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Gasping for air, Steve stared up into French's familiar face, red with anger, and suddenly remembered a time when they'd been friends and their fighting had been playful.

Struggling to get free, Steve became all too aware of the weight of French's Lacrosse-toned body straddling him, and even as he tried to pull oxygen into his lungs, his own body betrayed him. From the widening of French's eyes he knew that he'd felt the rapid hardening of Steve's cock, yet despite the rush of humiliation, Steve's arousal remained unabated.

At least the pressure against Steve's neck had lessened in the wake of French's surprise, but he remained frozen atop him, and for a mortifying minute they simply stared at each other.

French shifted, and Steve couldn't help it, the movement of his hips sent zings of pleasure racing through him. He bit his lip, trying to hold back a moan, but the gesture only caused French's eyes to dart down to his mouth. Brown eyes darkened as French set his jaw in determination, and anticipation uncurled deep inside Steve's body, made him lift trembling hands to French's thighs.

Strong muscles clenched under his touch, and then French's mouth was hard against his, almost bruising, yet the kiss lacked the violent streak of their earlier fight. Arching his body, Steve sought and found friction, and an answering hardness pressing against his.

Steve had never considered doing anything like this with another guy, yet it felt surprisingly natural to surrender to the warmth that was French, Alfonso, simultaneously hard and soft. It was too much, somehow, and, cursing, Steve pushed the other boy away, scrambling to his feet.

He felt cold, both from the loss of contact and from the hurt look in Alfonso's eyes, but maybe that was what he deserved.