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Camphor	By : ginseng Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Slipknot Views: 1588 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. It didn't happen. This fiction in no way represents the people mentioned within. I do not know any of the members of Slipknot. I do not profit from these stories.

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- 1-Camphor
- 1
Title: Camphor
Author: ginseng
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jim/Chris
POV: Jim
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. It didn’t happen. This fiction in no way represents the people mentioned within. I do not know any of the members of Slipknot. I do not profit from these stories.

My first time? I remember it like it was yesterday.

It all happened at the beginning of the nineties, when I drove beat up Chevy Nova with a busted front door and was really getting in to music. I listened to Metallica and Led Zeppelin all the time. We wore band tees under flannel shirts, jeans and work boots.
The happy carefree eighties were over and the new decade gave us a severe recession much like the one we experience now. No one knew what was going to happen after graduation but the jobs we had set our minds on were no longer available. College wasn’t really an option. We never really talked about the future but I worried never the less. I handled my worries the way most of my friends did; with loud music and partying hard. We spent our school days doing as little as possible to save our energy for band rehearsals. Music was our sanctuary and gave us a fake hope of a brighter future. Maybe just maybe we would make it so that we could get out of Des Moines.

Deep down inside I never thought that my dreams of becoming a rock star would come true. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time so that I could tell myself about my future. To ease my teenage anxiety just a little. But the teenage me would probably not believe the grown up me anyways.

When I returned to Ankeny High after my last summer of freedom it seemed like so much was going to change. But I could never have guessed that such life altering events was going to take place my senior year.

We couldn’t care less about school activities like pep rallies and homecoming. We lived a separate life, content with the territory that we had clamed during our freshman year – the basement and the parking lot in the back. All my friends had most of their classes in the Industrial Art department that was located in the basement. I liked printing and electrical tech the most.

I spent most of my teenage years in that basement. It was our world and we ruled it without much adult supervision. We used the fire doors that led us directly to “our” parking lot. All the metal heads parked in the back and the rest of the school used the front or the side entrance lots. We spent all our breaks by the cars, smoking and listening to music. The Industrial arts teachers looked the other way even thought we quiet often smoked stuff that weren’t exactly Marlboros. As an adult I can see why. They were probably just as unpopular as we were. Having no status in the teachers lounge they understood our situation.

I liked most of my teachers and they liked me. That’s why Mr. Jensen, my print shop teacher, gave me a break. I had screwed up my latest assignment and he offered me to make it up by doing a job out of class. I didn’t feel like it but I knew that it was an offer I couldn’t refuse so I agreed to come by at my lunch period.

About ten minutes late I strolled into Mr. Jensen’s classroom and was rather surprised to see two jocks right next to my balding teacher. Mr. Jensen explained that the football team wanted to print t-shirts for fundraising and it was my job to help them. I couldn’t help myself from letting out an annoyed sigh. Mr. Jensen rolled his eyes at me for my animosity towards the football players. Then he left.

The jocks showed me a poorly drawn sketch of the design that they wanted to print. I asked them about the colors. There weren’t much more to discuss so I kept quiet. When they were ready to leave the blond guy turned to me and asked

“When are you going to start working on our shirts?”

”I donno… Monday after school I guess…”

“Okay. See you then.”

I didn’t understand what he meant but by Monday late afternoon it became quiet clear. He stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall by Mr. Jensen’s classroom, waiting for me.

I had asked the weird exchange student in my printing class to help me with the original and I was ready to start making the screens. I moved comfortably around the classroom, from the repo camera to the darkroom, spreading the photo emulsion over the screen, working in silence. Wherever I went the football player was right behind me. I couldn’t help but notice how fit he seemed to be. His muscular arms had a nice tan and he looked really healthy with those extremely white teeth of his. Pale, with a bad case of smoker’s chough and paint stained fingers I must have looked half dead next to him.

After a while he began to ask me question about the printing process. He seemed genuinely interested so I told him how it worked with the stencil and the emulsion hardening when ultraviolet light is shown on the screen. I never really noticed when the conversation changed from printing question to the more personal kind.

When it was time to call it a day he knew my schedule, what kind of car I drove, my favorite bands, where I lived and that I didn’t have a girlfriend. I had somehow found out that his name was Chris, that he played as a kicker, that he liked the same bands as me and that he actually knew the Swedish exchange student in my class and that she could out drink him without even trying.

He had a pleasant voice and he was relaxed and calm. It wasn’t too uncomfortable have him around when I worked. It was kind of nice actually. He kept me company every afternoon until I had finished the job.

Friday night that week I went to a party at Shawn’s and much to my surprise Chris and that Swedish girl were there. I was rather high, feeling braver than usually, so I gave my new acquaintance a hug. We talked a lot and he seemed kind of eager for me to know that the Swede wasn’t his date. We talked mostly about music but Chris couldn’t help himself but talking at least a little about sports. His lively blue eyes sparkled every time he laughed and I had to hide my blushing cheeks behind my long hair.

I had really long hair back then, much longer than now, even longer than Chris got today. I can’t remember why I cut it off. But I regretted it almost immediately. And I hate growing it back. It seems like it stuck in that in-between state forever. Anyhow Chris slowly but certainly began to invade my thoughts.

I saw him in the hallways. I was embarrassed by the fact that I searched the school just to get a glimpse of him. I missed our conversations and his soft laughter. I stopped laughing when my friends made fun of the football players since I couldn’t stop thinking about his tanned arms. I pictured his blue eyes as I cleaned screens in print class. I wondered how his hair would feel like when it was wet as I took a shower.

I had never had feelings for another guy. I wasn’t a homophobe, some of my best friends were gay. But me thinking about a guy in that way caught me by surprise. And the fact that he was a jock didn’t help. Somehow it would have felt less scary if I had fallen for someone like Joey - small, feminine and part of my click. Someone like me but less male. But a muscular football player that was simply wrong.

But no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Each time I saw him the butterflies in my stomach fluttered franticly. I did everything I could to repress my feelings. I partied even harder and slept with every girl that would have me. That turned out to be a really bad idea and I had to get a penicillin prescription from the free clinic.
Nothing helped so I slowly began to accept that I had a crush on a jock. I just hoped that my feelings would subside eventually.

Some time passed and a hot spring day came when I had to install new speakers in the gym with a guy from my class. We hauled too much equipment and two ladders into the room. The female PE teacher showed us where to put the speakers and left us alone to do our job. We began to mount the speakers high up on the wall. The hot air stood still right under the ceiling and sweat tickled down my neck. I took off my t-shirt and sneaked a peak at my friend’s naked back. Even though he didn’t affect me the way Chris did I still couldn’t stop my member from moving inside my shorts. Tingling.

I was nailing the cable to the wall when a ruckus was heard from the locker room. A couple of minutes later the gym was filled with guys. A short discussion and half of them slipped their shirts off and they began to play basket ball like their life depended on it.
I’ve never understood how people can get so involved in sports. Running around like lunatics, chasing a stupid ball. Chris tries to explain to me every now and then but I still don’t get it. It seems like such waste of time and energy.

So there I was ignoring the jocks completely until I accidently looked down from my ladder and saw him. He stood in my immediate field of vision. Impossible to ignore. He smiled happily.

“Hi Jim!”

I was so surprised to see him I almost lost my balance, my words stuck in my throat.

“Hi…” I mumbled eventually.

I shivered at the sight of his glistening, naked upper body. He returned to the game and it was hard keeping my eyes off of him. He was fast. And I could easily understand why he was one of the most popular guys of the football team. Warm, lean body, soft tanned skin. My daydreams were cut short when I heard a scream followed by loud curses. I looked down. Chris lay wounded on the green floor holding his shoulder. I had to muster all my willpower to keep myself from running to him.

My classmate paid no attention what so ever to the wounded football player. He asked me to finish up so he could leave early to drive his girlfriend to the dentist’s. I shrugged my shoulder and agreed. Breathing deep trying to control my heart rate. The bell rang and I saw Chris being led to the showers. I worked fast and was done fifteen minutes later.

Everything was quiet. I turned off the lights in the gym and heard a small sound from the locker room. I opened the door slowly.

Chris was all-alone, sitting on a bench, rubbing his sore shoulder. His uneven breathing revealed just how much pain he was in. When I saw him like that something inside of me clicked. I can’t really explain it but the word that comes to mind is comprehension. Suddenly everything was clear to me. To see him in pain made me aware of just how badly I wanted him to be happy. Like a murmur in my heart and my entire body screamed with need to comfort him. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to make him smile again.

My eyes swept over his well-built body. It felt like I couldn’t breathe. He turned around.

“Oh, I’d thought you’d left.”

A few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“Nah, but I’m done now…”

“Good.” He paused for a second or two. ”Would you mind?” He held out the large bottle of Bengay. “I pulled a muscle…”

“Well… Yeah… Okay…”

I walked warily up to him and placed myself behind him on the bench. I poured the ointment into my quivering hand and took a deep breath. Slowly I approached his warm body and began to rub his sore shoulder. I worked with small, cautious movements. The lotion had a strong smell that seemed to fill the room and it made me dizzy. Or maybe it was the anticipation and the effect of being so close to him that clouded my mind. Slowly his tense muscles relaxed under my fingers.

He turned around slowly and looked me in the eyes. Anticipation so thick you could cut it with a knife.

His soft hands on my face, blue eyes burning as he painfully slow closed in on me. He tucked my hair behind my ear. I stared at his flawless lips as he leaned in even closer. I blushed, lowering my stare but he touched my chin cautiously and made me look him in the eyes.

Soft, feathery light his lips met my closed ones. Those pearly white teeth that had haunted my dreams bit around my lower lip and twisted it slightly. His hand found its way to my neck. My hands rested on his hips. I felt his warm body press against mine. Bliss.

With small, gentle nibbles he worked his way up to the other lip. With a subtle notion that sent flashes all the way down to my groin he parted my lips passionately with the tip of his tongue. Entwined. Sometimes soft and sometimes firmer. Small movements. Lips slightly parted. The tip of my tongue wandered over his lips, light, tickling and excitingly. Every single nerve end of mine was on fire, accepting him willingly.

It was a kiss filled with hunger, passionate, the kind you always want more of.
That kiss made all others pale. It felt like I wanted to stay like that forever. That single kiss was better than any sex I’ve had. And it was that kiss that made me realize that I was ready to accept my true feelings.

I can’t say that all our kisses have been as good as that first one. But most of them are, loaded with love and truly amazing. When we kiss in bed at night, right before we fall asleep it still fells like that first time. He still have that tingling effect on my lips, fills my head with excitement than makes the notion of need rush down my spine. And even to this very day I find the smell of Bengay exciting.

That’s how I remember our first kiss. He was my first and last. It’ll be him always.
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Camphor