throat. "I really like those moves you do when you're hanging. I keep trying them, but I can't breathe right when I'm doing them. Do you think you'd be able to give me some pointers?"
Maverick, clearly annoyed at being interrupted once more, pushed himself up again to speak. "I don't really have any magical training secrets. I don't have some way that I do it. I just do it. Now could you give me a few minutes here?"
I sighed. "Sure." I stood and decided I may as well start distributing my possessions. I began by reverently putting Marshall's head on the shelf that corresponded with the one it had occupied in the room I'd shared with Sumner. I'd nearly finished getting my things put away, when Maverick decided he'd finished with the trainer. I heard Maverick behind me, putting the device back in its holder, and heard Maverick's curious question, "Who's that?"
I turned and saw that Maverick was looking at Marshall's head. He had to be the only boy at the Academy who wasn't aware that I had Marshall. One after another, it seemed every boy in the school, including the Second and Third Years who had known Marshall personally, had made the pilgrimage to my room to see Marshall and reminisce about the boy they'd all admired. Somehow Maverick had been out of the loop, but maybe that wasn't as surprising as it seemed. Students had learned very early on how pointless it was to try to engage Maverick in small talk.
I smiled, as always when the warm memories of my day with Marshall came flooding back. "This is Marshall. He graduated the year before last — the Third Years now were First Years when he was finishing. He was hanged at my house."
I'd never before seen Maverick impressed by anything. His eyes were fastened immovably on Marshall now, his mouth slightly open. "He's a graduate? You saw him do his show?"
I nodded eagerly. "I even got to help."
Maverick seemed to pull himself together. "That's pretty cool." I could almost visibly see the boy's barriers falling back into place, as if by conscious effort.
It was frustrating on many levels. Beyond the practical need to get to know my new roommate better, I was physically attracted to Maverick, yet also constantly repelled by his rejection of personal contact.
I was suddenly appalled at myself — somehow I had avoided considering the possibility that I had sexual reasons for deciding to room with Maverick. My only conscious thought, beyond the need to help Shaw, was that I could give myself a chance to learn from Maverick. His hanging techniques far surpassed those of anyone else in the class.
Okay, fine, I thought. Don't lie to yourself about this anymore.
In any case, I could meet neither my physical nor my intellectual goal unless I could somehow crack the shell that surrounded Maverick. Trying quickly to catch Maverick before he was totally inaccessible again, I said, "I'm going down to the gym to get in some workout time. Want to come with me?"
Maverick shook his head. "Going to watch some hanging vids."
I thought about staying to watch the videos with Maverick, but after my invitation to the gym, changing my plans would look like a pathetic attempt to ingratiate myself. I suppressed a sigh. "Okay, see you later."
Maverick had already turned to a pile of video disks, and made no response. I left, furious with myself.
After my workout, I went to Larry's and Leo's, and spent the night. As I lay between them, I had trouble remembering that Larry was Larry and Leo was Leo, and that neither naked body snuggled against mine was Maverick's.
I wish I wasn't so nervous, I thought as I pulled off my shorts and briefs and dropped them atop my shirt on my bed. It's not like Maverick hasn't seen me hang before. That was in group practice, though. I've never done it alone with him before. He'll be my entire audience, and even if he doesn't say anything, I know he'll be critiquing me in his mind, noticing all the things I'm doing wrong and feeling superior. I hope he does tell me if I'm doing it wrong. That's the biggest reason for having a partner to practice with — well, other than having somebody to keep you from dying, of course.
I caught myself nearly grinding my teeth as I watched Maverick strip off his own uniform, to stand naked waiting for me to step up onto the platform. It wouldn't be so bad if there was any possibility at all we might play some sex games eventually, but I have to look at that body and think Damn, can't touch.
It was two days since I'd moved in with Maverick, and I'd procrastinated as long as I could before suggesting hanging practice. Maverick and I had barely said ten words to each other in the two days. I had slept in the room with Maverick last night for the first time, telling myself it would eventually feel more natural. Maverick and I both slept nude, Maverick with no evident self-consciousness, nor any obvious awareness of what seeing him that way was doing to me. I had lost any shyness about showing myself to anyone else, and in fact felt a growing confidence that other boys were admiring my body in the gym as I continued sculpting it the way I wanted it, but I still didn't feel in the same class with Maverick. As I lay in bed, a fantasy, no doubt hopeless, of sharing Maverick's bed and intimacy had begun to overwhelm me, and I lay on my side under the bedsheets and worked myself to the quietest orgasm I could manage. I felt fairly sure Maverick hadn't been able to tell.
I turned now and stepped onto the platform, and blinked at seeing Maverick holding a length of rope instead of handcuffs. Maverick noticed my surprise, and shrugged. "I just like it better. Doesn't matter to me if it takes longer."
I nodded, and turned away with my hands behind me. Maverick secured my wrists quickly, and hopped onto the platform to pull the noose down over my head, tighten it and adjust it. I turned to look at Maverick. "Four minutes, okay?"
Maverick gave me a little smile. "Sure." I could read the smile: what, only four minutes? I had gone longer in practice, but wanted to try some of Maverick's moves, at the cost of a little time.
The instant my feet left the platform, I knew I'd made a mistake. I'd been concentrating so hard on visualizing the hip thrusts and leg swings I'd wanted to make, that I hadn't filled my lungs enough before swinging. I tried to make up for it by using the head-rolling technique and sucking in as much air as I could, but didn't have enough experience with the technique to get caught up to where I needed to be. Furious with myself, I waggled my right foot in the standard gesture barely a minute after getting noose-borne. I felt the platform come up to support me, knowing my face was redder than the hanging would account for. Damn it!! I tried to avoid looking at Maverick, but couldn't manage to miss his eyes looking the question at me.
I took a deep breath and sighed. "You know you've seen me do a lot better than that in class. I just messed up." With anyone else I would have laughed it off. Nobody else, though, was Maverick, and nobody else could have induced such deep humiliation in me. "I want to try it again. Give me about five minutes to catch my breath, okay?"
Maverick nodded, his usual smirk on display, and sat on his bed, pulling a book from his shelf and opening it.
I sighed again, deeply, closed my eyes and worked to calm myself. Okay, forget the fancy stuff. Just do a hanging long enough to get some degree of respect. Keeping my eyes closed, I tried to convince myself it was Larry sitting there on the bed, waiting to hang me and then give me some advice afterwards. I let Larry's voice play like a recording in my mind, friendly, joking. There, okay, it was working. "Okay, let's do it." I nearly tacked the name "Larr" onto the end of the sentence, barely stopping myself. "Just let me go till I signal to stop."
Once aloft, I knew it was okay. I felt, as always (except for that last attempt moments earlier) at home in the noose, excited by its tight caress of my neck. I imagined myself as Marshall, visualized the gawking crowd of Andrew's friends in front of the stage. As I kicked, I reminded myself of the way Marshall had turned himself in mid-air so everybody could see his back. That's another thing I need to learn how to do, and I will, I promised myself. That and Maverick's stuff, but that's for later, I just need to get the basics down now...
A feeling of faintness came on me at last, frustrating me: it reminded me I couldn't do this forever. I waggled my foot once more, and gasped in a huge lungful of breath the moment the platform supported me and the tension eased. As soon as I could talk, I looked down at Maverick, a little surprised to see it was indeed him and not Larry, and asked, "How was that?"
"You mean time or style?"
"Well, both, but mainly the time."
"I got it at 5:45."
"Really?" I had never managed more than five minutes before.
Maverick nodded. "Yeah, but as far as style points, you weren't desperate enough. It was almost like a slo-mo film of a hanging."
I almost laughed. Okay, I thought, maybe I overdid the calming exercises. "I was just going for time," I lied. The fact was I had really hoped to show Maverick a little more in the way of hanging style, at least to the extent I had already learned it, though avoiding anything new. "I'll kick better next time."
Maverick was already untying the rope around my wrists. "If you say so."
I sighed. Okay, Maverick can read every move any Hanging Boy makes, so no more trying to put anything over on him. I hopped down from the platform, to see that Maverick had already turned away, his hands behind him holding the rope toward me.
I gritted my teeth as I tied the rope around Maverick's wrists. I just couldn't keep my knuckles from brushing against those perfect buttocks and tail, but I promised myself I'd work off the sexual tension later with Larry and Leo.
As I followed Maverick onto the platform and took hold of the noose, a feeling of awe washed over me. In a few years, this boy will be famous for hanging. He'll put on the most incredible show anybody's ever seen, and I get to be the one putting a noose around that neck now. "Stop it, I screamed at myself. "Don't add 'worship' to the bubbling stew of feelings you've already got about your roommate, you've got to get through three years with him somehow." I wondered for the hundredth time, as I adjusted the noose, how badly I'd screwed up by volunteering to partner up with Maverick. I hopped down from the platform, gave Maverick enough time to prepare himself, and pulled the lever.
Somehow seeing him in class had not been sufficient preparation for watching him up close, alone. The impact of watching Maverick's thrusting hips, his legs intertwining and wrapping around those of an invisible lover, was increased by the knowledge that Maverick was performing for me alone — and the fact that it was all show, that Maverick had no physical interest in me, somehow didn't detract from the illusion that Maverick was making passionate love to me.
I was so consumed in wonder that I almost missed seeing Maverick waggle his foot, and only then realized my hand was between my legs, furiously rubbing my sheath. I reached for the lever, and saw that my hand was slimy with pre-cum. Almost panicked, I rubbed it more or less dry on my hip and reached to push the lever with my other hand.
With half my mind, I was astonished to see that Maverick, though covered in a sheen of sweat, was breathing evenly, though harder and deeper than usual, as he stood once more on the platform — any of the other boys would be gasping for breath at this point. The other half of my mind was clamoring for a chance to reach the climax I'd been so close to. I got another shock as I looked at my watch. "Uhhh... Ten minutes. Ten oh four, really." I wasn't sure Larry, or any of the other Second Years, were doing it that long yet.
Maverick nodded briefly. "I know."
What the hell, has he got a clock in his head along with everything else?
My needs suddenly took control, and I bolted into the tiny bathroom and threw the door closed, my hand grabbing my cock. My next conscious thought didn't intrude until after my whole being had been shaken to the core by orgasm, and that thought, as the throes died away, was: What's he going to think of this? I can't face him. I'll have to stay here in the bathroom for three years.
Well, at least I won't die of thirst, I thought, looking at the faucets, choking back a sudden giggle. And I'll be clean. Maybe he can slide food under the door.
He must be used to this reaction, I suddenly realized; Shaw had undoubtedly spent time in this same bathroom under the same circumstances. Did Shaw run in here every time, I wondered, or did he give up trying to hide it?
My face even redder than after my first aborted hanging attempt in front of Maverick, I finally pulled the door open. Maverick was still standing on the platform, his hands tied behind him. My embarrassment got worse as I realized I hadn't untied him from the noose yet. Maverick looked at me with the usual smirk, that ever-present smile-equivalent of laughing at someone rather than with them. I gestured vaguely. "I'm sorry, I had to..." No lie could possibly work here. "Well, I just had to."
"Uh-huh. Anything else you have to do before you let me down?"
I opened my mouth to apologize again, then thought, what's the use? "Ummm... no, that about covers it." I walked around behind Maverick and started untying his wrists.
"Wynn, slow down," Larry gasped, clamping his arms around my waist to hold me still. I was on top, rubbing my cock urgently against his. "Let me get some kind of rhythm going."
I tried to stop moving, groaning as my hips continued twitching helplessly. "I'm sorry, really. We're not going to be able to come together tonight, I don't think. Could you get me off first? I promise I'll make you feel really nice after."
Larry snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'll hold you to that. Hand?"
My eyes squeezed shut, I shook my head briefly. "Just squeeze me between your thighs, and let me rub against them. I'm almost there." Larry did as requested, and I let go a heartfelt moan, then followed it with breathier ones of gradually higher pitch as I felt the lemur's thigh-fur squeezing my cock. I thrust between them, rubbing myself against the lemur's soft fur. Soon I stiffened suddenly, and a loud groan of pleasure burst from my throat.
I collapsed on top of my friend, burying my face in Larry's hair, ashamed our sex play couldn't be a more collaborative effort. My voice muffled by the hair, I moaned, "Sorry, Larr. He's just getting me so horny I can't stand it."
Larry rubbed my back. "You want an artificial pussy or something?"
I shook my head. "No, I've got you." I gasped then and raised my head abruptly, looking into Larry's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Larr! See, that's what he does to me, he's wrecked my tact too! I just made you sound like you're a sex toy! You know I love you, right?" I held Larry's eyes with a pleading look.
Larry smiled. "Goes without saying. Anyway, I'd like to think I can beat out a machine any day."
Leo, sitting on the floor leaning back against the side of the bed, reached back absently over his shoulder and stroked the back of my thigh with the hand that wasn't using a highlighter to mark words and phrases in his textbook. Leo had an uncanny ability to concentrate through anything, whether it was the unwatched TV show in front of him or his roommate and their best friend making love behind him. It was the result of growing up with six brothers. "Wynn, just ask Maverick if he wants to do it with you. Who knows?"
I shuddered. "It wouldn't work. I don't even like him! It's just his body and face that are making me nuts, and that stuff he does when he's hanging. Seeing him sprawled naked on his bed with his nose in a textbook. Coming into the bathroom to take a shower while I'm peeing." I shook myself violently to clear the images out of my head, making Larry grunt out an irritated "Hey!" underneath me. "Anyway, if we did play, I know it'd be like he was just granting a favor to one of his worshipers, which he assumes everybody is."
Larry stroked my hair, hoping to calm me. "Just talk to him, then. Find some common ground. Maybe there's something likeable deeper inside."
I sighed. "I can't talk to him. I mean, I've tried, but there's nothing he's interested in talking about with me, or anybody else. The only thing in the world he cares about is hanging, and he won't talk about that either! It's like he's some big hanging corporation, afraid of giving away trade secrets. And I'd be interrupting his reading. I swear, he's had half the books in the library in there with him at one time or another, so now he's working on the other half. At least he's dedicated. I do admire that much."
Leo, in a muttered voice that showed half his mind was still on his studies, asked, "So what's he read about?"
I shrugged. "Anything. Everything. About hanging, I mean, as far as I can tell. I think he's got some kind of program going. I mean, the subject of the books kind of shifts over the days. Maybe there's a pattern, but I don't see it yet. Last night he came in lugging eight or nine medical texts, mostly hanging-related. He was going back and forth between them, and he didn't even hear me when I asked if he minded if I turned the TV on. Didn't seem to hear the shows, either. When he took a bathroom break I tried to see what he'd been looking at. A couple of them fell open to chapters on the carotid arteries, so I guess he was trying to coordinate all the info they had on that. No idea what for, though." I sighed again. "Let's not talk about it anymore. It's not helping."
Larry smiled. "Okay then, you said something about making me feel really nice."
I laughed. "There, much better subject. What do you want?"
Larry stretched his arms out beyond his head. "I really feel like a mouth."
I giggled and pursed my lips. "Viff one?"
Larry grinned. "That's the one. It owes me one."
"One or more." I backed off down Larry's body, stopping with my head between Larry's legs. After I'd licked him for a minute or so, Larry was nice and hard. I shifted my attentions, sliding my lips and tongue up and down one side of his cock for a few seconds, then switching to the other. I kept that up until he grabbed my head and pulled me onto his cock. I moved slowly at first, using my tongue on his most sensitive spots, and slid my lips down his length. I repeated this, getting him close but never quite there, until he'd had all he could take. He grabbed my head again and pulled me into the rhythm he needed, then screamed as he came. It was delicious, all the more because I knew I'd given my friend the pleasure he deserved after what he'd given me earlier.
They handed out parts of Sumner's pelt after lunch the next day. Gil gave me the fur from one of Sumner's buttocks, and his cock. Well, it was actually a rubberized plastic model; the tissues in a penis do not work properly for taxidermy. According to the accompanying certificate, it was cast from his actual cock, which had been filled with liquid the same way a natural erection does. The certificate also promised me his actual cock in a few months, once it had been mummified so it would keep.