The Troll Whisperer (7 page)

He stripped down to his shorts, dropping the
rest of his clothes on the floor. He crawled into his blanket nest
and grabbed his laptop. He spent the next hour on Tumblr, defending
a post he’d made about how Benedict Cumberbatch was an
alien-looking lizard motherfucker. That shit wasn’t even trolling—
it was the truth. He added another post about how Tom Hiddleston
was a terrible actor; he was sure it would bear fruit tomorrow.
Then he went to Goodreads and randomly one-starred a bunch of
books. He snapped his laptop shut. There. Now he felt normal. He
curled up with one of his blankets and hoped he wouldn’t dream
tonight.

He knew better than to dream.

CHAPTER THREE

Oscar resolved himself to only see Noah on
Saturdays for laundry. Anything else would be too much like dating.
He caved by Wednesday, when Noah invited him to come over for
dinner. It didn’t take much for Oscar’s resolve to crumble even
further. They started seeing each other two or three times a week.
Each time, Oscar told himself that it would be the last one— that
he’d break it off before he got in too deep. He didn’t do
relationships, end of story. But he couldn’t do it. Every time was
amazing. It wasn’t just the sex, which by itself was mind-blowing.
No anal, which was cool with Oscar. Mouths and hands were all that
was needed to coax out some of the best orgasms of his life. Noah
was just so eager for it, so filled with wonder every time they
kissed and touched each other. It wasn’t just getting off. It was
something more than that.

And on top of that, they also just had a lot
of fun. Noah cooked the most amazing meals for him. He hadn’t
realized how much he missed not eating shit out of a box or a can
until Noah started laying out feasts for him, sometimes with a
homemade dessert. They watched old black-and-white movies; they
were the only sorts of movies deemed “safe” by Noah’s parents,
which is why he’d seen so many. Oscar brought down his Wii and
taught Noah how to play video games— he was total shit at it at
first, but he started to get the hang of it. Noah preferred board
games. Oscar didn’t even want to know what the guys at the bar
would think of the fact that his hot dates sometimes included
Monopoly.

No, not dates. Oscar didn’t do dates. This
was just hanging out. Hanging out with sex. They didn’t go
anywhere. Nobody knew about them. That made it safe. If it never
really started, then it wouldn’t hurt so much when it was over.

It was on their seventh not-date that Oscar
decided to start spicing things up just a little more. He was on
his knees in front of Noah, ravenously sucking his cock. When he
could tell Noah was close, he popped it out of his mouth and aimed
it at his face. “Come on my face,” he panted.

Noah looked down on him. “What?”

“Just blow your load all over my face,” he
said. He was working his own dick pretty hard at just the thought
of Noah’s come dripping down his chin.

“But— but what if it gets in your eyes?”

“I’ll aim it at my mouth. Or my chin.
Whatever. I just want your come all over me.”

Noah didn’t say anything. Oscar could tell he
was losing him, so he dove back in, giving his cock a few more
vigorous sucks. “Come on,” he said, jacking Noah’s cock with one
hand and his own with the other. “Come on me. Do it!”

With a shudder and a wail, Noah shot his load
all over Oscar’s face. It hit him on his nose, cheeks, and chin.
His own cock erupted, coating his own stomach with come. He gave
Noah’s cock one last worshipful suck, which sent a shudder through
Noah, before sitting sat back on his heels and breathing a sigh of
contentment.

“I-I’m going to go get you a washcloth.” Noah
practically ran. Oscar wished he wouldn’t. He loved being covered
in come.

When Noah returned, Oscar was still on his
knees. He knelt beside him and tenderly wiped the come off his
face, then off his stomach. “Wow.” He laughed a little. “This is
something you really like, huh?”

There was a spot Noah had missed on his
cheek. He wiped it off with his thumb and stuck it in his mouth.
“Oh yeah.”

Noah kissed him on the nose. “Whatever floats
your boat,” Noah said. “But maybe we can get you goggles for next
time. It would make me feel less anxious about blinding you.”

They got to their feet. Noah took his hand
and led him to the bedroom, where they lay down for a little
cuddle. Noah laid his head on Oscar’s shoulder, and Oscar ran his
hand over Noah’s hair. “So is there anything you’d like to try?” he
asked. He was secretly hoping Noah would bring up butt stuff. He
was perfectly happy without it, but it would be a nice bonus.

Noah looked uncomfortable. “There is
something I want to tell you about, but it isn’t really a sex
thing.”

Uh-oh. He had a pretty good idea where this
conversation was headed. “Oh yeah?” he asked casually. “What’s
that?”

Noah fidgeted. “It’s something called ASMR.
Have you ever heard of it?”

Oscar kept his expression as neutral as
possible. “No. Sounds like some sort of respiratory disease.”

Noah laughed. “No. It stands for ‘autonomous
sensory meridian response.’ Basically, it means when I hear certain
things like whispering or other soft sounds, I get this pleasurable
tingling sensation— mostly in my head.”

“And it’s not a sex thing.”

“No. It’s like— I just feel really relaxed
and happy.” He paused. “It helped me a lot when I was transitioning
from my old life. Like a lot of other things, I had no idea there
were other people out there who had the same sorts of feelings.
There’s a whole community on the Internet devoted to it.”

“That doesn’t sound too weird.”

Noah sat up and gave him a look. “I like to
dress up as a nurse and make videos pretending to give people
medical exams. Please don’t tell me that doesn’t sound weird,
because it definitely is.” His shoulders had tensed.

Oscar sat up as well. “Hey,” he said gently.
“The Internet was made for weird shit. And as far as weird shit on
the Internet goes, that’s pretty tame.”

Noah relaxed, but only slightly. “I suppose
so. It’s just there are some people who give me a hard time about
it online.”

Oscar put his hand on Noah’s cheek and turned
his face until they were looking straight into each other’s eyes.
It was time to tell him the truth. “Anyone who would make you feel
bad about something like that is a loser who isn’t worth your
time.”

Noah smiled. “You’re probably right.”

Oscar gazed at Noah, who was so kind that he
wanted to take care of sick people for a living, and so considerate
that he would immediately offer help to some jackass stranger who
had just dropped his laundry all over the floor, and so modest that
he had no clue how beautiful he was. “I’m definitely right about
that,” Oscar said. “Trust me.”

Noah brought Oscar’s hand to his mouth and
kissed it. “Are you okay?”

Oscar blinked. “Yeah, of course. Why would
you ask?”

“Because the saddest look came over your face
just now.”

Oscar looked away. “Just tired, I guess.”

Noah looked as if he wanted to say something,
but hesitated. “Do you want me to show you what I do?” he finally
asked.

“What? With the ASMR thing?”

Noah nodded.

Oscar wasn’t sure what to say. “You don’t
have to.”

“I want to,” Noah said firmly. He got off the
bed. “Wait here.” He walked over to the closet, took something out
of it, and disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later he
emerged, dressed in blue scrubs. A stethoscope hung around his
neck, and he held a blood pressure cuff in one hand. He was
blushing fiercely.

Oscar was clearly supposed to say something,
but he wasn’t sure what. “You’ve definitely chosen the right
profession to go into,” he said at last. “’Cause you look great in
scrubs.”

Noah laughed. He crossed the room and sat
down on the bed. “Do you want me to do to you what I do in the
videos?” he asked.

It made Oscar feel uncomfortable. Noah was
showing him a lot of trust, which he had already betrayed by
pretending to not know this about him. But the only way for Noah to
find out would be if Oscar told him, right? And showing him was
what Noah clearly wanted to do. “Sure.”

“Okay.” He shut his eyes. When he opened them
again, he was clearly in a different frame of mind. “Hello,” he
whispered in that same sweet voice that Oscar had heard on the
video. “My name is Noah, and I’m going to take care of you.”

Oh God, he even said the same words. It was a
good thing that Oscar was already spent, because a shiver of
pleasure ran down his spine. But this wasn’t a sex thing. Noah had
seemed very firm on that point. Oscar shut his eyes and let Noah do
his thing.

Noah went through the same routine Oscar had
seen, murmuring questions he wasn’t expected to answer and
reassurances for some unnamed concerns. He ran the stethoscope over
his chest and undid the Velcro of the blood pressure cuff several
times near his ear, but didn’t actually attach it to his arm. Oscar
actually started to drift off to sleep until Noah stopped. Oscar’s
eyes fluttered open; Noah’s face was right above his. “Well?” he
asked. “Did you feel any tingling?”

“I did, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He grabbed Noah’s hand and brought it
to his crotch. “Right here.”

Noah pulled his hand away, laughing. “You are
so gross.”

“And you love it.”

Noah’s laughter faded. “I do,” he said, his
voice suddenly serious. “Love it.”

Oscar sat petrified in Noah’s loving gaze.
Noah leaned in for a kiss; Oscar dodged it.

Oscar got out of bed. “I gotta go— early
shift and all.” He gathered his clothes off the floor and started
to get dressed.

Noah remained sitting on the bed. “Okay.” He
sounded uncertain.

Oscar headed for the door, and Noah trailed
after him. “Well, see you later,” Oscar said.

Noah put his hand on the door, preventing
Oscar from leaving. “Are we okay?” he asked.

Goddamn those puppy dog eyes. “Yeah, of
course.” He gave Noah a peck on the lips. “Just gotta go. I’ll text
you later.”

Noah still looked unconvinced, but he removed
his hand, allowing Oscar to make his escape.

As he mounted the stairs to his own
apartment, he felt the stirring of the dried husk that was his
conscience. He should tell him the truth. No, that was a terrible
idea— he’d had a chance at it, but once he let Noah go through with
giving him the routine, there was no way for him to tell him now.
And then there was the whole “L” word up there in the mix. Oscar
was pretty sure Noah was the weird one, bringing that up after
they’d only been seeing each other for a month. Of course, he
didn’t actually say it directly… Maybe Oscar was overreacting. But
if they kept going on the way they were, he might hear it for real,
and he didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to deal with that.

But if that was true, then why did he keep
seeing Noah? What would he do when Noah wanted to take a few steps
outside his apartment with Oscar? Like the cockroach he was, Oscar
didn’t do well in the light of day.

As soon as he was in the door, he grabbed his
bong. Once he had a buzz going, he opened his laptop and loaded
Noah’s page. He scrolled until he found the comments he made. He
cringed. He was such a dick. Noah was going to find out eventually—
not about the comments, necessarily, but he was going to find out
that Oscar was actually not a very nice person. And then what?

He deleted his comments. It was probably a
terrible idea, because it would draw even more attention to them
than if he just left them alone, but whatever— he was high, and he
didn’t want those comments existing in the world anymore. He closed
the laptop and got up to get undressed. After finding his phone, he
pulled up Noah’s video and plugged in his headphones. He drifted
off to sleep listening to Noah’s sweet voice. It was almost like
being in his arms.

****

The next Saturday, Oscar cut his time short
with Noah in order to hang out with Jeremy, who he’d been
neglecting recently. They met at their bar, the Molten Taco. It was
the ideal hangout for many reasons. The bar existed for one
purpose, which it was not shy about hiding: to get you drunk enough
to eat the terrible tacos. It did a damn fine job at meeting that
goal. The drinks were as cheap as the decor, which was deeply
unoriginal: a few pool tables, a dartboard, a jukebox, some cracked
leather booths, and a little concrete patio out back for smoking.
All of the regulars admired the Molten Taco for its fierce
resistance to make itself at all appealing. There were no tourists
here. No locals who had any sense, either, which left the weirdos
and the misfits. These were Oscar’s people now.

Jeremy and Oscar were sitting out on the
patio for Jeremy’s fifth cigarette of the night. Oscar hated
Jeremy’s cigarettes. When he first started smoking, Oscar would
grab the pack and toss it— into a trash can, out the window of the
car, even into the gutter a couple times, which was something he
would never condone normally, given how much crap like that messed
with the sewer system. Jeremy never said anything, but the next
time they’d hang out, he had a fresh pack. Oscar gave up
eventually. It was only the second thing Jeremy had ever defied him
on, and he seemed as stubborn about this one as he was the
first.