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Is That What The Kids Are Calling It?

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You are Jake English, and the situation you have found yourself in is really rather fucking awkward. You have always been of the mind that there is no better way to test another boy’s mettle than a good round of wrestling. Of course, you’ve never actually met any other boys before, but who better to test out this theory than with one John Egbert.

There’s no way a hot-blooded young scoundrel like yourself could resist a bout of friendly horseplay when you first met with an esteemed friendleader such as John. With all that said, you sure as shit didn’t expect him to actually beat you. He’s just a kid, for crying out loud. Nothing more than a scamp. But there he is, above you, pinning you down. That, by itself, wouldn’t be necessarily awkward. Embarrassing? Yes. More than you will ever admit. But not awkward.

What is just a little bit awkward is the way that John’s making you feel…a little more hot-blooded than usual. Maybe it’s how earnest he is. The way he just smiles at you, face flushed, completely unaware of what may or may not be going on below the belt.

Maybe it’s the way his god-tier outfit makes his eyes seem just that much more blue. Or maybe it’s how he looks almost – but not quite – exactly like you. And you have always been a pinnacle of studliness, if you do say so yourself.

“Give up yet?” He says, so close you can feel his laugh on your face. You intend to give some pithy one-liner like, “Not on your life, kid,” and then put him in a sleeper hold (which you could totally do), but instead of doing anything like that you lift your head up as fast as you can, and close that gap between his lips and yours.

You’ve always been a man of impulse.

He gasps, and pulls back like your goddamn lips were made of lightning, and that all it takes to flip the tables. You rush forward, catch him off-guard, and then you’re the one pinning him down. It shouldn’t get your blood racing, but it does.

“Um. You know, when you said you wanted to ‘wrestle,’ this really wasn’t what I had in mind.”

You say, “Change of plans,” because it’s a really cool thing to say and because you don’t want to admit that it wasn’t what you originally had in mind, either. You go to lay a righteous smoochdown on him, and as you lean over you shift your hips to get more comfortable and…whoa there. It looks like you’re not the only one who’s more than a little intrigued by this scenario. John lets out a small, "Oh," then looks away.

“I’m not a homosexual,” he defiantly says to the wall. You just roll your eyes and say, “Neither am I.”

He looks back at you after that with “What the heck?” written all over his face. You decide to take some pity on him, because this conversation is getting to be a real mood killer. “John, come on, we’re basically the same person. Just think of me like an older, cooler version of you.”

He huffs a laugh at that. “Yeah right. Cooler. You think ‘A Knight’s Tale’ is a good movie.”

You decide to forgo a fight about the cinematic merits of movies featuring Heath Ledger and anachronistic soundtracks until a better time, and get back down to the business at hand. Either he’s accepted your awesomely articulated argument, or he’s given up on caring and decided to just fucking go with it already, because when go to kiss him again he doesn’t fight it, and gamely tries to kiss you back.

As far as kisses go, it’s pretty terrible. There’s too much spit, and neither of you know what to do with your tongues. It turns out your Aayla Secura poster was not adequate practice at all.

Still, what you both lack in technical skill you more than make up for in enthusiasm. John’s making these grunting, groaning noises, and you’ve let up on his arms enough that one of his hands is spread in your hair, and the other is grabbing the back of your shirt.

You’re holding yourself up with one hand, but the other is just kind of flitting around his side without much to do. That is, until you get what you believe to be your single greatest idea in the history of paradox space. You let your hand slide down his side, then move it down under the waistline of his pants. John is holding his breath until you reach his dick and rub…when he lets out the breath in a long, shuddering sigh.

At this point, you don’t care who’s wearing the fancy pajamas, you are definitely a god right now. He grinds up into your hand, rubbing it into your own dick. You let out a groan of manly aplomb, and John’s face lights up like he’s got an idea even greater than your own. When he brings his hands down to your waist and starts unbuttoning your pants, you really have to agree with him. It is a great plan.

You’re saying nonsense like, “Yes, fantastic, right,” and you don’t even care, while John’s busy gasping unintelligibly. You sink your head down onto his shoulder, because the only hand you’ve ever had on your dick is your own, and there’s no way that this is going to last very long at all. You take his dick out of his pants and fit it against your own, because if you’re going down then there’s no way you’re not going to take him down with you. He seems to appreciate the sentiment, and soon you’re both grasping each other, rubbing yourselves together and working toward the admirable common goal of getting yourselves off.

You manage to settle in to a rhythm, but it doesn’t last long as John’s movements become more erratic. He gasps, “Fuck,” his hand stutters, and that’s about as much warning as you get before his whole body jolts and he’s coming all over you. You really should find this whole situation a little strange, as you’re not one to have illicit relations with paradox clones on an everyday basis, but you really don’t. In fact, you find it so not-strange that you’re coming seconds after him, which you are determined to only feel mildly ashamed about afterwards. You thought you had it in you to at least last a little bit longer as per your strapping constitution. However, today seems to be the day for slightly embarrassing, or at least unexpected, revelations about yourself.

You roll off of John, and lie on the ground next to him. You should get up immediately and go shower yourself off, if you wait too long clean-up is going to be an absolute nightmare. But John doesn’t look like he’s ready to head off yet either, and you’d like some time to catch your breath. He looks over at you, his eyes wide, and you think, “Oh crap. Here it comes.” Instead freaking out like you expected, he just gives you that wide, toothy smile. The one that is almost, but not quite, your own.

“I don’t know where you learned how to wrestle, but I have to admit, it was pretty fun!” He pulls up his pants, grimaces, and then jumps up. “I’m gonna go take a shower. See you around, Jake!”

He practically bounces out of the room while you’re still lying on the floor. As you get up and ready to leave, you figure your theory about testing John’s mettle was a pretty rousing success.

You just hope he might be up for another round later.