Don't read this if you aren't of legal age to view this where you live. It contains sexually explicit material. All names, places, and events are entirely fictional, and any similarities to real-life events are entirely coincidental.
Rights to this story lie exclusively with Nifty and myself. If you wish to reproduce it in part or in whole, contact me. Do not reproduce otherwise.
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This is a prequel to my last series on Nifty, "Fuck Or Flight". I actually wrote this quite a while before that story, but recently decided to edit it and shoot it off. CJ is the same character, and the events herein took place before those stories. This is obviously a gentler story than that last, although it takes place in the same not-so-ideal setting.
A lot of people have messaged me with inquiries as to if I'm going to continue Fuck or Flight, which I greatly appreciate. I actually have a number of chapters in the works, but to be honest, they've been that way for over two years. Between non-smut, life, and ever present writer's block, who knows? I've surprised myself before.
Feel free to contact me at ohwantanabe@gmai.com for any comment you may have about the story.
I knew I was going to get lost. Freshman orientation was only a few weeks ago and I didn't keep that kind of information in my head for long. The only thing I had learned during that excruciating pep rally was that it was fairly easy to carve my name into the bleachers.
Goddamn, every hallway looked the same. Was first period in the portables? I couldn't remember.
The bell helpfully rang and let me know I had now been tardy for ten minutes. Three tardies are an absence, the fascist in my homeroom had informed me last period. It seems perverse that if you show up two minutes late for all of your classes, during the five periods that make up a school day, you'll miss a day and two-thirds of another day.
Room 1509, Algebra 2, just where It hadn't been the last time I went through this hall. The fucks sitting in the front row, the ones with brown noses and brains scarce enough to actually need to hear what the teacher had to say, shot me dirty looks, as if opening the door and interrupting whatever inspiring header the teacher had attached to his syllabus was the worst thing that had happened to them all day.
"Take a seat, I won't worry about being late this first week...," the teacher called out at my back since I'd already started to walk to the last row of desks.
It looked like most of the people taking this class were sophomores or juniors; if I hadn't spent an achy summer shooting up two inches, to 5'2", I'd feel even shorter than I already did. I got a few glances my way, but tight ratty jeans, goodwill skate shoes held together with duct tape, and dyed black hair didn't seem to be going over well with any of the preppy mouthbreathers. Backpacks and binders suddenly found their way onto empty chairs next to people as I plodded down the aisle.
I slumped into a seat in the middle of the back row with a couple empty spaces on either side of me, with some dipping rednecks to my left, and some "gangstas" who, and this I was sure of, grew up in McMansions and the nearest they had been to Compton was the Hollywood Walk of Stars.
I hadn't caught the sigh that the teacher had surely taken when another lost cause had revealed itself to him, because by this time, I had already zoned out.
Hah, I laughed to myself, breaking my reverie a short time later, someone who was later than I was. This someone looked to be a junior, maybe a senior, or at the very least a very matured, scraggly faced sophomore, who just came in. Tall, with more muscle than could really justify describing him as skinny, blond medium length hair with a t-shirt and cargo shorts all added up to a hippie waster. God, he gave the teacher a hug? The teacher tolerates it with a laugh, they must know each other.
"Go find a seat Derek," the teacher good naturedly tells him.
Now, I sometimes get premonitions. I don't believe in premonitions, but it's either that or Holmesian leaps of logic, but my poor self esteem makes that seem like an even more remote possibility. In that moment, my prescient wisdom sparked and let me know this Derek was going to sit next to me.
I scramble to pull out two spirals from my binder and lay one on the chair of both desks next to me as he saunters towards the back of the room. There are plenty of empty seats, maybe he'll pick one, I hope to myself. No, he's set on the back row, he's not even looking at anywhere else. He looks like he's trying to catch my eye, goddamned friendly bastard.
I put my head face down on my arms in front of me and stare at the fog my breath makes on the desk and hope he gets the message.
"Hey man, I think this is your spiral,"I hear to my left along with a hand on the shoulder.
Bringing my head up sideways, I look at him, or rather, before that, smell him. Jesus, this guy was skunk. I guess he thought the patchouli took the edge off of it.
"Ummm, yes,"I mumble and reach out to grab it, trying to nudge his hand off my shoulder in the process.
He has a big dumb grin on his face and moves his hand to my face and pushes aside my hair.
"Wow, do you even know how spectacular your eyes are?"
I freeze. What do you even say to a thing like that? Who does this guy think he is? I jerk my head forward and try to ignore him.
"Don't worry about this class, little brother," he says as he knocks me forward into my desk with a pat on the back," If you need any help, let me know. I've taken it before."
This is really too much. This is what I'm going to be subjected to for an hour and a half a day for another four months? I'm going to shoot up this school, I really am.
I become aware that the class is silent, and people are looking at me.
"Collum James Anderson, stand up and tell us a bit about yourself,"The teacher makes himself heard from the front of the room.
Ah shit.
Extricating myself from the desk, I stand up and pray for an aneurism," It's C.J. I'm extremely contagious. It's spread by physical contact, conversation, and being called on. Be careful you don't get it."
I quickly get back in my seat. The teacher, who if the name on the blackboard is correct, is called Mr. Berg, gives me a humorless stare that adds ten years to his face. Giggles erupt from various retard pockets scattered across the room.
"Very well C.J. Yasmin Asfour?," He goes on, working his way down the list.
It wasn't long until I learned about most of the class's hunting licences, or their new cars, or the time they spent vegetating with people who could stand their presence. Interminably it dragged on until Mr. Berg got to the Ls.
"Derek Lewis, you're up next."
"Oh thanks Mr. B," Derek replied," I'm Derek, I like to party, like to camp out and go to concerts. Also, I'm a good man to come to if you need something."
So now not only was he going to sit next to me, every pothead in the class would be passing by my desk, filling out orders.
After an extremely long time, introductions were over, and once we agonized through a few handouts, the bell rang and things were finished.
English and Computer Science lay between me and lunch period, but passed fairly quickly. I hadn't been saddled with a free lunch card yet, so I grabbed a sack lunch off the Counter Of Humiliation next to the condiments.
I stood in outside the entrance to the kitchen and opened the bag, apple, ham and cheese, and celery. Not much improved from middle school. I was hungry, but I tossed the sandwich in the trash.
"You know you shouldn't waste food like that," A familiar voice called from behind me," there are starving children in the trailer park."
I turned around. Angela had already made her way to me. She was my best friend. Hispanic, heavy lidded, dark straight hair.
With all this talk of food, I knew she was goading me into making a comment about her weight, but knew not to go there. She liked to pick a fight and I'd lose.
"Good, we're in the same lunch," I turned up the sides of my mouth in a smirk," I was worried I was going to have at least one period where I enjoyed myself."
"Come on, already have a spot," she motioned over to a nearby table where an enormous lunchbox with black and pink bows took up most the space in front of three stools.
"You know, that thing was tacky back in middle school. You aren't so much of a trendsetter as you are a Hobby Lobby," I remarked as I sat across from her.
"Hmph," she chuckled," How was your morning?"
"You really don't want to know. I guess second and third weren't so bad, but first period is going to be torture."
"Tell me about it. I have Home Ec. then. Mrs. Brown, my teacher, thought The Stepford wives was an instructional video."
Angela was the only person I really enjoyed talking to. It really was sad that I didn't feel about her the way she did about me. I'd known she cared about me when she'd blindsided me with an invitation to a dance in 7th grade. When it happened I just stood there, awkwardly trying to mouth words until she got the message and ran off with tears in her eyes.
It had been the first time anyone had shown me that kind of attention, so I made it a point to be friends with her, and eventually told her I was gay. That was almost crueler than the initial rejection, but I didn't have a choice, it was bursting out of me. By now, I knew she loved me, but what can you do?
"How was orientation,"she sneered," Did you feel the spirit?"
"That's funny, a priest would say that because of my orientation, I'm corrupting my spirit."
"That isn't funny, and you know it," Angela said while peering into her yogurt," You try too hard. It's forced."
"I know," I reply," at this rate, how am I ever going to qualify for the Verbal Olympics?"
Over her dramatic gagging I kept going," It was fine. Wish I hadn't told my mother about it. She's convinced I ought to have a 'High School Experience', which really means she doesn't want me to get pregnant at 17 like she did."
"I don't think that will be an issue, with two years to go, you can still beat her record."
"Haw haw. Hopefully it doesn't happen on my way to 4th period. I'll catch you later, I want to scout out my next class. This bolting from one place to another is stressing me out."
"Alright," She said, sounding concerned," Hey, do you want to come over tonight? I know you're a walker, but my brother is picking me up this year, you could ride with me."
"Nah, sorry. I'll catch you tomorrow. It's a shame we don't have any classes in common."
"Okay C.J., cya..." she waved as I went to toss my trash out.
I'd eaten the celery and most of the apple, but felt a bit uneasy. I knew my next class was somewhere near my first, but apart from the electives hall and gym, this place was a maze. While most people were still eating, I slipped past the hall monitors and ambled down the hall.
I was surprised when I found it within a few minutes, Art, 1411. The lights were off, so I guess the teacher was still at work.
I'm not sure if it was the food, or just the bright fluorescents in the hallway, or the way people passing by seemed to spare an extra second to stare at me, but I started to feel really anxious. Trapped.
Trying to breathe deeply, I found my way to the nearest bathroom. No one was there. I splashed my face with water, but I couldn't help but shake and my stomach was turning knots. Quickly grabbing handful of paper towels, I ducked into a stall and perched up on the seat.
Fumbling through my bag I found a box of bandaids and opened it up. I grabbed the X-acto knife blade I'd stolen from a neighbor slipped in between the bandages.
I pulled down my pants and put the blade to my thigh. It takes a little psyching up to get started, I've never been a mad slasher. Some people do Sudoku in ink, blood is another level of permanence.
"I just need to press, I'll be able to get through this. So what if it's at school," I tried to focus.
Creak, went the door. Fucking shit, I nearly dropped the blade in surprise. I held perfectly still atop the seat.
"Nah, no one's in here," I heard a voice say.
After some rustling, another voice said," Thanks man, here you go."
The door opened again, and once it had closed again I let the breath I'd kept in out.
I took a look at the razor and I felt a bit disgusted. The moment had passed.
My pants pulled up, I opened the stall and started towards the exit.
"Gonna narc on me, cutie?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard Derek's voice. I thought he had left. He was to the right of the stall on the opposite wall, with a smirk on his face.
"Uh...uh...no," I sputtered out, not making eye contact.
"If you're trying to hide, don't sit on a noisy toilet seat," he explained," Chill out though, seriously. Here, take this."
In his outstretched hand he had a small bag of weed. I shot him a look and ground my teeth.
"Come on, of course you smoke. You were either waiting for me or jacking off. Maybe both."
The best I could do was," I don't have any money."
"Liar, you're flush, I know it." He flashed his eyes at me," oh wait, lush, that's the word. Those lips for sure."
I'm sure I turned a bit red as I brought my hand up to my mouth.
"No thanks," I muffledly replied.
"It's free. I won't even ask for a kiss," He promised, stepping forward, then slipped the pot into the pocket of my sweater.
Mercifully, the bell rang at that moment.
After a chuckle he said "Gotta go. It was awesome running into you again, CJ."
My head was swimming by the time the door had shut behind him. This wasn't something I had any experience with.
Reaching into my pocket, I rubbed the plastic bag. Things fell out of there all the time. I stashed it down the front of my briefs. As far as I know, hormones can't hurt THC.
As I'd already found where I had to be, it was easy to go through the mostly empty hallway and sit down at a desk. I was unusually inattentive, even for me, my next couple periods. Had a bit on my mind.
Last period was P.E., at least that wasn't difficult to get to. The first day stuff was useless as always, discussions on gym clothes I wouldn't own until pity permanently assigned a loaner to me. Lockers that needed locks. Disappointments to all the people who thought this was going to be a fun teen sex romp with the news that there were not going to be showers after P.E.
My P.E. teacher was a fat, jowly man in shorts whose football coaching prowess obviously wasn't enough to preclude him from putting in his time yelling at non-athletes for an hour or two a day. He oversaw a game of dodgeball where it was easy not to get hit. I've seen better hand eye coordination in Parkinson's wards.
Lots of people were rushing to wherever they were going to, and I weaved my way through as fast as I could, but I shouldn't have bothered.
Morons say that if you don't like the weather in Texas, wait five minutes, and so, like a moron, I waited for the rain to stop, cross legged up against the wall with everyone else waiting to be picked up by people who presumably cared about them or were forced by a court to be here. Then another five, and another ten. It was almost forty-five minutes before I was mostly alone, but still being steamed in the august rainfall.
I got up and paced. I lived about thirty minutes away. I'd be wet, and all my things would be wet by the time I got home. The monitors were walking around looked annoyedly at the remainders. At least one of them would have to stay with us until our logistical failures could be resolved.
It was drenching out there. If things went on much longer, even if it stopped, I'd be sloshing through the rivers the roads invariably turned into whenever god pissed on this shithole of a town.
"Hey, you got someone picking you up," I heard someone shout in my direction.
The voice came from the window of a maroon early 90's van.
"No, I'm walking," I yelled.
Peering inside I could see that Derek was driving, and a tall skinny guy with a big nose and an even bigger adam's apple was in the passenger seat.
"Get in,"Derek replied." It's either that or swim."
This was one of those nervous moments where I wasn't sure what to do. No gut feeling. Go with him, stay here and wait, or walk in the rain. My mother had never said anything about getting into cars with strangers who had given you narcotics. Probably something she would have done.
Oh well, I decided. I do like being dry. I pulled the sliding van door and hopped in the back seat.
Derek looked behind him and smiled at me. "Hey CJ, in the front seat here is Matt, and next to you is Jeremy."
Both of them said hi and I mumbled a weak hello.
Jeremy was ginger and chubby, with some heavy metal shirt on. He asked ", so how do you two know each other, Derek?"
"Oh, he's in my first period. Good old Mr. Berg," he said as he pulled out of the parking lot.
"He's adorable. Where do you live little emo?"
"Uh...near Juniper," I choked out.
"That's too bad, on the other side of town. Otherwise Matt and I would take you home to live with us," he said with a flash in his eye. He used his hands a lot when he talked. "It's on the way to Derek's house, though. Guess we'll be dropped off first."
I guess from my awkward silence and pained facial expression Matt thought I needed rescuing.
"Don't mind him, I keep him on a short leash," Matt joked," Now Derek on the other hand..."
"What he must think," Derek laughed," Hey, gimme a cig."
Jeremy leaned over the seat and passed Derek cigarette. He held out another for me,"Here, have one."
I pulled it out of his fingers and held it out for him to light. I had never smoked, but I knew you were supposed to breathe in. An idiotic thing to do with burning material, but it fit the theme of the day.
I coughed into my sleeve after I took a drag. It fucking stung.
"You don't smoke, do you?" Jeremy asked.
No, I shook my head.
"Fucking A, how are you so thin?" he exclaimed.
"He probably doesn't smoke as much pot as you do," Matt suggested.
"Haha," Jeremy laughed as he put his hands on his stomach," I owe all that I am to the munchies. Do you know I had doritos sprinkled on ice cream the other day?"
"That sounds like a recipe for fake vomit," Matt said.
"It's a recipe for real vomit," Derek called out," and get the fuck out of my car, you two, we're here."
We'd pulled into a new subdivision, and in front of a big ugly house.
"Bye DJ, it was nice to meet you," Matt said as he left the car.
"I think it's CJ, right kid?" Jeremy asked.
"Yea...cya,"I said, but they were already running toward the front door in the rain.
"Hop on up front, you can give me directions," Derek said, patting the passenger seat.
I stumbled up into the front seat, with my usual grace and poise, and fidgeted while Derek got back on the road.
"Hey," Derek grabbed my hand and looked over," Stop freaking out. I only axe murder people on federal holidays."
That got a smile out of me. "Sorry, I dunno, guess I'm high strung," I apologized.
"I hadn't noticed," He flashed a smile at me. "So CJ, do you like boys, or girls?"
Now, just because I had told Angela, didn't mean I had much experience in sharing that particular part about myself. It took me nearly an hour of hemming and hawing until I had managed to spit it out to her. To be asked outright was a shock.
I heard my blood rushing in my ears, I'm sure I was turning red, or white, or some other color.
"I...uh...well...I...,"I couldn't seem to say anything, I didn't know that I wanted to.
"Well, when you decide, let me know," He laughed," You had better put out that cigarette, don't wanna burn yourself."
I dropped the barely smoked column of ash in the ashtray and looked out the window, we were getting close to where I lived.
"You can drop me off here, I'll make it the rest of the way," I said.
"Hell no, it's raining, I have to take you to your door," he replied," Not many houses out this way, but uh, you don't live in a house, do you?"
"No...I don't," I mumbled, looking at my shoes.
"Fuck, you don't have any control over what kind of people your 'rents are, even if you did, no shame in being poor. I'd live in my van in a second," he rubbed my shoulder," You need to tell me where to go, though."
I directed him to the trailer park, down the muddy driveway, and around the corner. It was a bit humiliating, but he was right. I wish I had a van I could drive away in.
"Uh, here it...," I stopped mid sentence. Under the carpark there was a familiar red Camaro next to my mom's sedan.
Not today, not fucking today, it's my first day of school, I met some people, and this is the end of it. I started panicking, I didn't want to be here. I squeezed my fists and rubbed them up and down my jeans compulsively. Why did I have to do this in front of Derek. I felt sweaty and like I wanted to jump out of my own skin. My thoughts kept racing.
"Dude, what's going on?" Derek asked with urgent concern,"Is this not a place you want to be right now?"
"No, no, no," I said with tears in my eyes. I wanted to curl up in a ball and I brought my knees to my chest.
After a pause he said," Ok, bud, calm down, we're leaving, I'll be ok," He fairly tore out of Piney Knoll trailer park.
I guess he pulled into a gas station parking lot and just started rubbing my back. At first I wanted to shy away, didn't want him to touch me, I felt dirty and he felt dirty and I thought about bolting out of the door. His hand was gentle though, and he kept telling me good things. I finally started to level off, to breathe alright again. The rain was pinging off the roof and flowing in rivulets down the window, I was fine.
I felt a bit exhausted, and I didn't want to look at Derek. He must think I'm a psycho; what kind of lunatic has a panic attack when he pulls up in front of his own house? Shame was burning my face.
"You don't gotta do anything you don't wanna do, but I was thinking we could get you an Icee and head to my place, you don't have to go back there."
I knew nothing about this guy, but that plan sounded like a better option than anything I could think of. I looked up at him; he had a bit of a half smile, but worried eyes. I'm sure my own eyes were red and puffy. I nodded.
"You know, not many people can pull it off, but you're pretty when you cry," he said,"I just wish whatever it was wasn't an issue."
"No magic lamps around here," I said bitterly.
"Hey cheer up, the light you need has to come from within yourself," he lectured," unless it's in your front pocket where most people keep their lighters."
I'm not sure if he wanted me to mull over that Hallmark moment but he didn't try to make too much more conversation.
"Wanna come in with me," he asked," I might get you the wrong flavor."
"Cherry, and no, I look terrible."
"Oh come on, you're a little red, but you could have just as easily had a sneezing fit or gotten news your hamster died.''
"Just for that I want trail mix too," I yanked open the door and walked in.
"Sure you don't want the kind with M&M's," he suggested when we were in front of the display case.
"Island Sunrise all the way," I asserted.
"I always thought the dates were boogers," He kidded.
"Fine, don't be digging in my bag for some," I walked over to the Icee machine and grabbed a cup.
As the machine hummed and started squeezing out the cherry slush Derek had to say," So slow. Luckily I'm a squirter not an oozer."
I took my hand off the somewhat suggestively molded lever and gave him a death stare.
"You aren't even halfway full," he laughed and grabbed my cup and started the flow again. He was nearly jacking off the lever, giggling as he looked at me.
Despite myself I couldn't help but laugh, I felt my spirits rise as we chatted and joked at the register and on the way to his place. I didn't even complain when he took enough sips of my Icee to turn his mouth red.
It was about fifteen minutes before we pulled up to a low set bungalow style house surrounded by green leafed rowed fields.
"Are your folks farmers," I asked.
"Hah. Of a kind, but we just live here, that's our neighbor's crops. Cotton. The ground is covered with it in winter. Almost like snow."
"That sounds pretty," I said a bit dreamily as I hopped out of the car and rushed through the rain to follow him to his door," I've never seen snow, I think I'd like it."
He opened the door, but I hesitated before the threshold.
"You're sure it's ok? With your parents I mean. I don't even have a toothbrush...," I fretted.
"Don't worry bout a thing," he said," they love company. There's probably a spare around here. I even have pajamas for you, they'll be a bit big though."
I stuck my hands in my hoodie pocket to keep from wringing them and walked in.
It really was a neat place, lots of crystals, dream-catchers, african masks. Too cluttered for my tastes and a bit dusty. I followed him through the foyer, through the living room, kitchen and out onto the screen porch.
"David; Maggie. This is my friend C.J., he'll be spending the night," He said, the rain pattering on the roof.
I figured it best not to mention that I wasn't sure we were friends and just said," Hey."
David and Maggie were lying in a big multi color hammock together. They both waved.
"How was your first day of school, boys," Maggie asked.
"Really great," Derek gushed.
"Eh," I offered.
They all laughed at that, although it wasn't a joke.
"Dinner will be at six. Hope you like lentils," David said.
"Alright, cya later," Derek said as he opened the screen door and walked out.
I caught it before it slammed shut and followed him out. We passed a drained, leaf filled swimming pool while being sprinkled on and came to what looked like a pool house.
"Mi casa es su casa," he said, walking.
I looked around. The main room was messy, it had a TV, workout bench, futon, shelves covered with bongs, souvenirs and other various paraphernalia, and a little kitchenette with a mini fridge. The floor was covered with clothes and it smelled of pot. I could see a bathroom off to one side.
"If you weren't such a slob this would be an amazing room," I commented.
"Oh, ouch," Derek laughed," maybe if you come over enough you can tidy up. You could totally pull off a french maid outfit."
"Je suis un garcon," I exclaimed with playful outrage, and when he looked at me with a bemused but blank smile, I explained "It means I'm a boy. It figures you wouldn't know the romantic languages of the world."
"No, the most I read is dirty magazines," he said," Want me to bring out a few so I can keep listening to the pretty noises you make?"
My french repertoire was very limited, and the offer was a little more tempting than I might have liked to admit. So I stalled.
"I need to piss out this slushie, hopefully it's above porta-potty levels of hygiene."
He laughed as made my way to the bathroom. It wasn't as bad as could have been expected, guess that's the difference between a messy boy and a messy girl. Angela could use some lessons.
I unzipped to pee, but I had a really annoying boner. I sighed and sat down after I wiped the seat. Backing up I aimed at the wall of the bowl.
It gave me some time to think. This guy seemed sweet, but also bigger and older and obviously highly sexed, though to be honest, what teenager wasn't. Would he take no for an answer? My experience wasn't good. I wasn't sure I wanted to say no, however.
No one ever said high school was going to be simple. I told myself as I finished, tucked my dick in my waistband and washed my hands.
Once out of the bathroom the next planned activity was obvious by the smell.He was sitting on the side of his bed, lighting one of the little protuberances on the bong.
After a suck from the top he looked over at me and smiled while holding his breath. "Join me," he exhaled," helps after a long day."
My day had been long, but I'd never done anything like that. I'd gotten drunk once and it had put me in a bad even more vulnerable position than was ordinary.
"What's your problem, little brother, you're too young to be applying for jobs. It's all fair trade, local, I know the guy who grows it. Helps with anxiety, glaucoma, ADD. You won't owe me anything."
Intuition is a fickle friend. At this point all I could think about was my elementary school anti drug program and how much cooler I thought the former drug addicts who had spoken must have been before they got sober.
"What do I do?," I asked, grabbing the bong from his hands.
"Here, let me help you," He steadied it and brought it to my mouth," Put your lips around the end and I'll fire up the bowl."
With a click of his lighter, smoke ascended up the tube. I promised myself I wouldn't cough but my eyes were watering as I sucked in.
After a few seconds, Derek grabbed it from my hands and said," Woah, woah dude, don't overdo it. Don't know your tolerances."
"I don't feel anything, maybe I'm immune, maybe..."
I stopped talking because I started to feel as though I was being lifted by little strings attached to every muscle, especially in my face, I couldn't help but smile. The soft lighting felt even softer, and fuzzy feelings dulled all the edges, inside and out.
"This is the most...best...feeling," I said, looking over at him.
He had a really endearing grin on," I knew you'd like it, nothing like it after a long day."
He got up and put some music on. Something with slow riffs and synthesizers and ghostly vocals. I didn't even feel like I was here, and it took almost all of my attention. I barely noticed when Derek grabbed my shoulder.
He was lying in bed, with the covers open. "Come on, it's ok to fall asleep," he said, motioning for me to climb in next to him.
I kicked off my sneakers, and without even thinking about whether I should or not, I climbed in beside him. The sheets were linty and the comforter smelly, and the bars of the futon dug into your bones, but it felt amazing to lie down.
He propped himself up a bit and took another hit then held it over for me and I gladly partook.
I can't even say that we talked, but camaraderie and heady smells filled the air. The slightly funky weed, the musk of the bed coverings, and with growing potency, a masculine fragrance from his direction filled my nose.
I had a fleeting thought that I should object as Derek slid his hand under my neck and brought his arm around my shoulders so that we were lying next to each other, but instead I reached over to feel his chest. His pecs felt toned through his shirt and I fingered his ribs, suddenly desirous of knowing how many there were. Twelve, that I could count. Oh wait, there was that little one near the back.
His laugh as it tickled him was infectious. I rolled over to my side and put my face on his shoulder. I was really self conscious about my boner so I maneuvered it between my legs. He wasn't being so demure about his, and it poked my stomach.
My first thought was to pull away, to run. But why? This was lovely? I'd been confused before the weed, and it hadn't helped on that front, however else it helped.
"Um, I've gotta ask" I mumbled, adjusting myself so the center of my body had at least a centimeter of distance between it and his dick," D-do you, like, like me?"
Little chuckles made his chest rock, and our faces were close together, although mine was lower. I thought I saw an abortive curl of the lib, possibly he thought about saying something playful, but then he wrapped one arm around my back, and gave me an intent look.
"I don't know you very well," He admitted, drawing little circles in between my shoulderblades," But yea. I do. I like you a lot."
At that, he pulled my hair back a bit, angling my face towards him, and our lips met. First, they were extended from our faces, a delicate, chaste butterfly, hovering there, but then he pushed in further, and it opened up, opened me up. He was in, with tongue and taste, we were connected. I don't know how good of a kisser I was. I tried to react, tried to keep pace, but it was overwhelming, so I fear I just held close and melted onto him.
Hands roamed my body, and they were electrifying. So much so in my diminished capacity I couldn't even figure out where he was touching. Once I even forgot he was kissing, when he disabused me of that notion when he renewed the never-broken kiss by pulling me in closer by my hips and the back of my neck. We were pressed together.
It was a hell of a first.