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Being Responsible Was Never Hotter

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There are two things wrong with Spencer's argument. One: Freddie is pretty sure that by "learn to be a responsible adult", his mom didn't mean "drop your pants over at the Shays' place and let Carly's big brother play with your dick". (Not that she would have called it a dick; but Freddie feels silly thinking his mother's kiddie-friendly word for the male apparatus while there's a grown man stroking him to erection.) Two: Spencer and 'responsible' doesn't always occur to others as more than an oxymoronic statement. ("Did you just call me a moron?" Spencer joked, when Freddie said as much. "Hey. A little respect for the guy jacking you off.")

Actually, come to think of that, there are three problems with Spencer's argument that this is a valid way to teach Freddie how to have safe sex.

"I feel stupid," Freddie whines, wishing oh-so-much that he didn't sound like he is whining. He's standing half-naked in the middle of Carly Shay's kitchen, his jeans and boxers pooled at his foot (there will be no end to his suffering if the girls walk in on them like this; Carly will freak out about Freddie and Spencer, but other than a smirking, "Way to go, Fredward!" Sam will almost certainly ignore the context of her disscovery in order to devote as much attention to the ridicule of Freddie's undershorts as possible.)(Freddie can hear her voice already: "Oh, Freddie. Did you let your mom pick those out for you? You did, didn't you? Spencer, you're my hero. You're my hero now and forever. And how about that irony, huh? Little Nemo underpants hiding that.")

Maybe Freddie's being optimistic about that last part, but Spencer doesn't seem to think that Freddie is lacking in the size department.

"Don't feel stupid," Spencer says, doing something with his wrist that Freddie can feel in his thighs, his balls and his ass, like's there's this ripcord located in his dick - 'PULL FOR FULL BODY PLEASURE' - and Spencer is lightly tugging on it, seeing if it'll give. "Learning to use a condom is an important step in a young man's sex life. It's the first step, you hear me, mister?"

Freddie squirms. He doesn't know if it makes this more awkward, or more hot, that, apparently, Spencer never stops being Spencer. Even with the tip of Freddie's dick leaking tiny droplets of cum onto the curl of Spencer's fist, smearing sticky strings across Spencer's palm. Even with Spencer own dick rising to attention inside the front of his tight jeans.

"I even have a saying for it...," Spencer reveals. "'No Box 'Til I'm Wearing My Cock Sock'."

"That's terrible," Freddie can't lie.

But he doesn't sound too bothered. Spencer is jerking on him now, from one angle and then another, and Freddie's hands are fisting at his sides. Freddie feels ten degrees warmer than he had when he had his pants on. He's sweating, his knees are shaking.

Okay, so there are four things wrong with what Spencer had told him before they started this. ("It's not that hard. Unless it's not really hard... Get it? Okay, okay, sorry. But really, it's a piece of cake, man! Come over tonight while Sam and Carly are at Build-a-Bra. I'll show you.") ("Wouldn't that be... kind of gay?" Freddie asked, not meaning to imply there being anything wrong with being gay - he hasn't yet made a definite decision about what is right for him, sexually. "What! No," Spencer replied, making a 'pfft' sound with his lips. "We'll just get you up, I'll teach you how to get one on, and then we'll be done. It's not like we'll be having sex or anything. We don't even have to do it in a bedroom.") Surely Freddie is hard enough by now for the practical demonstration phase of this evening to begin. And if they're not going to have sex next, then what are they going to do? Go their separate ways and masturbate til their hard-ons can't move furniture?

'Yes, Freddie. That's exactly what a normal couple of straight guys would do,' Freddie thinks. ' Especially if one of them was THIRTEEN YEARS OLDER than the other.'

But obviously Freddie isn't exactly straight. Spencer has never exactly been normal. And Freddie could ask- A stack of small, foil packets - some opened, some not (they practiced rolling and unrolling some condoms before this) - lies on the kitchen table. Freddie could ask if they could just move on. ("Couldn't we just practice on some, I don't know. Bananas or cucumbers or something?" Freddie asked when the condoms came out. "Have you seen organically grown fruits and veggies, Fredster?" Spencer replied. "I'm not giving you your first size issues. And art classes use live models. Sex is an art, so so will we.")

But Spencer's hand feels like heaven. Freddie's never had another person touch him like this, and when he looks down at Spencer, Spencer is studying the dick in his hand like it's one of his sculptures, the absolute center of his attention and the potential for any number of brilliant innovations.

"Can w- Can you- Spencer..." comes out of Freddie's mouth when he tries to speak.

"Huh?" Spencer doesn't even look up. He does another one of those wrist-things and Freddie yelps.

Spencer laughs like he's won a prize out of an impossible-to-beat crane machine. "Ooh, well, I guess that didn't feel stupid," he says happily.

If he weren't already burning up, Freddie's sure that his face would be on fire. But he can't worry about that now.

Now that some part of Freddie - some primal, need-driven part (should such a part in Freddie exist) has accepted the idea of Spencer's hand on his cock for more than just practical purposes... (Which, let's be honest, were probably just an excuse for Spencer to get into Freddie's pants.)(Not that Spencer would see it in such a crude way.) Freddie can think of nothing else.

"Spencer, please!" Freddie begs, before he's even clarified what he's begging for.

Luckily, Spencer already seems to know. "It's okay, Freddie. I've got you," Spencer says, sounding as sincere as Freddie's ever heard him. "Sit down."

Freddie is vaguely aware that it is Spencer's usual chair at the kitchen table that he pulls out and seats Freddie in. He is vaguely aware that he will never be able to eat at this table again without picturing Spencer kneeling down in front of him with a wink and a grin. His skin makes an obsene sound against the chair's vinyl as Spencer moves his ass around, trying to get Freddie into just the right position before going back to work on him. But Freddie can't care about any of that when Spencer picks up a condom packet and tears it open with his teeth. Spencer presses the rubber coin against the head of Freddie's dick with one hand while holding the shaft steady with the other, and Freddie is glad that Spencer doesn't expect him to put the condom on himself. His hands are shaking too hard to roll out a blanket much less a tiny column of latex.

Spencer finishes sheathing Freddie's erection and then takes his hand away - that strong, slender, artistic, amazing hand - and bends as if he means to replace it with his even more amazing mouth.

"Oh, oh god, oh god, yes, Spencer!"

And just the anticipation of what Spencer is about to do to him is enough. Freddie begins to come, whimpering helplessly as his straining dick jerks and bobs between his paralyzed legs.

Spencer grips him tight again, gently stroking him through the condom and his orgasm, and Freddie can't make out all of what Spencer is saying in the meantime.

But he clearly hears Spencer say, "And... that would be another great reason to wear a condom. Jizz does not feel good in the eye."

"Aw, man, I'm so sorry!" Freddie pants, imagining what would have happened if he'd lost it before Spencer had finished rolling the condom on. The euphoria begins to fade and humiliation threatens to set in.

But Spencer doesn't let it. "No biggie!" Spencer insists, "We've still got a bunch more to practice with..."

Freddie's heart picks up even more at the thought of coming like that once for every unopened package on the table...

And what's left of his cognizant mind notices the first glimmer of self-consciousness, of hesitation, in Spencer's eyes.

"And more than one model to practice on," Freddie says, letting his eyes drop quite obviously to the bulge in Spencer's jeans.

Spencer's face lights up like one of his own Christmas trees. "That we do!" he says, and Freddie doesn't think he's ever heard Spencer's voice sound so husky, so... sexy.

Freddie's not entirely sure he'll know what to do with another man's dick when Spencer takes him back to Spencer's bedroom and reveal his.

But he trusts Spencer to teach him. A thorough lesson is the least that a responsible instructor can provide.