As the day wound down to an end, Eric Harris shuffled into his family home as quietly and as unsuspecting as he could manage. With a suspension notice in his back pocket, he had hoped that he could just pass it off as a permission slip without facing the wrath of his father. Regardless, his forming black eye and bruised cheek was enough to give away the day’s events.
Finally, he had fought back.
After years of withstanding the daily storm that consisted of white baseball caps and tyrannous acts against him, Eric had decided that enough was enough. Of course, it wasn’t because of anything that had happened to him. He put himself on the line for the only other person who knew and had first-hand experience of the misdeeds, Dylan.
The same routine happened every day. Eric would walk along with Dylan to Video and a group of jersey-clad meatheads would come stomping through the hall, shoving Eric into a set of lockers and tripping Dylan so that he stumbled. Usually, Dylan would be able to catch himself and stay up, but this day, he was knocked down to his knees. A roar of laughter from the group made Eric livid.
Pushing himself off the lockers, Eric threw a punch at the one who tripped Dylan.
The group ‘ooh’d and jeered at this. Dylan watched in horror as he tried to decipher the noise, whether it came from Eric’s knuckle or the dude’s jaw. This started a fight between Eric and the jock, the others stepping aside to let one of their own have their way with Eric. Dylan was frozen in fear until he heard the echoing steps of high heels coming from around the corner.
Scrambling away in fear, Dylan left Eric behind to fight his own battle. He threw himself into the door leading to the bathroom the opposite way, escaping a trip to the office. Behind him, he heard the shrill yelling of the hall monitor who had caught Eric and the jock in the act of beating each other up.
Eric and the other student plus the group were sent to the principal to await their trial and judgement. The fact that it was a no-tolerance procedure meant that both Eric and the jock would face the consequences. Suffering a week’s suspension from school and being sent home early, Eric shuffled out of the office. Passing the jock as he headed for the exit, he heard a scoff, “Faggot.”
Eric decided that the last word didn’t matter this time.
Once inside the home, door closed, Eric could hear the phone ring and his father answer. He winced at his father’s outburst towards the person on the phone. Then he heard Wayne stomping down the stairs.
‘No TV, no going out, and no phone calls,’ Eric could hear his father’s firm and stoic voice echo in his head. ‘You will drive to and from work and that’s it. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Eric. First you come home high, then you get into trouble with the law, and now this? This is your final warning. This is going to stop starting tonight.’
Despite the threats, Eric still snuck out of his bedroom to grab the wireless phone. Even if he was pissed off at Dylan for being a coward, Eric dialed the numbers to Dylan’s massive mobile phone, knowing that Dylan would be up. He settled himself upon his bed and sat against his pillows, wincing as he pressed the phone to his face. The phone rang once, twice, three times before Dylan answered.
“Hey,” Eric said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. “It’s me.”
“Thank God,” Dylan sighed in relief. “I thought you were murdered.”
“I almost was,” Eric exhaled angrily.
Dylan swallowed and cleared his throat knowing the inevitable was to come, “What’s the damage?”
“A black eye and a week’s worth of suspension,” Eric replied, but quickly changed the subject. He wanted his answers, now. “Why’d you just leave me back there, man? You’re supposed to be my- Ugh! You’re just supposed to be there!”
“What, and get my ass kicked too?”
“No, I thought you’d back me up,” Eric retaliated, hurt by Dylan’s negation of his feelings. “Even if it meant getting your ass kicked.”
Dylan stayed quiet. If Eric wasn’t his best friend anymore, guilt was. He hated himself for abandoning Eric the way he did, but in the moment he had no choice. Why couldn’t Eric understand that? It wasn’t his fight, he didn’t start it. He was ready to just walk away, avoid the conflict. Dylan almost asked why, but for some reason, he knew it had something to do with him.
“Fuck it,” Eric sighed in frustration. “I’m over it.”
It was obvious to Dylan that he wasn’t, but he didn’t question it. Questioning Eric was like questioning God, he had his divine plan and whatever happens is because he says so, and he knows what’s right. If you disagree, then fuck you, suffer the consequences.
“Anyway,” Eric began once again. What he really wanted to do was tear Dylan a new one for being a fucking pussy. “You should’ve seen the look on my dad’s face when he had to sign that fucking paper they sent me home with. His bitch ass grounded me. Can you believe that?”
Dylan, relieved by the aversion of an argument, made a disgusted noise, “I can, actually. I’d hate to be you right now.”
“I already do.”
Another silence was shared. Dylan felt sorry for Eric, and he felt sorry for himself too. He could have done so much more for Eric, and he failed. He faltered as a friend and even more so as a partner, which tore him apart. His mind went back to the scene of Eric on the ground before he ran away. He squeezed his eyes shut and mouthed a curse at his intrusive thought.
Eric still mentally nursed his own wound of Dylan’s abandonment from earlier. If Dylan was going to run away, he would’ve dropped him a long time ago. But other things were keeping them together. For instance, their drunken makeout sessions and morning jerk-offs. Eric felt goosebumps across his skin at the thoughts.
Neither of them said anything but they knew the other was on the line, trying to think of something to say, breathing.
“I, uh,” Dylan dallied awkwardly, “Guess this means we can’t hang out, huh?”
“We’ll see each other at work and shit but it’s not like we can do anything fun,” Eric lamented.
Dylan got curious, “Fun?”
“Oh, you know,” Eric enunciated. “Fun.”
“Wow,” Dylan rolled his eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Oh, come the fuck on, V, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Eric defended. “I mean, you know… Just sucks I can’t mess with your hair or kiss your neck or squeeze your-”
“Stop, stop, stop,” Dylan interrupted. “It’s just a week, Reb. You’ll be released before you know it and free to do whatever it is you damn well please as long as you’re home by ten.”
“Oh, come on,” Eric whined. “Amuse me, Vodka. Don’t be a prude.”
Dylan growled, “Dude, you’re fucked. Hell no.”
“You’re always mouthing off to me about how I never talk about my feelings. Well, I feel like having some sex,” Eric stated without shame.
Dylan could already feel himself grow in his pajama bottoms. He hated the circumstances. Then again, maybe there was another way to get his fix. Knowing exactly what Eric was thinking, yet still playing oblivious, he asked, “Care to elaborate on how we’ll accomplish that?”
Eric huffed, “Phone sex, dummy.”
“Fuck no, dude, how depraved can you be?” Dylan cringed. He wasn’t expecting that answer. Wasn’t phone sex for poor losers who couldn’t get any in real life, so they pay five bucks a minute to get off to some chick in a cubicle? “I thought you meant sneaking out and meeting up somewhere.”
“Please?” Eric started to beg, switching the phone to his other ear to leave his dominant hand free. “Besides you know I’m on thin ice with my dad. Just try it with me. Come on, V.”
Silence, once again, thick with sexual tension. Eric played with the zipper on his jeans as he waited for Dylan to say something, anything. Whether Dylan was going to give in or not, he wasn’t sure, he was definitely going to jerk off one way or the other. Dylan was chewing on the inside of his cheek, angry at Eric’s endless fucking ideas.
Fucking dildo, Dylan thought to himself before saying, “Fine, whatever, but if I wanna stop, we stop, got it?”
“Oh, shit, absolutely,” Eric promised. “But I highly doubt you’re gonna wanna stop this.”
Fuck, Dylan thought. He felt himself growing harder at Eric’s words. He sighed audibly into the receiver, “Yeah, okay.”
“Besides,” Eric continued. “You fuckin’ owe me.”
“I do, don’t I?” Dylan said with a hint of a whine in his voice, the way he knew Eric went crazy for. Pulling his pajamas down to his thighs, he massaged himself through his boxers and swallowed, feeling almost appalled that he was the one starting this showdown. “I should make it up to you, huh?”
Eric smirked, “Yeah, yeah you should.” Satisfied with his score, he held the phone between his ear and shoulder, undoing his pants and lifting his hips to get them off. Throbbing with excitement already, he buried his fingers under the waistband of his own underwear and pulled them down, getting comfortable. Cock swelling, he gave himself a harsh squeeze. “I think a blowjob would be a good start.”
Dylan let out a shaky laugh, “I bet. At first I’d slowly put my mouth over your head, swirling my tongue around it… Then, I’d slowly work my way down, pressing my tongue against the underside.”
“Fuck, yes,” Eric shuddered. He spat into his hand and lowered it back down to his crotch, rubbing it all over himself. Suddenly, sneaking out didn’t seem like such a bad idea. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine his wet hand was Dylan’s sweet mouth, rubbing his sticky palm over his sensitive head. “Damn, V…”
“I’d look up at you as I tighten my lips around your shaft and start to bob my head,” Dylan continued somewhat sultrily, trying to be as sexy as he could. Describing a blowjob was kind of hard and really weird, but Eric seemed to enjoy it. Plus, he couldn’t deny that he was getting off on it too. A wet spot was forming on the front of his garment. “I’d just be slobbering all over your cock, Reb… Would that make it all better?”
“Damn right it would,” Eric grunted softly, now keeping a moderate pace. “You’re a fuckin’ slut, you know that, V?”
“Only for you, sweetheart,” Dylan responded, going out of character for a moment. He felt ridiculous playing this game with Eric, but he felt a type of power in giving him what he wanted. That just made him even harder. He lowered his waistband, releasing himself from the confines of the elastic cloth. “How about we skip to the good part? Don’t you wanna fuck me too?”
“Yes, yes,” Eric said breathlessly. His member throbbed in his hand at the thought of plunging deep into Dylan’s hole. Gripping the phone tightly against his ear, Eric spoke lowly with a hint of aggression, “I’d ram my dick into you until you were in tears.”
Dylan felt himself twitch, his cock stiff and leaking against his stomach. He took hold of himself and ran his thumb over the head, spreading the precum. A sharp sense of arousal shot up his spine at the thought of Eric pounding into him senselessly. Shuddering and letting out a small moan he began to speak again,”And I’d be so loud you’d have to cover my mouth with your hand… Dammit, Reb, I wish you were here right now.”
“If you knew any better you’d know that that’s a bad idea, Dylan,” Eric chuckled. He bit his lip and bucked his hips upward, hating that he didn’t have Dylan to have sex with, or tease, or downright torture. Picking up a faster rhythm and twisting his wrist, he huffed out, “You know damn well you wouldn’t be able to control yourself around me at this point. Maybe it’s better that you suffer from afar instead of me tormenting you myself.”
“What if I want you to?” Dylan asked, pouting but adding a touch of sweetness. He could almost see Eric’s cock jump in his hand, and he smiled. Licking his lips, he thought about past encounters, ones where Eric would only respond to ‘Sir’ and desperate pleas. Creating his own quickened pace, he ground his teeth and hissed out, “I want you to fuck me up, Sir. Spit on me, choke me, cum deep inside me.”
Eric hated and loved Dylan in that very moment. If he could, he would do every single one of those things and more if so pleased. He knew that Dylan wouldn’t dare deny him his release, no matter the lengths he took to get there. He felt a familiar warmth enveloping itself around his body. Frantically jerking himself off, he furrowed his brows and let out a gasp, “Fuck, V, I’m gonna cum. Oh, fuck- shit- dammit- I’m gonna cum so fucking deep inside you, you’ll feel it for weeks you fucking whore…!”
Dylan stifled a laugh and turned it into a moan that sounded wanting and hot. He continued to work himself, trying to reach the same peak that Eric was at. He could hear Eric mumbling something harshly, a sign that he was getting ready to burst. More thoughts of Eric having his way with him clouded Dylan’s mind and he clenched his jaw, feeling his muscles tense with the anticipation of his orgasm.
First came Eric, then Dylan. Eric let out a strained groan right from his gut, trembling and getting his hand and stomach very, very dirty. Dylan hissed out Eric’s name as he rode his out, rocking his hips and curling his toes into the sheets. At the end of it all, both were spent and pleased to the core. There was a sense of tranquility and a quietness that wasn’t awkward between the two teens.
Taking a deep breath, Eric broke the silence, “Thanks, V.”
Dylan sighed, content, “Yeah. Anything for you, Reb.”
“I guess I forgive you.”