A/N: So this is a little one-shot I wrote today, just for fun. I hope you enjoy it, even if it isn't an update on any of my other stories x

Warning: Rated M for strong/offensive language. Also has homosexual themes (Yaoi).



Sometimes you write just to get all the crap out of your head - to put it on paper where you can see it and don't have to spend your whole frigging day trying to sort it out. Y'know what I mean? When it all builds up and you can't concentrate on anything else, and it's a fuckin' trial to try and keep things straight? Yeah, that's it. That's why I'm writing this, and it isn't because I enjoy it.

This isn't a story, by the way, this is my journal (God, I sound like a freaking fifteen year old girl). I decided to start this after I walked past this really kooky little thrift shop on the way home from Gracie's house and saw this leather-bound diary thing in the front window. It looked cool, and like I said I've been stressing about getting all this shit out of my head, so I went inside and bought it despite it costing nearly fifteen quid (note to self: I'm currently broke).

Well, whatever, here I go. I feel gay even writing this, which doesn't help, but fuck that. Also, ignore the date at the top of the page. It says January but it's actually the middle of May – I don't want to waste the paper and it serves me right for waiting until practically half the year is gone to get all this crap down. It's the 22nd of May, although it is 2013.

So. Here is the big revelation, the thing that's been keeping me up for weeks now and is the reason I'm fucking terrified of entering the guys' changing room. I'd ask for a drumroll, but I know I won't get one.

I think I might be gay.

I know what you're thinking: you're either gay or you're not; make your fucking mind up - it's not even possible for you not to know what you are. But I'm telling you, man, it is possible. I have no frickin' clue what the fuck I am anymore, and it's all the fault of one goddamned, jackass of a person.

Yeah, that's right. You know who I'm thinking of. It's the same guy it always is, isn't it. Isn't it?

Danny fucking Knowles. Danny fuckin' Knowles. Danny fucking -

You get the picture.

So why, I hear you ask, is this dickturd the reason you think you might be gay? Well, fictional reader (and here I clear my throat and give a little laugh, maybe even a cheeky wink for the ladies – or would it be the men, now?), I'm glad you asked. The reason Danny Knowles is at fault for my sudden rainbow-coloured growth of gayness is because he practically fucking raped me the other day.

Whoa, whoa there. He didn't actually rape me, you guys; don't get too worried for me about that. He just humped my leg a little and felt me up a bit in my pants. Of course, I was pressed up against the wall so I couldn't escape or anything, but he never actually put his 'wiener' in me (thank God for that!). If he had I probably would have been torn apart, and if so then I wouldn't be writing this today.

But anyway, that isn't really the issue here. Or at least, it's an issue, but it's not the issue, because what's a bit of fake-rape between friends (or not friends)? The issue, the fucking reason why I'm thinking I might be gay is that when Danny Knowles frickin' dry humped my ass with his sweaty, heavy body pressed against mine and his hands down my pants, the rest of the rugby team standing all around us in a freakin' semicircle, I got a boner.

Yes, you heard me right. A boner. A Boner with a capital B. An erection, a stiffy, wood - whatever you want to call it.

How in the freakin' hell could I have been fuckin' aroused by that pathetic meatball humping up against me?! Argh! God! What is the fuck is wrong with me?!

Of course, Danny knew as soon as I'd gotten hard. It wasn't that hard to tell, especially since he had his hands all over me. So there I was, pressed up against a dirty tiled wall with a bunch of muscled thickheads cheering Danny on in my torment, and I got hard (why, dear God, why?!), and Danny grew all still and quiet-like and for a moment I couldn't breathe because if he didn't have an inkling in hell about what was going on then I certainly fucking didn't.

But Danny had stopped 'fucking' me, and all the guys wanted to know what was going on, so Danny unstuck himself from me and without any goddamned warning pulled my trousers, pants and all, down right there in front of the entire changing room and guy's rugby team.

I mean, what the fuck?! Who fucking does that?!

So there I stood, bare-assed and fucking trembling as the guys looked on, stupefied. Except, they didn't actually get what Danny had realised yet. I was still facing the wall, see, trying to get my head around what had just happened. Plus the fact that I had a massive stiffy on and didn't want to get the shit teased out of me for being a fag. The rest of the guys in that room probably thought Danny was planning on fucking me for real, or something. Hell, that would have been one tough gig.

But instead of fucking me like all those dickwads thought he was going to, all Danny did was turn me around by the shoulders so that I was facing him, and stare.

God. His stare.

Maybe the boner is more than half of it, even 70% or maybe more, but the remaining percentage of the reasons why I think I'm gay is because of that stare. Don't get me wrong, he looked real stupid, his eyebrows all scrunched up in the middle like he didn't get what he was seeing, like he didn't jerk off and see his own every friggin' day, but god, the way he looked at me. Fuck, just remembering it sends shivers down my spine.

His eyes made me feel something I've never felt before. They're dark, and buttony but in a good way, I suppose, like Shrek's when he gets turned into a man in the second film. He has the hair, too, except he doesn't have the nose and lower half of his face (I mean, he does have the lower half of his face, but not Shrek-the-human's lower facial half. Capiche?) - but I'm digressing.

Anyway, I know that the whole 'felt something I've never felt before' line sounds corny and believe me I fucking get it, but don't you dare think even for one minute that it was some sappy emotion like love or something. Nah, this was something that sent heat shooting right from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair, setting my face on fire in such a way that I felt like a fucking bonfire.

Fuck. It was lust, man. Lust like I've never felt it before, not even for those double-D blonde chicks on porn vids I've downloaded. Heck, I'm even fucking embarrassed to admit it, especially since it wasn't even for some guy that looked halfway decent – no, I had to get the six foot four troll with the meaty, gropey hands, hot breath, and IQ that probably rested somewhere below 70. It was for fucking Danny Knowles. I've known the kid for practically forever, for godsakes.

Of course, my dick also reacted to this stare. As I stood there, with 'it' growing proudly taller by the second, until it was practically straining towards Danny for a bit of attention (okay, I'm getting a bit too graphic here, what if Emily finds this?), the guys' brains suddenly started catching up with what their eyes were seeing and they began sniggering like the fucking dicktards they are.

"Hey Danny – he's a fucking fag!" One guy burst out into bemused laughter. Asshole. I'd say 'no friggn' duh', but that's still an issue I'm attempting to come to terms with myself here.

My face burned, and I just stood there with my pants pooled down by my ankles. Then as I stared back at the guys, and Danny just stared at me, hoots of laughter erupted into the testosterone, sweat filled room, and somebody wolf - whistled at me.

"Suck him off, Danny!"

Similarly intelligent and well thought out catcalls followed before I had the presence of mind to hoick up my trousers and leg it out of there, face crimson and my mind whirling and already as fucking mixed up as it is now. I didn't look back, so I didn't get to see Danny's face as I ran out of there, but I imagine he was laughing just as hard as the rest of them. Idiots. I'm just surprised that none of them tried to stop me.

Well, then, fuck, you can guess what I did after that. I found a nice, quiet, abandoned block of toilets in which to jerk off in, and the kicker is (are you ready for it?), when I jerked off it still wasn't the mental image of one of those busty blonde babes that did the ticket, that precipitated the eruption, so to speak, it was the sudden thought of Danny Knowles' chocolaty brown eyes licking me up and down from head to toe that got me the jackpot.

You get the picture (not that one!)? Yeah, I didn't think so. Me neither.

I'm as confused as you are right now.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed, even if it was short! Please drop me a review to tell me what you think :D

I've also just realised: yet another of my characters who has a variant of 'Daniel' as their name. Maybe I'm cursed? It's a little strange, because I don't even realise it when I'm writing, and it's only stories that I've uploaded to FP that have this problem.

The Witch's Lover