rock crushes scissors. but paper covers rock. and scissors cuts paper! kif, we have a conundrum. search them for paper … and bring me a rock.



We arrive at my house earlier than I’d thought, I’m used to walking places but we took my car this time. I thought I was going to kill us both, it’s terrifying to drive. Technically, I shouldn’t even be on the roads, I just have my learners, but what are the odds that a cop is going to pull us over?

When we pass his house, I don’t miss the flick of sadness across his features. I get out of the car first, hopping down and running around the front so I can open Keith’s door for him. He gives a macho snort of displeasure, but after a second he gives me a demure little smile that cancels it out. We stand next to the car and I tell him my mom’s home and for him to behave, and he just grabs my ass before agreeing.

We walk to the front door hurriedly, it’s freezing cold out and neither of us are properly dressed. I hear a crackle under the sole of my boot, and I look down. Under my foot is a piece of paper … I bend down and lift it out, peering at it suspiciously. It’s about the same size as my palm, thin and yellowed like rice paper, and in the center under a snowy boot print is a single heart drawn by a very wet red marker. There’s a red smudge underneath it, obscured by the heel of my shoe.

Keith leans into me and looks, I motion to the note. “From you?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“For Sasha maybe?” he guesses. It makes sense, but I don’t remember her mentioning any love interest, so I decide it must be some lonely nerd.

“Probably.” I agree and throw it into the hedges lining our property, Keith smacks my arm and scolds me. I take house key out of my pocket, putting it in the lock and turning before opening the door with vigor.

“I’M HOOOME!!” I call out to make sure they’re here. “Keith too.” I add quieter, not a whisper but a normal speaking voice.

“Come in honey, I’m in the kitchen!” my mom’s voice sounds from inside, and since she can’t see us, I take off Keith’s hoodie and hang it up, planting a quick kiss on his temple, he shoots me a sheepish grin that makes me melt.

After unlacing and kicking off our shoes, we slide on socked feet into my kitchen. My mom’s behind the island with her dark silvering hair twisted back into a bun. she’s wearing a long Disneyland t-shirt with striped pyjama pants … I’m a little embarrassed, but I remind myself that Keith’s used to her. “Hello Ms. Russel.” he says politely, but his eyes are staring relentlessly at the dough she’s stripping into noodles, I can just imagine his bottomless stomach growling.

“Keith, hun, I told you to call me Wendy.” she smiles and straightens up, huffing tiredly.

“No thanks Ms. Russel, it sounds disrespectful.” he replies, and I have to catch myself before I laugh, because earlier this hour he was screaming at a woman that wasn’t much older than my mom, and the hour before that he was getting his dick sucked, so it’s kinda amusing to hear him so nice. He shoots me a glare when I can’t hold back a snort.

Mom chuckles, obviously not over the same thing I’m chuckling about, then looks at me. “Did you remember to lock the door?”

“Yes.” I lie, too lazy to go back and do it. She turns towards the long noodles spread the length of the island before curling her hair behind her ear, leaving a streak of flour that makes it look even more greying.

“Good. I’m making fettuccini if you boys want any.”

“Sure!” Keith answers before I can, eyes shining. “Later, though … we were just planning on hanging out upstairs.”

“Oh.” Mom tries to hide her disappointment, but I know it’s there. “You two are always upstairs, sometimes I think you’ve got girlfriends hidden under your bed.” she laughs, missing our blushes. She stops and sighs. “I was hoping we could do something, the four of us.” she tells us, reminding me that Sasha’s home.

“Um …” Keith is as stuck as I am … it’s not that I don’t love my mother, I do, but I love fondling my boyfriend too.

“It’s okay.” she gives a small smile. “It’s just reminding me of Colby, we always used to have game nights and stuff like that. Sure, it was cheesy … but it was a lot of fun.”

A pang of guilt rattles me, she’s talking about my dad. Only once in a blue moon does she mention her deceased spouse who died only years after I was born. I never knew him, I was way too young, but I know he was really kind, and that he and mom were high school sweethearts.

A half hour later, we’re playing monopoly in the living room.

xxx Keith’s POV xxx

After at least two hours of board games, Coy and I trudge sluggishly up the staircase.

“That was pretty fun.” he comments quietly, keeping our odd custom of little-to-no hallway talking. I make a small noise of agreement; I can hear Sasha only several stairs behind us. We walk almost unnecessarily close to each other down the hallway as we’ve gotten in the habit of doing, and when we get to his room, Coy stumbles in the dark for a moment until he reaches his lamp. He turns to me with a crooked smile, hair flopping over his eyes. “What d’you wanna do now?”

I advance towards him, he stands still. My hands feel tiny against his chest when I gently touch him, grazing my fingertips from his navel across his ribcage, over his nipples. “Nothing.” I reply, feeling very romantic. “Sit.” I say simply, pointing to his bed. He chooses to stay silent as he back-pedals and sits on the edge of his bed, his sheets shift at the movement. I follow, carefully straddling his waist, just watching him, trying to gauge his reaction. I lean forwards and rest my chin on his shoulder, breathing the tangy scent of his hair.

“You’re the beautiful one.” I mumble, so completely smitten that I might jump off a bridge if he asked me nicely. His chest rises and falls as he laughs.

“Don’t be stupid,” he whispers, I feel his hands rest on my knees. “You’re so gorgeous I can’t think right now.”

I hide my smile in his shirt. “Maybe we’re both gorgeous.”

“Deal.”

I pull back to look at him, his blue eyes stare into mine. I watch as he absentmindedly tugs on his lip ring with his teeth, I get an idea and lean in to kiss him. Our lips slide over one another’s, my breath washes over us, and I realize he’s holding his. I suck his bottom lip with growing confidence, he nips my top one, letting his breath out his nose. He mumbles my name, muffled by my ministrations, and I slowly part my lips, letting his bottom one go, and press forward, delving my tongue into him, flicking across his own, running along his teeth, pressing it to the roof of his mouth to make him shiver.

He eventually leans back and his eyes look heavy and a bit sad. He kisses my cheek, his lips linger for a moment, breaking away with an audible noise.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, genuinely worried about the look etched across his features. I hate it when he’s sad, because even if I’m not, I’ll be sad after a second of seeing him sad. It’s happening now.

He sighs. “… I just …” he pauses and fiddles with the hem of my shirt. “… Nothin’. Lets go to bed, we can’t stay up late tomorrow. School.”

I’m about to force him to tell me the truth, but I just nod and smile. “Yessir. I’ll take it I’m sleeping in your bed?”

He smiles too. “Only if you’re half-naked.”

I try not to laugh as I take out the bobby pins holding my bangs back, shoving them into the pocket of my jeans. He’s watching me but I don’t really mind anymore, it’s not too bad. I pull my shirt over my head, dropping it on the floor. “Can I borrow a pair of your boxers at least?” I ask and he agrees, rummaging in his closet for a moment before tossing me lime green ones covered in frogs. “You actually wear these?” I laugh.

“Sometimes.” he grins. I take my jeans off and kick them out of the way, hesitating a moment after that. Coy strips off all his clothes save for his underwear and sits cross-legged on his bed, unashamed, looking at me. “Do I have to turn around again?” he asks.

I consider this for a moment, but I think by blowing me, he’s earned the right. “Nope.” and I slide the panties down my legs, hooking them on my toe to hide them under my pants on the floor. I watch him stare, but I for some reason I don’t mind as much as I thought I would. I step into his boxers that are way too big for me and just barely sit on my hips.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” he giggles and snags my arms, pulling me on top of him. I nuzzle his cheek as his thumbs rub over my wrists.

“I guess not. I figured after what you did today, you deserved it.” I say truthfully, and he just raises his eyebrows.

“You make it sound like it was a chore.”

I blink at him, not realizing that. “Oh. Well it wasn’t good, was it? I mean, for you.”

To my surprise, he fidgets. “It was good.” he says simply, trailing his hands up my arms. “What do you think I did in Jeff’s bathroom?” and he doesn’t meet my gaze, blushing furiously. It actually takes me a second to realize what he means, but when I do, I’m blushing as much as he is. I thump the crown of my head against his chest, almost laughing, but coming out more as a choked sound.

“You’re such an idiot,” I mumble, refusing to look at him. “You could have asked me to do something …”

He rests his chin on my head. “But would you have?”

I close my eyes as he swings his feet onto the bed, shifting into a lying position with his head on his pillow; I just cling to him like a burr. “I might not have sucked your cock because that stuff tastes like evil, but I’d do something else.”

He chuckles, still blushing. “Alright, well that’s good to know.”

I tilt my chin to look up at him, finally getting the nerve, but he reaches his arm out straight and flicks the light off, so now I can only see the outlines of his jaw and nose. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

I twitch in shock when his hand cradles the back of my head. “I didn’t, really.”

Closing my eyes again, I rest my cheek on his bare chest, curling my arms and playing with his the bones of his ribcage like a piano. I don’t say anything else on the subject, I just hum quietly in acknowledgement and fall asleep.


xxx Coy’s POV xxx

When I wake up in the middle of the night, I’m alone. The place next to me isn’t even warm anymore, and I freak out. I quietly pad downstairs in bare feet, my house is silent, it’s only two am and only crickets can be heard outside. Moonlight through clouds cast shimmering shadows over walls and glass. Lamps from the street glow a garish orange, I can see it through the distorted glass pane next to my front door as I come down the stairs.

I step into the kitchen; it’s empty. Our chairs around the table are pushed in, no dirty dishes are left on the countertops. I call out Keith’s name in vain, then remember that I didn’t see his shoes near the front door when I came down, so I realize that he must have gone home. I’m predictably hurt, but I figure it had to do with Brandon or his mom, so it’s reasonable.

I sigh, relived and worried at the same times. My throat feels dry and scratchy from sleep, so I walk quietly around the island that’s in front of the sink to get a drink. A shadow makes it’s way across the top of the cupboards, and I look up as I round the corner. My foot touches something foreign. I look down.

The first thing I see is the eyes, wide and lifeless. Keith, kneeling on my kitchen floor, previously hidden by the chunk of counter. He’s holding our smallest kitchen knife in his tiny fist, it’s covered in blood as are his hands. Blood is matted in his dark hair, making it even darker still, and it runs down his chest. His trachea is cut open, the source of all the blood, and even now it’s still spilling from his severed throat. I dry heave as I watch his head hang from very little muscles, he emits a gurgled noise from his open bloodstained mouth.

I scream.

And I scream.

And I scream.


xxx Keith’s POV xxx

He wakes me in the middle of the night.

I bolt upright and his pillow careens off the bed, knocking his alarm clock over onto the hardwood floor. I instantly flick his lamp on, bathing us in light. He’s screaming into the mattress, I must have moved off him sometime during the night. He’s screaming as loud as he can and it’s terrifying, soul crushing. I cup my hand around his shoulder and say his name quietly to wake him up or get him to stop, because I’m not really sure if most ‘friends’ sleep in the same bed wearing only their underwear, and if they don’t, then I don’t want his mom to see. The second my fingers touch his shoulder, he sits upright and goes silent.

His eyes don’t look awake, he doesn’t look like himself. After ten years of friendship, I know about his problems with dreams, but it’s been at least three years since he’s had one, or around me at least. His breathing is laboured and he abruptly bends at the waist, wrapping his arms around himself, and I’m worried he’s going to throw up. He dry heaves once, gagging, and I scootch back a little, just in case. Nothing happens though, and he sits up again, and I can see he’s crying, lips trembling in fear.

I say his name to get his attention, and his dark-rimmed, red eyes turn to me. He whispers my name back, but his voice is lacking everything it normally has, he sounds hollow, broken and traumatized. I start crying, biting my lip, feeling so utterly confused and helpless. He says my name one more time, and I open my mouth to say something, but he tackles me around the middle and we both fly off his bed, my elbows bruise on the floor and my head cracks against his desk.

He’s crying harder than I’ve ever seen him, his arms are around me, hugging me so tight I’m having trouble breathing. His face is pressed to my throat and he kisses across it as he sobs, tears dampening my skin as my own slide down my chin and mingle with his.

“… What’s wrong …?” I manage to choke out.

He keeps touching my throat. “Don’t die … please don’t die, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry …”

Die …? Oh shit. I think I get it now. I fight back tears and rub my hands over his back. “I’m not dead … you were dreaming …” I say awkwardly, not sure what else would be appropriate at a time like this.

“Please don’t die …” he kisses that same line across my throat. “… close your eyes … wake up … I love you, don’t die …” I freeze at three words in his jumbled sentence and start crying all over again at just the thought of his dream. It sounds terrible, and I never want him to go through something like this. “Don’t die, please wake up, I’m sorry …” he whispers. “I love you …”

I choke, and he says it again. I bury my face in his hair and wrap my arms around him tighter, telling him I love him too until his sobs recede and we both fall back asleep.


xxx Coy’s POV xxx

My head and knees are sore when I wake up. My back’s twisted in an odd position and it hurts too. When I slowly open my eyes, the first thing I see is the leg of my desk. Last night’s occurrences come back to me with screaming reality, wisps of the dream, waking up, screaming … I don’t remember anything past that. I close my eyes briefly and an image hits me like a brick: Keith kneeling in my kitchen, nearly headless, blood everywhere. I cough absentmindedly and feel sick at the thought of it all.

I try to roll over but stop on something, quickly realizing that Keith’s lying next to me, alive in snoring with one of his hands closed tightly around mine. I carefully pull my arm away, but he wakes up anyways, blinking wide green eyes at me, light at the center, ringed dark around the outside of the iris. Remainders of his eyeliner is still ringed around his eyes, smudged onto his lids, but there’s streaks of his down his cheeks.

“Mornin’.” I mumble, embarrassed and upset over what happened, and still feeling sick. He sits up and tugs the bottom of his boxers in an attempt to cover his bare legs.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and I know he’s trying desperately to avoid freaking out. He bites at his nails.

“I’m fine, Kei … just … so so so sorry.” I raise my hair and stroke his hair, raking gently against his scalp, tugging knots. I’m trying not to cry again, but I just keep remembering everything …

He slides towards me and shuffles into my lap, nosing my collarbone. “I’m so sorry too … I’m alive, if you’re worried … or maybe … well, you’re awake … um, I just …”

I flatten my palms against his shoulder blades, tracing wing tattoos I can’t see. “I’m awake, I know, it’s …” I take a deep breath, then let it go. “… I was so scared …”

And I slowly retell the account of the dream I could have sworn was real, and he looks decidedly sick by the end of it. “A-and …” I swallow hard. “I’m worried it was a premonition or something …” I stare up at him sadly. “You’re not depressed or anything, right?”

He smiles. “Of course I’m not, I have you.” he hugs me tighter, pressing his knees to my sides. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” he moves back so he can see me properly, then holds my jaw and runs his thumb over my cheek. My eyes drift down to his arm, then across to his elbow, bruised a dark red-purple. I feel guilty because I know that’s my fault, so I try to push it away by kissing him. He makes his little happy-murmur noise in his throat and responds, his fingertips dance softly across my thighs.

It’s even better kissing him now, because he’s alive, and it’s like I can’t believe it. He’d better not die on me, I don’t even know what I’d do. I tighten my hold on him, making sure he’s still here, and he is, no blood spilled. I sigh in relief.

xxxxxx

It rains all day, rattling against the windows, soaking the world. Keith and I sit on the couch in the living room all day, watching it pour outside, curled up in my sister’s barbie princess duvet, snuggled into each other since mom’s at work. Sasha’s puttering around us, walking in to get something every so often, but staying out of our way more or less. Our bare feet poke out the end of the blanket … well, mine at least, Keith’s are short enough to stay tucked somewhere near my knees. Two mugs of hot chocolate sit on the coffee table in front of us and cartoons blare on the tv, almost drowning out the steady lash of rain outside. It’s a perfect Sunday.

xxxxxx

The next morning, I wake up with a tongue in my mouth. I blink my eyes open and see green ones staring back at me, and I panic, nearly biting his tongue off in the process.

“What the fuck?!” I laugh, sitting up, throwing him off my lap. “Do you always molest me in my sleep?”

He moves back into my lap like a burr. “Of course I do, you just never wake up. You sleep like a log, you know.” he says cheekily, and I can tell by his tone that he’s in an extremely good mood. I begin thinking of a thousand things I want to do to him, but in big red letters across my brain is the word SCHOOL.

“Oh, and you don’t?” I tease. “You snore like an old man.”

He growls and flips me over, making the bed bounce when my back hits the mattress again. I yank my arms out of his grip and we start to play around, ending in me pressed back against a wall only because I let him. I’m twice his size and I could easily pin him if I wanted to, but I love that confident look he gets when he wins. He leans in, inches from my face, and chuckles lowly.

“You shouldn’t insult me …” he smiles, squeezing his thighs against mine. I twitch my fingers in his grip, pinned to the wall on either side of my head, and I smile back, both of us in a morbid way.

“Hm? Why not? What’re you gonna do?” I further the banter, letting my head rest back against the wall, a challenging look on my face. As I expected, he kisses me nice and hard, my eyes fall shut as I relish in his lips moving over mine, his unique sort of scent, his tiny fingers pressing to my palms. He opens his mouth and takes me in as my hands slide along his back, bunching the coarse fabric of his polo under my nails. His lips suck mine, or teeth clash as I take a deep breath, feeling his mouth, every contour.

When we’re both short for breath he pulls back, but before I can do anything else, his lips and tongue are at my neck again. Part of me worries that he’ll bite me as hard as I bite him, but another part of me delivers a swift kick to my brain when he flicks his tongue under my jaw. I let my eyes close halfway and stare at the ceiling as he sucks and licks and kisses any skin he can get to, making me groan. He arches his back a little, pressing his hips tight against mine, groaning softly.

My lips tremble. “Take your pants off.” I laugh breathlessly, and it sounds like I’m kidding but I’m far from it. He tilts his head and nips at my jaw, humming softly.

“… I might …” he says, languidly grinding his groin against mine, and I squirm instinctively. “Or … I’ll do this …” and with no warning, I feel the warmth of his body leaves mine, and my eyes fly open. He rolls off me and starts making his way off the bed, and I scramble to grab his arm, but he’s too fast and he’s standing.

“Keith, what the fu -”

“I’m gonna take a shower, if that’s alright ... honey?” he beams.

“No it’s not alright!!” I say desperately, trying to crawl to the edge of the bed, but he keeps walking backwards towards the door. “KEITH!!”

He blows me a kiss and flounces out the door. I almost yell after him, but then I realize that it’s pretty early, and we have school, so I stop. I drum my fingers against my legs and flop backwards to stare at the ceiling. He’d better take short showers.


xxx Keith’s POV xxx

That was sorta fun. I hadn’t really meant to leave him like that, but I just couldn’t resist seeing what he’d do. I didn’t think that he’d like the whole biting thing that much, but apparently he did because he started making all those yummy noises … I hope he’ll jump me when I get out of the shower.

I quickly strip in front of the mirror, swivelling around, looking with disdain at my stomach that’s getting a bit too pudgy. I poke at it with a finger, turning to the side and sucking it in, seeing if it makes a difference. I do eat too much … I wonder if Coy minds … I make a mental note to cut back.

Coy’s bathroom’s pretty small; I look around with that morbid fascination that people have with other’s belongings. Bottles of various things are lined along the edge of the counter, tons of different manufacturers products end up making a rainbow of shapes and colors. Since the Russel household consists of a self-conscious daughter, a prestigious mother and a homosexual son, there’s a wide variety of different uses for the array of bottles … thousands of face washes, straightening serum, anti-frizz spray, creams, hairspray, and three jars of punky color hair dye are a few I can pick out at a glance. I pick out which ones I think Coy’d use, then pop caps and smell them, seeing if I recognize any.

I feel a little bad for snooping, so I put everything back and turn on the showering, quickly getting in before I decide not to. The water’s a bit too hot at first, I slink back from under it to turn the knob to the right. After testing an unnecessary amount of times, I decide it’s good enough, and I step back under the spray. It’s oddly nice. I tilt my head back and scrape my fingers though my hair, because it’s short but it’s thick. Knots get caught on my nails, and I wince and tug them free. I slowly soak from head to toe and open my eyes to look at their shampoo.

Head and Shoulders: No doubt Ms. Russel’s.

Got 2 b: Sasha, unsurprisingly. Quite easily the most girliest thing on the market, so painfully hip hop that it makes even washing your hair cool. It’s cheap though, but she still manages to have nice hair.

American Crew: Guess who.

I can’t help a small laugh before bending over and grabbing it. Flicking it open, it smells … undeniably manly in a good way, but amusing nonetheless considering how un-manly Coy can be. I recognize the scent instantly from all the times I’ve smelled and chewed on his hair, and I lather it into my own, somewhat pleased to be smelling like him. I rinse it out, feeling suds curve down my shapeless body.

The door creaks open, hinges dull from too many early-morning arguments complete with door slamming.

My senses prickle in fear for a moment, thinking it’s Ms. Russel or Sasha, but when whoever entered stays silent, I know it’s Coy because a normal person would say something. I peer through his turquoise blue shower curtain (translucent, I might add) and can only see smudges of red and black, which is undoubtedly him.

I smirk and stay silent, letting him have his fun with me.


xxx Coy’s POV xxx

I’m not amazed that he didn’t lock the door, I guess I’m just that predictable. Either way, after much contemplation, I’ve gotten the guts to do nasty stuff with him in a shower, because he had no right just leaving like that. I’ll let him get out first if he wants, but if not … I don’t care. I take careful steps across the tile and since I thought ahead of time, I’m wearing nothing other than a dark navy bed sheet; I pull back the curtain. Water hitting the plastic runs down my forearm, and I listen to the steady ‘pssht’ of the shower, completely mesmerized beyond words.

He’s facing away from me, all I can see of him is acres of skin, several shades darker than my own. He’s nude (why am I surprised here? Shower.), save for the two small, elegant wing tattoos gracing his shoulder blades. They’re dark blue ink, and they always make me remember how he cried and crushed my hand when he was getting them; fifteen was a bit young.

His hands are clasped at his chest, making it all the more obvious that he knows I’m here. I can barely get over his amazing body, but I force my brain to kick-start back to life, and I bunch my bed sheet up around my thighs and step in behind him. My bathtub’s a helluva lot smaller than I’d anticipated, and suddenly I feel foolish. Keeping the bed sheet on was a bad idea, the spray hitting it makes an ominously loud noise in the previously peaceful tub. I blush beet red and my ego drains to zilch; I go to get out again, but as soon as my foot’s perched on the ledge, a small soft hand makes it’s presence known on my shoulder

“Don’t go.” he says quietly, barely audible over the shower. I turn to face him, lowering my leg, watching his eyes shine and his dark hair stick to his jaw. “It’s fine, don’t go.” he repeats.

I honestly don’t know what to say, I feel so stupid. How did I think this would work, like a movie? I’d see him, he’d blush and get girlish and we’d fool around on the floor of my bathtub before school? Not.

“Um, sorry.” is all I can mumble, so much blood rushing to my cheeks that I get dizzy.

He chuckles softly and presses his bare chest against the soaked sheet covering mine, lingering close and looking up at me with those eyes. “This is very romantic, Coy.” he smiles innocently. “Thank you.”

I still don’t know what to do, so I stare dumbly and nod like an invalid. He solves my problem, bless his soul, because he kisses me and when someone kisses you, the only reasonable response is to kiss them back. His tongue is warm and tastes like the murky water sloshing into our joined mouths, and I’m sure that mine’s plagued with morning breath. If it is, he has the courtesy not to mention it. My hair gets increasingly wet, soon soaked and clinging to my neck and back. Gentle hands thread in it, coming away stained red since I just recently dyed it. Crimson, blood-like water flows from it and onto Keith’s arms, I feel him smile against my lips.

He opens his mouth wider as his fingers touch my chest, brushing the hem of the sheet covering me before he curling them under the fabric and slides it down. Fear and insecurity freeze me for a moment and my lips stop moving. Keith pulls away and looks at me, brushing his knuckles over my bare skin.

“Is this okay?” he whispers and looks up at me, vision obscured by his sopping bangs over his eyes. I just nod and smile so he pulls down on the sheet a little more, exposing my chest, but he lets it rest on my hips despite his own utter nakedness. He moves closer and basically presses his face to my chest and takes deep breaths, showering wet butterfly kisses up my collarbone, under my chin, then back to my lips.

I let my eyes fall shut and get absorbed in kissing him, drawn into the taste of his tongue, so much in fact that I almost miss his hands drifting along my ribcage. They flutter and hesitate as mirror images of each other before jumping up, touching against my nipples. He’s nervous, I can tell because he’s concentrating (which means his lips stop), but his fingers get increasingly bold and soon his thumbs are rubbing hard over my nipples, feeling so good I start to get impatient.

His lips begin moving again and we keep kissing, but my body’s getting hot and his is getting demanding. He pinches my nipples between his fingers and tugs, I keep squirming impatiently, biting at him. His tongue recedes into his mouth and he pulls back, and before I can even give him a questioning look, his lips drop to one of the nipples he’d been playing with. My back arches a little as his teeth bite and pull, arms wrapping around me, and I groan helplessly, just a few steps away from jacking off right here if he doesn’t fucking touch me.

The ‘romantic’ act I’d started is shattered when my mother shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

“KEITH? COY?! HURRY UP, YOU’LL BE LATE!!” she hollers, and I curse loudly.

“KAAAY!” I shout back, knowing that if I don’t respond, she’ll come up here and I didn’t lock the door. I scream inwardly too when Keith’s lips leave my chest along with his hands and body. I look down at him exasperatedly, offering no more than a lame “Now what?”

He laughs softly and smiles serenely. “We’d better be quick then.” and in the same didn’t-see-it-coming fashion in which he does everything else, he pulls the bed sheet from around my hips and drops it on the floor of the tub, staring blatantly at everything I’ve got. I’m completely mortified because even though he’s my boyfriend, no one’s seen me naked in a really, really, really long time.

My embarrassment flares when he looks up at my face and grins. “Niiiiice.” I begin to think that my throat’s closed over because I don’t think I can talk. I just gape openly at his lack of shame. “Well,” he continues. “We’re both naked, wet and horny.” he points out, being obvious like a child, so obvious that my humiliation comes back. “What could be possibly do before we go to school?”

I don’t give him a verbal answer, but my eyes flick down between his legs momentarily before looking back up.

“Hm, aren’t you a perv.” he grins.

“You were thinking it too.” I say dryly.

“Of course I was, now shut up, we’re gonna be late. What do we have first class?”

“Math, and you’re getting a thirty three.”

“Whatever, we can miss.”


xxx Keith’s POV xxx

I give him a long look over before reaching behind him, angling the shower head down, it pelts his legs instead of his shoulders, and I pull him forwards a bit.

“What exactly, um …” he stutters. “… are we doing here?”

My answer is obvious when I wrap my arms around him, grab his bare ass and pull him against me. He makes a squeaky, shocked noise as our torsos meet, but he looses his balance when his foot slips on the sheet curled around our feet, and I’m certainly not big enough to hold him up, so we slip backwards to the floor of the tub with a deafening noise.

Even with elbows that are bruised even further, my mind completely shuts out pain when my dick rubs against his thigh, and I gasp. His hair splays across the porcelain beneath us, I search his face to see if he’s hurt himself, but his heavy lidded eyes and flushed cheeks show little discomfort. I bend over him and we kiss once more, but his tongue chases mine, more eager than before.

I cautiously scootch up and press my hips against his. His chest jerks when he takes a sharp breath through his nose in shock. I’m nearly shaking because I’m so nervous, but something is keeping me on track, which is Coy’s voice in the back of my head, basically calling me selfish for not doing anything for him. I hate that he thinks that way, and I refuse to let him keep thinking that way; the obvious answer is staring me in the face. Or rather pressing against my leg.

I stop kissing him and give a long lick up his jaw to his ear. “Sit up and spread your legs.” I tell him, not posing it as any kind of a question, and I almost giggle when his chest heaves again. He rambles nonsense that sounds like ‘uhbluh’ and nods vigorously, doing as I say and wiggling upwards, sitting on the floor of the bathtub. He’s staring intently when I kneel between his legs, smiling angelically, wiping my own hair off my forehead, sopping it back against my neck. I stare down at his dick, oddly interested because it’s predictably bigger than mine, seeing as he’s at least eight inches taller than me. I screw up my mouth, moving it from side to side, thinking and deciding it’s hot.

Slowly, as if not to scare him or something, I dip my head between his knees. I take a nervous deep breath, remembering what he said with a twinge of anger before shutting my eyes tight and giving a long lick from base to tip. He gasps from just that, and I blink a few times, deciding this isn’t so bad, and I lick again with the flat of my tongue, lingering longer this time, feeling him squirm. I keep licking, but those licks lead to a suck, then another, and soon I’m sucking on him, which is such an odd concept that makes my stomach flip and my cock twitch.

He’s moaning and breathing hard, hands gripping the edges of the tub with white knuckles, which is all very flattering, and I think more than proves that I’m not selfish. I draw my mouth up and down once more, grazing teeth, and suddenly he cries out, his hips jerk and something thick and undeniably salty floods my mouth. As pathetic as I am, it takes me a second to realize what just happened, but then there’s that familiar taste …

I spit and gag between his legs, frantically scraping over my tongue with my nails, so incredibly grossed out that I might throw up. I forget about not being selfish and my mind narrows to just getting that evil out of my mouth. I sit up and lean back, letting the shower hit my face, then I gargle water and spit it on Coy’s leg in retribution. He’s still leaned back against the edge of the bathtub, legs spread, eyes shut tight, breaths coming in moans.

I huff and sit back, satisfied now that the taste’s gone, and I grin at him, scootching back up and brushing his hair away from his face. “Good?”

“Oh. My. God.” he groans and rubs his toes along my calf appreciatively. I snicker and grin.

“Was that the first time someone other than you has touched you?” I laugh, and he kicks me.

“Shut up.” is all he can come up with for a comeback, so I just keep laughing.

He knows me too well, and has the perfect way of shutting me up. He grabs my dick full fisted, and I jerk forwards, closing my mouth immediately. He giggles and curls his arm around me, pulling me forwards, leaning back. “Hold still.” he says before sliding down until my knees are on either side of his head. I realize he’s going to suck me off again, and excitement rises in my throat, I can’t help but smile.

He swallows me deep, hand fanning out and pressing on my lower back, pushing me down, and I moan. He sucks hard, making me brace my arms against the tiled wall behind him, bowing my head and watching my cock dissapear into his mouth. I jerk my hips back and forth, almost unable to do anything else, and I'm completely mezmorized at the sight of his lips wrapped around my dick. It’s only a few minutes before I can't take anymore physical or visual stimulation and I orgasm with rambled curses and loud screams. He doesn't move back beforehand and he takes everything in his mouth, even going as far as to suck on the tip to get more. I shudder hard and collapse on his chest.

He closes his eyes and opens them before sitting back up, bracing his feet against the opposite end of the tub. He smiles at me, I’m still groaning, and he sticks his tongue out, coated in my own come. I’m too sated to move back, and I watch it drip off the tip before he leans towards me and licks along my cheek, leaving a streak that I still don’t wipe off.

“God, it’s like you’re dead!” he chuckles, and I swat my hand at him. “It wasn’t that good … man, I if I did anything other than that, you wouldn’t be able to move for days.”

I sit back and try to hit him again, but he wraps his arms around me, pinning them to my sides.

“COY-!!!” Sasha yells from just outside the door. “HAUL ASS!”

We dissolve into giggles.


xxx Coy’s POV xxx

When we basically stumble into math class fifteen minutes late, we giggle as all eyes are on us. They see our wet hair, flushing cheeks and ever-present grins, and they see clothes on Keith that are obviously too big. We can feel their minds spew out the most irregular and perverted conclusions, and we love it.

xxxxxx

The day progresses as usual with stolen kisses and gropes between classes accompanied by pointing at younger kids and giggling ‘Boys are so cute when they don’t know what way they’re swinging’ and watching them get terrified before running off. Then D block comes around at the end of the day: cooking. Now normally, I love cooking, and I’m pretty good at it, I’m actually leaning towards that as my career choice. But in this instance cooking is very bad because of eleven letters, one person: Damian Beech.

I walk into class early, wanting to ask the teacher a question about extra credit, but I notice someone among the small cluster of students already here, someone looking at me. Damian.

Now he hasn’t been too annoying lately, so I give him a smile and a wave, he grins back. Mrs. Worthing is preoccupied with someone else, so because I don’t really know too many people here, I walk over to Damian.

“Hi …” I say timidly, because it’s like he’s an ex boyfriend, but not … if that makes sense. “What’s up?”

I’m very surprised to see him blush a bit, just across his nose. I watch as he collects his thoughts, noting his slightly more sallow skin and the way he keeps pulling nervously at the long sleeves of his shirt. “Nothing really.” he finally answers, and smiles at me. “How’ve you been?”

I’m skeptic because he’s being a little bit un-Damian, but I keep talking out of politeness. “I’ve been pretty good, I just -”

“How’s Keith?” he cuts me off. I blink and frown.

"He’s fine …” I lower my voice a little, drawing out a bit happiness as he tugs his sleeves again. “We’re still together.”

“Are you happy with him?” he stares at me, not even bothering to pretend he isn’t. I look at my shoes.

“Very happy, thank you.” I force politeness, ignoring my concern, suspicion and annoyance. “How are you doing though?”

He laughs, but it sounds a little … I don’t know. “I’ve been good too. I got back together with James, by the way.”

“Oh!” I say, not really seeing that coming. “That’s good … how’s he been treating you?”

He nods and smiles, tugging his sleeves with his fingertips. “He’s amazing … so attentive, kind, smart … I really like him.”

“Good to hear.” is my clipped answer, but I’m secretly relieved to hear that he’s moving on, for a while I was worried about him.

I watch him a second longer, he opens his mouth as if to say something, but Mrs. Worthing’s voice rings out, and he closes it.


shorter than the last chapter, but … whatever. sorry for any typos *fingersnaps* school’s starting soon, so less updates, or something.





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