Part three arrives, and with it so many questions. Just what are Shaun and Jacob to each other? Is this merely a hook-up or something more? What was that screaming coming from your father's woodshed? I can't promise you answers, but you should probably read the story anyway.
As always, don't read this if you shouldn't. Consider donating to Nifty if you can afford to. Drop me an email or a message through my poor neglected tumblr (https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/) if you liked the story.
Oh, and while fictional boys in made-up stories may not need to worry about safe sex, you do.
-Alex P (alexp336)
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EIGHTEEN by Alex Pendragon - Part 3
"Are you out of your fucking mind?"
Call ID may have spoiled the surprise before I even answered, but Carl clearly wasn't leaving the hyperbole to chance.
"Probably," I told him, "but what have I done now?"
There's a way a sufficiently frustrated person can inject an otherwise regular silence with clear indication that they're exasperated. Carl was a master at it.
"You can't start dating a rent boy."
I frowned, even though he couldn't see me do it. "What happened to "just a couple of guys who are friendly," eh?"
His splutter of disbelief suggested my memory of our conversation did not quite tally with his.
"How can you be so naive, Shaun." It was, despite phrasing, clearly a statement rather than a question, so I didn't bother trying to answer it. "Don't you think you're a little young to be a sugar daddy?"
I chuckled at that. "I'm pretty sure I'd be paying more if that were the case, Carl."
"You took him out to dinner," he said, tone accusing. I laughed again.
"I've bought you dinner before, unless I'm mistaken. Does that make me your 'sugar daddy' too?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Carl huffed, "you know exactly what I'm talking about."
Sighing, I rubbed a hand across my eyes, suddenly keen for this particular conversation to be over.
"Look, we ate a meal together. We had sex. No, we're not dating; no, I'm not planning to propose to him. It was fun, but nothing serious, so stop trying to make it something it isn't, okay?"
He grunted again and then - with a final "don't say I didn't warn you" - hung up on me.
"Sugar daddy" certainly seemed laughable as a suggestion for the dynamic between Jacob and I. Sure, I'd bought him dinner, but for most people that's what they'd call a date. It's not like he'd asked for anything more, or even seemed like he expected it. Instead we'd gone from the meal to some seriously hot, no-strings sex, and I had no complaints about that, either.
We may have both dozed for a few minutes after he'd finished fucking me, Jacob's body draped across mine as his cock gradually softened. When he finally sat up and glanced at the clock on my nightstand, it was with a wince.
"Another school night?" I'd asked. He'd grimaced in reply.
"And an early start tomorrow, too."
I'd pulled a face, then watched as he levered himself up off me. "Do you want to shower?"
Jacob had smiled at me. "Were you planning on joining me?"
I'd taken it as an invitation and, if that's not what he'd had in mind, Jacob was polite enough not to disabuse me of the notion. Instead, we shared a shower almost chastely, taking it in turns to step beneath the water while the other soaped himself, and only joining for a brief, careless kiss.
"You can stay if you want... I mean, if it's easier," I'd offered, but Jacob had shook his head.
"Thanks," he'd told me, "but I should probably make a move. I'd only have to go pick up my stuff and a change of clothes in the morning anyway."
I'd called him a Lyft instead, then, and - as we waited a few minutes by the front door - stood in unexpectedly awkward silence together.
"Thank you for dinner," Jacob said, eventually. I'd nodded, smiled.
"My pleasure. And thanks for... well."
He'd grinned at me, clearly knowing exactly what I was referring to.
"I had fun." Then, leaning in so that his lips were so close to my ear I could feel the warmth of his breath on me, "and I still think you taste incredible."
I'd still been blushing when the car pulled away.
Obsessed is a strong word, so let's just say that I was preoccupied by thoughts of Jacob the next day. Sat at my desk, faced with an inbox full of emails I had no desire to sift through, my mind kept drifting back to how the evening had gone.
It's not like I hadn't had great sex before. Or fairly rough sex, for that matter. Maybe my love life hadn't been the most inspiring thing over the past, well, year or two... maybe three. But I was still no blushing virgin.
All the same, what stood out - and what I kept running through my head when I should've been making calls and finishing spreadsheets - were the two extremes with Jacob. We'd gone from rough to tender with hardly a gap, and neither had seemed forced, or artificial, or even awkward. That slow, insistent grind of our bodies as he'd languidly fucked my brains out felt just as natural as pinning his head against the mattress and reaming his throat.
For the tenth, perhaps eleventh time, I picked up my phone, unlocked it, and stared at my last text conversation with him. Part of me wanted to thumb out a message straight away; the more conservative side felt like that would only seem too needy and insistent, neither of which were either flattering or, frankly, quite how I was feeling.
Rationally, I knew that. In reality, I found myself stabbing at the keys.
"Carl thinks I'm your sugar daddy," I wrote then, before I could overthink it too much, hit send. After a moment staring at the phone, willing the "read" indicator to appear, I forced myself to lock it and put it down on the desk.
It's not like what I'd said to Carl was false. Jacob and I weren't serious, and we certainly weren't dating. What was going on between us was, for the most part, physical attraction, maybe with some top-level personal curiosity thrown in for added spice. And, even if we were sexually compatible and could keep a conversation going over dinner, that was a far way from anything more long-term.
So, it probably wasn't especially becoming quite how fast I snatched up my phone when I heard the new-message tone.
"Ha," Jacob had written, "I'm not sure who he has a worse opinion of, you or me."
"I got a stern talking to," I sent back. "I feel suitably chastened."
"As you should, taking advantage of a poor boy," he replied. "Or am I taking advantage of you? It's so hard to keep up."
I chuckled, then glanced around to see if anybody had heard me.
"I'm happy with some mutual advantage-taking," I told him. "If you are."
I got a photo in reply. Jacob, seemingly in a lecture hall with rows of bored looking students behind him. His expression was, frankly, suggestive.
Opening the camera app, I spent a minute or two trying to make myself look presentable on-screen before sending a picture in response. "I'll take that as a yes," I added.
"What else will you take?" he fired back, moments later.
"Whatever you can give," I responded.
Another picture. This time Jacob looking thoughtful.
"Pick me up after class?"
I glanced up at the clock on the wall, then felt dumb because the time was right at the top of my phone screen. Old habits.
"Sure. What time?"
"Is 3:30 too early?"
The thought of being able to get out of the office sooner meant I'd probably have agreed to anything. I fired back a "fine by me!" and settled down to clock-watch.
In the end, I was probably twenty minutes early. The parking lot was surprisingly busy, and so I sent Jacob a text telling him whereabouts the car was. Opening up a book on my phone, I settled in to wait.
Next thing I realized, the door opened and Jacob - wearing a short-sleeved polo which I couldn't help but notice clung tightly to the contours of his torso - slipped into the passenger seat. Backpack dumped unceremoniously into the footwell. I glanced across in greeting, only to find myself making eye contact with a girl bending to look in through the open window, with a suspicious look on her face.
"Oh," she said, breaking her gaze at me to look knowingly at Jacob. "I see how it is."
Jacob rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her. "`Bye Sandra," he said, pointedly. She raised an eyebrow and then walked off.
I took the opportunity to look him over again. Skinny black jeans and that dark red shirt that seemed like it was fighting with his chest, which clearly wanted to escape. A pair of sunglasses hooked into the collar and dangling down between his pecs.
"I feel like I'm doing the school run," I admitted.
"You kinda are," he replied, with a smirk. I groaned, resting my forehead against the steering wheel melodramatically.
"Hey, you either hate it or you embrace it," he told me. When I turned my head to look at him, he had his half-hard cock out and was waggling it in his lap, a goofy grin spread across his face. There were clearly people walking through the parking lot, either side of the cars, and I started in surprise.
"Christ! Are you trying to get us arrested?"
He threw his head back and laughed, but at least he also tucked his dick away too.
"But officer, the man told me to whip it out," he pantomimed, mimicking a childish voice and a wide-eyed, innocent expression. I scowled at him.
"You want to walk, that's it, is it?"
Jacob looked smug. "You wouldn't."
I tried to fix him with my very coldest glare. "Why don't you try me," I challenged.
His expression turned lustful. "Why don't I ride your cock instead."
My glare swiftly evaporated. "Deal," I chuckled, and put the car in gear.
It was the first time I'd really seen Jacob in daylight, and I found myself stealing glances of him out of the corner of my eye as I drove. The radio wasn't on, but it didn't seem to matter; he was humming along to whatever music was playing in his head, tapping the door and his knee to the rhythm. When he finally caught on to my glances, he grinned at me.
"What are you looking at?"
I shrugged, a little awkward at having been caught. "You, I guess."
"You've seen me before, you realize."
I rolled my eyes at him. "So should I just close my eyes, then?"
He mimed clinging onto the grab-handles in desperation. "Can't see how your driving would be any worse," he teased. I scowled.
"Again, walking remains an option," I pointed out. Jacob's expression was smug.
"Yeah, but then you don't get to pound this sweet teen ass, do you."
He had a point.
Little more than a mile down the road, and his hand was on my thigh, sneaking up my leg.
"What're you doing?" I asked him. Jacob smirked.
"Talking about you pounding my ass made me horny. Can I play with your dick?"
I sighed. That sounded great, certainly, but crashing into a ditch didn't.
"Not while I'm driving, okay?"
His frown was clear. "How about I suck it then?"
"I'm not sure how you think that's going to be less distracting."
He bounced in his seat, obstinate. I almost thought I saw a pout.
"Why don't you pull over then?"
I glanced at him again, slightly incredulously. "What, so we can get arrested for indecent behavior on the side of the road? Anyway, I though you were hungry."
Jacob's smirk was the picture of lascivious. "Oh, I am..."
There was no doubt as to what he wanted to feast on.
"Are you always this horny after class?" I asked him, curious.
He pawed absent-mindedly at his crotch. "Are you always this reluctant to get a blow job?" I chuckled. It did seem pretty weird, finding reasons not to let a hot guy touch me.
"Does it make a difference if I tell you I'm wearing Calvin Klein briefs?" he suggested, voice low and seductive. "You can see them if you like."
I silently cursed Carl for sharing that particular little peccadillo of mine with what was turning out to be a boy-nymphomaniac. Not that the thought of his body wrapped in clinging underwear was doing much for my resolve.
"I'm sure they look very good on you," I told him. Jacob sighed.
"I'm driving with a monk," he complained, sitting back and crossing his arms in frustration. I tried to stifle my grin.
"Look," I conceded, after a half mile or so of his annoyed silence, "how about a deal. We pick up food now, because I didn't have lunch and I'm starving, and then we go to my place."
Jacob looked at me sidelong. "Are you trying to seduce me or something?"
I stared at him in confusion. "A minute ago you were trying to bury your face in my lap!" He giggled, all attempts at being serious forgotten.
"Gotcha. Man, you might have to eat your lunch off my back while you fuck me, though. I need some action already!"
"Deal," I told him, rolling my eyes.
For someone who seemed more concerned about fucking than food, Jacob still had an unexpected list of requirements when it came to what we should pick up. After what felt like an eternity browsing menus on his phone, though, we finally had bags in the back of the car. There was no way I was going to point out to him that what we'd eventually settled on had actually been my first suggestion.
After a few ignored "hey, stop sneaking food from the bag!" complaints that clearly weren't going to work, I landed on a somewhat grumpy promise that, if he was going to eat everything before we even got back to my apartment, he was also going to be responsible for getting me a pizza. Jacob grinned his assent around a mouthful of French fries.
All his protestations about being horny seemed to take second place to his appetite, though, when we finally made it to my kitchen. By the time I'd fetched plates and glasses out, Jacob had dumped most of the contents of the bags onto the counter and was grazing his way through it.
"How do you not weigh three hundred pounds?" I asked him, staring somewhat incredulously. He smirked at me.
"Teen metabolism?" Jacob chuckled at my obvious frustration. "Oh, and I go to the gym three or four times a week."
I felt a certain sort of satisfaction wash over me. If it had all been natural, that simply would've been too much to stomach.
"Your friend didn't seem to approve," I mentioned, remembering the scowl on the girl's face when I picked Jacob up in the parking lot.
He rolled his eyes. "Sandra. She doesn't approve of anything. Certainly not when I... socialize."
I raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that what this is, 'socializing'?" Jacob chewed, thoughtfully.
"Would you rather this was a hook-up? Or a booty call?"
"Do we still say booty call?" I asked him. He smirked again.
"I was translating for you, old man."
I turned my back on him so that he wouldn't see my smile. His jokes might be at my expense, and mostly hinge on my age, but just the fact that we were making them together was leaving me feeling young. I pulled a couple of cold cans of soda from the fridge.
"Am I going to have to call Carl and tell him he was right?"
Jacob frowned at me. "You can call Carl and tell him to kiss my ass and mind his own damn business."
I raised my hands in supplication. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. No Carl."
Jacob yanked the pull on the can and took a long, noisy slurp. I watched his throat pulse as he gulped it down.
"Carl thinks he knows me," he offered after a moment, settling the can back down on the counter. He stared at it, twisting it idly between his fingers. "I mean, he told you as much, didn't he. That I'm selling myself off, somehow. Right?"
I shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable. Yes, Carl had basically implied that, and yes, I'd fully expected Jacob to demand some sort of payment at the end of that first night we'd spent together. That he hadn't, well, it still was something of a surprise to me, honestly.
When I looked up at him again, I realized he was staring at me.
"Was it a turn-on for you, thinking you were hooking up with a rent boy?" Part of my brain played his question over and over in rapid succession, trying to dig through his intonation to figure out what was the right answer. The rest of me just felt myself floundering.
"To be honest," I said, after as long a pause as I could stomach, "I was too busy being surprised that a hot eighteen-year-old would want to sleep with me to think about anything more nuanced."
Jacob stared at me in silence for a few moments more, searching my face, before looking down again at the scattered mess of food across the counter. I thought I could detect the faintest trace of a smile around the corner of his mouth, though I knew I could very well be mistaken.
"I'm not sure why it remains such a surprise to you that a younger guy could find you attractive," he said, eventually.
"That sounds like something only an attractive young guy could possibly question," I pushed back.
We sat for a minute or two in silence, each weighing the time as it spiraled out between us. Eventually, he sat up and pushed the plate away.
"Carl thinks too much. You think too much. And now I'm thinking too much." His sudden smile almost looked innocent, just for a moment. "You wanna fuck my throat?"
I looked at him in bemusement for a moment, then felt the grin twist my lips.
"I thought you'd never ask."
He knew where the bedroom was, but showed no inclination to move there. Instead, he slipped from the stool and took the few paces needed to close the gap between us, leaning in to press his lips against mine. I could feel the heat and urgency in me growing, a surge fueled by the mounting passion in our kiss.
Jacob reached down, his hand squeezed into the press of our bodies, and pushed his palm against my erection as it throbbed in my jeans. I grunted into his mouth, eagerly, then felt his fingers tugging at my fly.
He gave a sharp hiss of pleasure in return when my cock filled his fist. Deft strokes pulling me to even greater stiffness. Gripping his shoulders, I turned us - lips remaining tightly joined - until his back was against the refrigerator door.
When I pulled away, just for a moment, I could see the hunger scored clear in his gaze. Eyes slightly hooded; cheeks flushed. He licked his lips as I pushed him down, slowly but insistently, to his knees.
Jacob wasted no time, the head of my shaft slipping across his tongue as he forced his face into my crotch. The hot, wet clutch of his throat wrapping around my tip, while his lips massaged the base. I felt my hips twitch instinctively, jabbing my cock into him and sending the back of his head bouncing off the dull metal of the fridge door.
One hand making wet strokes along the length of me, he pulled off me and looked up with a sultry gaze. "Why are you holding back?"
I stared down at him; saw his eyes widen momentarily in teasing invitation. Then he was on me again, his hands repositioned to my ass as though to pull me further into him. Only this time I didn't need any help getting the message.
Pushing my crotch forward, I sandwiched his head between my body and the cold stainless steel. Felt him gulp and pulse on me as I held myself there, before pulling back until just the head was cradled between his lips. A moment, just a beat, and then I was grinding back in again, the slick, tight sleeve of him a silken grip around me as I built up a rhythm.
Staring down, I saw his eyes glaze over blissfully; watched his lips pulled taut around me. "Is this what you wanted?" I asked him, not allowing Jacob the free use of his mouth to reply. Forcing him to gurgle some happy, wordless message in the affirmative. My palms flat on the fridge now, shoulder-width apart, as I drove myself into him.
"Fuck my throat," he'd told me, and I took it at face value. Ignored the periodic choking and spluttering as I hammered relentlessly, gauging his own eagerness by the fierce grip of his fingers on my thighs. It felt somehow wrong - negligent, almost - to focus so completely on my own pleasure; only the knowledge that Jacob was equally turned on by such rough treatment stopped me from second-guessing myself.
Whatever doubts I might have had grew more and more distant as my orgasm approached, Jacob's attempts to ply his tongue around my cock almost needless as I forced my pleasure out of his body's slick grip. Knowing that there was no need to warn him, no need to ask for permission. Simply felt the surge within me like pins & needles, like a scream that bubbles from the pit of your stomach up through your chest at a volume you'd never believe yourself capable. And then tipping, toppling over the edge of it.
Squeezing Jacob's head like a vice, cock buried in his throat as deep as I could force it, and feeling the staccato gulp as he swallowed me. Pulling back as the grind of his tongue grew overwhelming, my flesh shuddering as the sensations flashed from pleasurable to excruciating like a sudden flood of cold water from the showerhead. And leaving Jacob on his knees, gasping.
Spit had run down his chin and left dark tracks across his shirt. Cheekbones brushed with red; mouth agape, lips puffy and swollen. I could see his chest heaving as he sucked down air.
"Fuck," he muttered, eventually. He sounded hoarse. Followed by a deep swallow that flexed his throat visibly.
I felt an unexpected twist of guilt, seeing him there; his face a sticky mess, arms hanging loosely by his sides. But, before I could say anything, Jacob looked up at me.
"Fuck, I needed that." His eyes were glowing, an eagerness that smothered any concerns I might have had that I'd taken things too far. Jacob ran a hand over the bulge of his dick, clearly outlined through the clinging black denim of his skinny jeans. "I'm so fucking horny right now."
As I watched, he tugged the button fly open and hooked out his erection. Already glistening with precum, his fist making wet noises as he stroked himself. For a moment I watched him there, thighs spread wide and mouth still open, his pupils huge as he jerked off in front of me.
It felt only natural to drop to my knees and lean into him. His puffy lips soft and pillowy against my own as we kissed, hungrily. Pulling him up with my hands in his armpits, I raised him just enough that I could then ease down his jeans some more, baring his ass to my roaming grip.
Breaking our kiss, I replaced my tongue with two fingers in his mouth, feeling him suckle on them like he'd been guzzling on my cock just a few minutes before. Getting them slick enough that, when I reached down and pressed my fingertips at his hole, it only took the slightest pressure before they were slipping inside him.
"Oh, shit," Jacob gasped, as I finger-fucked him roughly. His hand was a blur now, jerking frantically. I could feel wet flecks of his precum on my skin as he flailed.
"Your throat felt so good," I murmured, "and you're so well trained, I didn't even have to tell you to swallow my load." Jacob whimpered in response, a gasp half-stifled in his chest, and then his cum was splashing against me, his ass clamping down in waves as though it wanted to sever my fingers. When I pulled them free, he toppled back against the fridge as though I'd been the only thing holding him upright.
Holding up my arm to his mouth, I nudged the wetness of his cream against his lips until he got the message. Tongue emerging to lap up his own spray, flattening the fine hairs along my arm as he groomed me like a cat. "Such a good boy," I teased.
Jacob pulled his head back, lolling it at a loose angle against the fridge door, and gave me a smirk. "Don't get any ideas, 'daddy'," he told me, leaning heavily on the word. I laughed.
"Don't worry, not my scene," I told him. He chuckled in return.
"And just what is your 'scene', then?"
I shrugged; glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Right now, probably getting you into the shower."
He feigned affront. "Are you telling me I smell?"
Reaching out absent-mindedly, I brushed my thumb across his still-swollen lips. His face shifted to follow my touch, in a way that seemed almost instinctive.
"No, I'm telling you that you look good when you're naked and all soaped up."
Jacob pantomimed a thoughtful look, then grinned. "I suppose that could be true."
Pushing myself to my feet, I held out a hand to him. "Want to test my theory?" Jacob reached out and levered himself up from his slump. When he was upright, I gave his arm one last tug and brought him stumbling into me, our lips connecting. Damn, he was good to kiss. "You know where the shower is," I reminded him when our mouths finally parted, and then watched as he progressively shed his clothes on the short walk to the bathroom.
There's something particularly intimate in showering with somebody else.
I don't mean just the intimacy of sex that just so happens to take place under running water. It's the application of soap, of being observed as your hands wash your body in a process that typically lacks an audience. The specific way you run fingers between the cheeks of your ass, or even just how you scrub under your arms. Things we do, normally at least, in private - that, unless you have a mirror in your shower, even you yourself don't usually see in full - suddenly watched by another.
I didn't bother to disguise my observation of Jacob as he slowly turned under the sheets of water. My place might not be anything special, but the broad, full-throated shower head is an exception. Compared to the miserly flow you get from most, it's almost like you're standing beneath a waterfall.
Eventually, though, he opened his eyes to find me staring. "Sorry, I'm hogging all the hot water," he apologized. I smiled in return.
"It's okay, I get the view, remember?"
Jacob half-turned his body to me and arched his back knowingly. I watched the water course down his shoulders, half falling from them and half gliding down the curve of his spine. Either way splashing liberally across the full jut of his buttocks. Maybe it was the heat, but somehow the caramel of his skin was richer, fuller. I was mesmerized.
"Come here," he purred, and I closed the gap between us, allowing my body to mold itself to his as I wrapped my arms around his chest. Up close, his complexion was near-flawless.
"How did you get such amazing skin?" I asked him, thinking back to my own awkward, pimply teens. Jacob smiled, his nose nudging against mine.
"Witchcraft," he told me, "and good, clean living." I didn't even attempt to hide my skepticism.
"Does this count as clean living?"
Jacob laughed, and I felt his skin shift against mine. "Well, we're in the shower aren't we?"
I pushed my lips against his in wordless reply, feeling his part as our enthusiasm intensified. Jacob's palms skirted down the curves of my hips, fingers rhythmically squeezing my flesh. Even though we'd only just had sex, my groin was gradually reacting to our passion. The push of his own cock against my hip told me he was feeling it too.
"You make me feel younger," I told him, in snatched moments while our lips were apart. He rolled his eyes.
"How tedious," Jacob teased. "Can't you feel your age and just be turned on?" I opened my mouth to argue, then thought about what he'd said.
Did I have to revert to some younger version of myself to feel like it was okay to be with a guy? Or, to put it another way, was it really necessary to pretend - to convince myself, however tenuously - that I was someone, or something, different, because otherwise what we were doing wouldn't be "okay," somehow?
"You keep making me think," I pointed out to Jacob. "Aren't we supposed to just be fucking?"
He chuckled in response. I felt soft but insistent hands sliding around my ass.
"Now you sound really teenage."
"You're only as young as the boy you feel," I fired back.
Jacob nodded, conceding the point. A fingertip rasped deliberately across my hole, and I felt my cock pulse in response.
"Do you want to fuck me, then?" I asked him. Jacob grinned, dipping his face in closer to mine so that our lips grazed, but pulling away before I could kiss him properly. I groaned my frustration, then shuddered again as his finger passed over me again.
"I thought we could go out first," he told me.
I frowned. "Out where?"
His smile was wicked. "Don't you trust me?"
I'd watched as he squeezed his legs back into skinny jeans; his lithe torso clad once more in the confines of his figure-hugging polo shirt. Blushed the first time he looked up and caught me staring, his smile knowing. As he sat on the edge of the bed, lacing his sneakers, I observed the deft movements of his fingers though the mirror, only half paying attention as I tried to make some semblance of style from my unruly hair.
I'd watched him again in the back of the Lyft he'd summoned to my front door, the streetlights casting rhythmic amber shadows across his face. Stripes of tungsten orange as the fall night drew in suddenly. He looked across at me once, meeting my gaze in all its hunger; smiling, full of the knowledge that my eyes were entranced by him and him alone.
He'd set the destination in the app, and I wasn't sure where we were going. At least, not until we pulled up outside the club.
"Really?" I asked, knowing how my voice would sound but saying it anyway.
Jacob glanced at me, his expression loaded. "Really."
It was not, I realized as he pulled me through the door and into the dimly-lit room, the sort of club I'd been expecting. No thumping music and heaving, drunken bodies. Just a stage with a band, a bar half in shadows, and a crowd of people clutching beer bottles and mostly paying attention to the musicians playing.
Jacob pushed his mouth close to my ear. "They're friends of mine." He pulled back, and I raised an eyebrow as if to say 'impressive', even though it wasn't really my sort of music. He leaned in again. "Drink?"
I nodded, even as he was already leading us to the dimly-lit counter. Reached for my wallet, but found he'd already taken out cash of his own. I looked down as he pushed a cold bottle into my hand.
"I know, you'd rather have wine," Jacob teased. He mimed lifting the bottle to my lips and drinking. "Do you think you can slum it with me, just this once?"
Scowling, only half-seriously, I pointedly took a sip. "I drink beer," I told him. Jacob gave me a knowing look.
"Sure you do," he said, in a tone which said he didn't believe me one bit. "Let's go listen."
Again, I let him drag me by the arm, pulling us through the crowd until we were just a few people back from the low edge of the stage. The music wasn't bad, per se, but probably not something I'd have kept listening to if it came on the radio in the car. Lots of guitar and drums and lyrics I couldn't quite be motivated enough to decipher. The singer, at least, was cute in a long-haired, vaguely emo way.
Jacob's body brushed against me, not so much dancing as simply swaying carelessly to the rhythms. When I glanced over at him now, his attention was fixed eagerly on the stage; I felt a shiver of illicit liberation at being able to rake my gaze across his face and down his body, without the tempering knowledge that he was aware of it.
Handsome, somehow, fell short of doing Jacob justice. It wasn't just that his face was perfectly proportioned - mature, but still with an impish delicacy to the features - or the perpetually emerging smile that creased the corners of his mouth. I mean, they helped, certainly, as did the rich glow of his skin and the sparkle in his eyes. But beyond that, it was some balance of youth and knowing maturity that, as the wisps of guilt about our age difference gradually dissipated, left mainly hunger in its stead.
My observation was interrupted by an arm on Jacob's shoulder from behind us. We both turned, me a beat behind him, just in time to see arms flung around his neck and hear him squeal in greeting.
It was, I realized as they extricated from each other, the girl from the parking lot. My assumption was confirmed when she looked across, saw that I was present, and scowled with the same mistrustful expression of deep skepticism that she'd given me this afternoon.
"Shaun, this is my best friend Sandra," Jacob told me, raising his voice over the sound of the band. I found myself leaning in, echoing his posture as he tipped forward into the space between me and her, then realized she was - unconsciously, probably - doing the same. I stood up straight again, then nodded.
"Nice to meet you."
Her nod in return was several degrees cooler. "Yeah, you too."
"I saw you today, right? In the parking lot?"
The look I got made me wish I'd brought gloves, a scarf, and a hat, because I was liable to get frostbite.
"Yeah. I saw you pick him up."
I wasn't entirely sure what her problem was, beyond the basics of "mistrust the guy who's interested in your friend," but I'd had enough experience with Dour Female Best Friends to know that there was little chance of my turning it around any time soon. Much more likely was the probability that Sandra would quietly - or not so quietly - seethe and simmer for a while, then either realize I wasn't the devil incarnate or just block me out of all consideration.
Assuming, that is, I'm still around by that point.
I reached over and slipped my arm around Jacob's waist, then pulled him in close to me. He half-turned, grinning, still with an eye on the band but certainly not doing anything to discourage me. When I glanced to the side I saw Sandra watching me with outright displeasure writ large on her face. Just the briefest of looks, but I knew she'd seen me do it.
Pushing my lips close to his ear, I raised my voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.
"I don't think Sandra likes me."
I felt Jacob's smile more than I saw it, his cheek shifting against my face. He turned to me.
"Sandra isn't especially keen on anybody, I'm afraid."
I frowned. "So you're saying I'm not special enough to dislike?"
Jacob's eyes rolled, theatrically. "Are we back to self-doubt and tedious deprecation?"
"Are you always such a cocky know-it-all?" I fired back, smirking at him.
Unexpectedly he stuck out his tongue and, split-second quick, licked the tip of my nose. I boggled at him for a moment.
"Do strong boys intimidate you?"
Now it was the turn of my eyes to do some swiveling of their own. "Not at all," I deadpanned, "but I prefer it when they're squealing."
Jacob shook his head, mock-dismayed, then nudged his finger underneath my beer and gestured the bottle toward my lips. I got the hint and took a sip. It was not, certainly, what I would've picked, but the sheer fact that Jacob paid for it himself would probably be enough to give Carl palpitations.
"Music first, drinking first, socializing first," he explained to me, patiently, as though speaking to a child. "Then, well, the rest."
"I like 'the rest'," I told him, my expression lascivious.
"And I like fucking you," he replied, loud enough that Sandra half-turned to us. I caught the faintest glimpse of disgust on her face - more, I was sure, because I was involved than anything to do with Jacob being gay - before she turned away again.
"Fine," I told him, raising my bottle voluntarily this time. "You win. Look at me, being terribly social."
Jacob grinned. "You're doing so well, I'm so proud." A glance at the stage. "Keep it up and I'll introduce you to the singer who you so obviously keep checking out every few minutes."
Before I could even adopt a "who, me?" expression he'd turned back to the band, a self-satisfied smirk giving the strong suggestion that he thought he'd won this particular round. I reached out, clinked my bottle against his, and then echoed his gaze.
Jacob wasn't totally wrong. The singer was, even if the words he was producing were pretty much unintelligible to me, still easy on the eyes. Slim hipped and dressed all in black, with shoulder-length long hair hanging in a fashion best described as wayward, he was pretty in a slightly fragile way that, I wasn't entirely proud to say, occasionally pushed my buttons.
It was a thought that ran through my mind again a couple of songs later, when the singer was stood up close in front of me. The band had finished its set and been replaced by another which, I felt, was almost indistinguishable in the noises it was making. Before I could bemoan the fact, though, Jacob was tugging on my arm.
"Shaun, this is Ash."
A fitting name. Shock of pale skin behind the unruly hair that part-covered his face; full lips that were wet from a half-drained bottle of water. It was fairly dark, but I could still see enough to recognize his bright green eyes, flecked with amber. I lifted my beer to distract from the fact that I suspect I was staring.
Ash nodded a greeting at me, but his attention quickly switched back to Jacob.
"What did you think? Pitchy, right?"
Jacob face-palmed exaggeratedly. "You're your own worst critic," he pointed out. Ash shrugged.
"I could hear myself. It was terrible."
Jacob side-eyed me. "What did you think, Shaun?"
The sixty-four thousand dollar question. And one to which he knew the answer was "do I really have to listen to this?"
Not, of course, an answer I could say out loud.
"It was great," I told him instead. "You're really good."
Ash's attention fixed on me, a look close to hunger passing across his face.
"Did you really think so?"
I nodded. "Absolutely."
"Absolutely," he echoed, quietly, sounding thoughtful. I glanced at Jacob but his expression was resolutely locked-down.
"You don't think I was too... well, y'know... a little too..."
Ash trailed out, so I filled in the gap. "Not at all. I loved it." Watched as his face lit up in dawning recognition of the words I was saying. "I loved listening to you."
His smile was megawatt-bright; so much so, in fact, that I very nearly missed Jacob muttering "you loved looking, too," sarcastically next to us. I delivered as much side-eye as I could without it being abundantly noticeable to the youth now beaming at me.
"Thank you, that's really nice of you to say..." he trailed off.
"Shaun," I prompted. Ash nodded, as though he'd just been taking a long pause for dramatic purposes, and hadn't in fact completely ignored my name just moments before when we'd been introduced.
"Shaun, right. And how do you know Jacob again?"
I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, Sandra loudly interrupted. "He's fucking him."
Resisting the urge to glare, I took a deep gulp from my beer instead. Jacob, for his part, looked almost amused at the comment, while Ash just nodded again, more thoughtfully this time, as though it was some deep insight into interpersonal relationships.
"For long?" he inquired, eventually. I spluttered into the bottle.
"No, it's a relatively new fuck," Jacob deadpanned. Ash frowned, then conspicuously looked me up and down.
"Yeah," he concluded, "I can see it."
I felt very much like meat on display at that point, a feeling that wasn't entirely dissatisfying. Still, that was probably only because the meat was getting reasonably nice comments.
Jacob leaned into his friend, whispering conspiratorially into Ash's ear. Given the way the singer looked at me, his smirk increasingly evident, I could guess I was the topic of his mutterings. Awkwardly, I took another drink, only to discover the bottle was empty.
Pulling back, Jacob reached out and grabbed it from me. "Another?" I nodded mutely. He grinned. "Ash? Silly question." Another smirk from the singer. As I watched, Jacob pushed himself into the crowd in the direction of the bar.
When I turned back, I realized Ash had taken a step closer to me. Close enough, in fact, that I could see the smooth, almost pore-free expanse of pale skin between the artful tangles of his hair. What had seemed careless and unconsidered with the distance from the stage looked more intentional at less than arm's reach. No longer just hair allowed to run wild.
"So how did you meet Jacob, then?" His eyes sparkled as he asked me; I found myself missing the bottle which, even empty, was a good prop for my hands to fiddle with.
"Mutual friend," I explained, vaguely. Ash's eyebrow arched. "I don't normally..."
Lips just slightly parting in a smile. "You don't normally fuck teenagers?"
I winced. "Yeah, you could probably say that."
He nodded, thoughtfully, then lifted the water bottle to his mouth. I watched his throat pulse as he swallowed.
"Well," he said, eventually, "if it's any consolation..." Ash leaned into me, his lips near my left ear; I could feel the heat radiating off his chest, an oddly powerful wave given his slender form. "...I'm wearing really low-cut briefs. They're white. I think you'd enjoy them."
When he pulled back, he laughed at my shocked expression. Suddenly I was in no doubt as to what Jacob had been whispering to him earlier.
"Jacob likes embarrassing me," I commented, trying to reclaim some dignity in the situation. Ash gave me a wicked grin.
"Jacob knows I like attention," he countered.
Any comeback I might've had was interrupted by the man himself returning. Jacob held out a fresh bottle to me, and a plastic cup of something clear that I suspected was probably vodka to Ash. Held up his own bottle for us to clink against. I couldn't help but stare again as Ash swallowed. Something about that long, slender neck.
"So what did I miss?" Jacob asked us, smiling. I scowled at him.
"Shaun was just saying that you like embarrassing him," Ash prompted.
"Not as much as he likes choking me on his dick," Jacob offered, providing another opportunity for me to demonstrate choking on a drink. When I'd finished spluttering, he reached out and squeezed my bicep. "Not that I don't love that too, mind."
"It certainly stops you from talking about other people's... interests," I fired back. Jacob attempted an innocent look, but it wasn't terribly convincing. Ash giggled.
"He didn't even ask to see."
The innocent expression quickly morphed into mock-outrage.
"Don't you want to see Ash in his underwear, Shaun?"
I looked between them, Jacob playfully pantomiming anger and Ash hovering somewhere between amusement and simmering sexual tension. I wasn't quite sure how I'd got myself into this situation, but it definitely felt a long way from those fateful drinks with Carl.
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Oh happy day, oh surprise of surprises - part 4 is already finished. That assumes you want to read it, of course. Do feel free to tell me - alexp336@gmail.com or via https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/