Eddie Blake was sixteen years old, and like any healthy sixteen-year-old, he had a healthy sex drive and often spent his free time acting on that. But, seeing as his sights were set entirely on the beautiful, unattainable Sally Jupiter, that time was spent by himself, taking care of things on his own.
He hoped that one of these days, their flirtation would be a little more than just that, and that he'd finally have a real chance at her, rather than just the images of her he conjured up while he was alone. But until he actually managed to pursue something beyond what they had now, his fantasies were all he had to go on, and his hand was all he had to aid him.
Sitting on the side of his bed, he stared down at the newspaper clipping he had in his free hand. It was a rather flattering shot of Sally that he had held onto for a while now, and it had gotten him through many nights like this. She was beautiful in the photo, and it always got him started, but it was never long before he dropped it, in favor of closing his eyes and relying on his imagination.
After all, a black and white, slightly blurred image didn't do her much justice, but his imagination was vivid and he saw her nearly every day. When he had let of the picture and leaned back on his bed, he could see her in his mind, plain as day. Winking at him, giggling at one of his jokes, prancing around in that tiny little dress of hers...it drove him absolutely wild.
He moaned under his breath, imagining her approaching him, that coy smile on her face, this time meant just for him. She would reach him and drop to her knees in front of him without a word, just that teasing look on her face. And then she would suck him off, and he had a hard time filling in the blanks of what it would actually feel like, but he was sure it would feel great because how could it not?
His imagination was vivid, but it wasn't vivid enough to create something he'd never experienced before. Still, that was not something that deterred him much; his hand felt good enough that he could forget it was his doing or that that definitely wasn't what a mouth would feel like. And anyway, he didn't fantasize about her sucking him off the whole time, he liked to think about other things to.
He liked to think about her standing up and undressing for him, slowly to tease him, and he may not know what she looked like undressed, but he had enough images of other women to fill in the blanks. Once she was stripped, she'd undress him completely, pushing him down onto his back and climbing on top of him.
At that point, his fantasy became a broke series of images as he lost himself to sensation, his hand pumping away at his cock, getting him closer and closer. He never lasted long after that, and he grunted, almost there, and every time he reached his climax, everything would fade away until all that was left was a simple image of Sally, posed in her costume and beaming for a photo op of some sort.
Except tonight, instead Sally, it was Nite Owl. It was Hollis Mason, in those damn shorts of his, in that damn ridiculous costume of his, with that kind, proud smile on his face, looking like he'd just saved the day and not like he had just interrupted Eddie's fantasies, an unwanted guest when he was just about to finish.
But then he did finish, with a sharp, surprised moan as he came, despite the fact that he had been picturing Hollis fucking Mason.
Eddie didn't know what the hell that had been about. He didn't know why he had thought of Hollis when he had been thinking about Sally, and he really didn't know why that hadn't stopped him short, why he had finished anyway, as if nothing had been wrong. It didn't make any sense; he wasn't like that. He knew that he wasn't, there was absolutely no way.
He had barely slept the night before, trying to get the thought out of his head and failing, and he was exhausted now, making his way to the Minutemen meeting. His mind was still on it, even now, but there was just no way to excuse what had happened. He was no stranger to the idea of that sort of thing. Nelson and Hooded Justice had kept their secret for a while, but he had figured them out easily enough, even if the rest hadn't. He was well aware that there were men who did that, but he was not one of them and he never would be.
So why had he thought about Hollis? He let out a groan, contemplating turning right around and heading home- he didn't know how he would react to actually seeing the man in person. But if he let it bother him that much then it would mean it was a serious problem, and he refused to let it be one. He would face Nite Owl like it was nothing, because it was nothing and he wasn't some goddamned faggot who got off on thinking about men. It had been a mistake. It didn't mean anything.
“Comedian? Are you paying attention?”
Eddie snapped out of his thoughts to see Larry giving him a disappointed stare. He was used to that look from any member of the team and normally he would smirk and make some quip, but today he only mumbled, “Sure I am.”
“Well, you seem pretty distracted,” the older man replied, with a look that said he didn't believe Eddie at all.
The worst part of it was not that he hadn't been paying attention, but that he had- only he hadn't been paying attention to what he was supposed to. Hollis had been helping Larry and Nelson with a presentation on a change in strategy that they were going to try, and his eyes had been drawn to the man more times than he could count.
At first, he had only looked to prove himself that it didn't affect him, but the instant he had, his face had heated up in a blush and he had glanced away quickly, guiltily. Then, his eyes were drawn back, again and again, and before he knew it, he was staring, and he couldn't quite say why. He clenched one of his fists, trying to take his mind off of this, whatever the hell it was.
And he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and he bit the inside of his lip, and he tried to think about something else, anything else, because it was not the first time that afternoon that he had felt his cock twitch, and he had barely looked at Sally. He had spent almost the entirety of the meeting staring at Nite Owl's ass.
It didn't mean a damn thing. It just didn't! He growled and kicked at his bedpost and threw a fist at the mattress which dipped every so slightly under the pressure, but otherwise did not give.
He wasn't a fucking queer! No way in hell was he, he into Sally like every other decent man in America, and this was all some fucked up mistake. He didn't like men, not in that way, and he sure as hell didn't like Hollis in that way, and that was final. Eddie would not accept anything else and he growled again, sitting down on his bed heavily and yanking open the drawer of his bedside table.
He brought out his favorite picture of Sally and went to work, his hand jerking angrily at first, but soon he lost himself to his usual fantasies and found his old rhythm, and everything was as it should be. Like always, he put the picture down and laid back and imagined her sucking him off, her stripping for him, her fucking him, and everything was as it should be. He was almost there in no time like always, and everything was as it should be.
Until he thought of Hollis again.