Endless Summer
Chapter 1
Pressure
'Why does lunch at Bullworth Academy have to be so utterly disgusting?'
His mind races and his leg bounces in an ADHD fit, it's the only way he can distract himself from the unforgiving pressure in his aching gut.
'If this school didn't constantly sell radioactive food I wouldn't have to drink so much at lunch to get full.'
Peter Kowalski curses under his breath.
And oh how that Beam Cola had so violently turned on him.
Of course it couldn't wait until he was in a class with a reasonable teacher. No, no, no. This was happening in his least favorite class, with one of the school's strictest teachers.
'Come on, Mr. Hattrick! Stop babbling and turn around already,' his thoughts demand.
Mr. Hattrick drones on endlessly, refusing to look away from the board he's been talking so intently to for the last ten minutes.
Pete has tried everything from holding his hand in the air, to coughing loudly in order to capture the attention of his teacher. However, the dark-skinned man remains deeply entangled in his verbal novel entitled, Exponents.
'Oh! Come on, come ON!'
"And being that the exponent is 3, this problem is a third degree equation…"
The pain burning in his bladder is weighing him down. Pete swears to himself that if he makes it out of this alive, he'll never tease Algernon about his weak bladder ever again.
'Bladder,' His entire body throbs and he drops his face in agony.
'Don't think about it Pete,' he coaches himself mentally. He tries to focus on breathing correctly. 'I just need to distract myself.'
His russet brown eyes dart around the room, searching for anything interesting to distract him from the discomfort in his abdomen.
Pete's teeth sink into his bottom lip; this really wasn't working like he had hoped it would, he was in a math room! Nothing on the walls were meant to distract; if anything they were meant to bore him into paying attention.
Well, maybe the teacher could distract him?
Maybe if he really tried to pay attention…
"This also makes 7 the leading coefficient …"
How is it possible to concentrate on something like this?!
Stress is causing him to sweat, and he's so uncomfortable that he's constantly shifting around in his seat.
There's no way he can give up; Pete looks to the students around him hoping for a distraction. Everyone seems to be asleep or actually paying attention, oh god, he has to find something!
He looks away in frustration, his vision finally spotting something that always proves to be an instant escape from class, the window.
Horror sweeps through him as his vision zeros in on a few drops of melted snow slowly sliding down the glass. It takes every ounce of his will power not to make a noise of discomfort as the thought of water aches through his body.
'I can't take it anymore!'
He knows that interrupting Mr. Hattrick is like selling your soul to the devil, but he had to go so badly that he was willing to do either if it meant he won a trip to the restroom.
Pete stares daggers into the back of Mr. Hattrick's balding skull. He sucks air in through his teeth, and decides to just get this over with.
"Are there," Mr. Hattrick suddenly asks as he finally spins to look at his class, "any questions?"
Pete's hand shoots into the air so quickly that it nearly breaks the sound barrier.
"Yes Peter," Mr. Hattrick responds, confusion coloring his features. He'd never seen the boy behave this strangely.
"Mr. Hattrick, may I go to the restroom," Pete blurts out. Mr. Hattrick's arms cross over his bulky chest.
'No?!'
"Mr. Kowalski, are you aware of your current grade in this class?"
Snickers go off around the room. Oh sure, laugh at the weak kid who not only gets bullied by every kid in this school, but the teachers as well.
Pete grinds his teeth together; he is, in fact, very aware of his grade in this class. Besides Melvin O'Connor, he had one of the highest grades. He seriously didn't have time to waste.
And besides, what's so bad about a B+?
Pete's knuckles grip his tan slacks, "Please, Mr. Hattrick."
And for a moment, a very long, aching moment Pete is sure that he is doomed. There is no sign of sympathy in those cold, black eyes, and Pete knows that he can't hold it until the bell.
Mr. Hattrick however is facing a dilemma of his own. He hates letting kids out of his class, hates letting them out of his very sight, and he just knows that if he allows Peter to go, then surely he will have no choice but to let the next sniffling brat that asks go as well.
But the expression Peter is wearing, his eyebrows knitted upward, his eyes looking pathetic; it was all just so much that Mr. Hattrick… cracks.
He lets out a heavy sigh, "Very well," he says, dropping his arms, defeated. Pete jumps from his seat, scrambling to the front of the class, nearly tripping on his way. When he finally reaches the front, Mr. Hattrick stands with the awaiting hall pass, recently dug out from his desk drawer.
"Now, don't waste time Peter," Mr. Hattrick warns, pulling the hall pass back slightly, forcing Pete to look at him as he speaks. "Or you will not be allowed to leave in the future, do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir," Pete answers, staring at the hall pass in Mr. Hattrick's hand, he would agree to just about anything at the moment.
"Go," Mr. Hattrick says, handing the pass to the boy and waving him away.
Deep, coffee-brown eyes glare at the pile of rags before them. This had to be the worst assignment yet.
"Find a partner and the two of you will wash the clothes on your desk."
Home-economics was the worst part of Gary's day. He hated this useless class; it was a complete waste of his very precious time. As he glares down at the clothes before him, his overactive mind takes over, picturing the clothes slowly erupting into flames. He sees the heat taking over, spreading to all the students and teachers, burning them up and leaving nothing but black piles of ash behind.
"You have to take Home Economics to graduate, Mr. Smith," his memory speaks, shattering the pleasant vision he was enjoying.
Gary was hoping to dodge this class again; he'd been dodging it since his days as a sixth grader, the year most students take it anyway.
"I suggest you make up the credit and get it out of the way."
He can almost remember the anger he had felt burning under his skin. It didn't matter what he said to Crabblesnitch. He just had to take the class, because for some reason it's so important that graduation relies on it.
The thought of Crabblesnitch gradually bursting into flames plays through his mind, it makes him smirk before shaking his head; he still needs that old bat around if he's going to rule this school.
Scoffing, Gary takes to loudly drumming his fingers against his desk. He watches his scrawny teacher scribble washing instructions onto the board. Her voice rings annoyingly in his ears.
Gary's hand slides into his pant pocket, his fingers slowly running over the hall pass he had stolen a few days ago. As his fingertips gradually run over the smooth wood, an idea plops into his head.
'Why not just skip this worthless class? The semester ends after Christmas, and that's just a week away. With this perfectly good, stolen hall pass, what could possibly go wrong?'
Gary unconsciously licks his lips, he'd been playing especially good lately to make sure that Crabblesnitch and the prefects were on his side when the time was right. He really hadn't had any fun. What with his constant goody-two-shoes act for the teachers, and fooling all the morons around him.
The new thought burns through his brain, taking it over like wildfire and with his sadistic smirk perfectly in place he slides to the edge of his chair, practically hanging from his desk.
"Well okay class," the teacher says, spinning to face her students with a large smile, "let's get started."
He watches the class jump to life as all the little sixth graders pair into groups. Gary, however, makes his way to the doorframe, leaning coolly against the wall, out of the way of all the scrambling children. All he needs is a distraction; surely his teacher will notice him not working eventually.
His eyes spark with hidden excitement as the teacher turns and makes her way back to her desk. She slides into her chair, turning her back on the class to face her computer.
Bingo. Oh, this was just too easy.
His face snaps toward the awaiting hallway and he quickly surveys the area.
Clear, not a prefect in sight.
With a last look to assure him that every tattling eye is occupied, Gary Smith slides out of his classroom and into the empty hallway.
His heart races with the familiar rush of breaking the rules as he silently makes his way down the hallway, toward the main staircase.
With adrenaline pumping through his veins, his mind spins with new ideas.
Now on the first floor of the building, Gary auto-pilots to his locker, poking around before exploring the other lockers no one bothered to put a lock on.
He's sure he's discovered something unnatural when something streaks past the corner of his eye.
Something pink.
It moves so quickly that when he jerks to see the color, it's already gone.
Curiosity crawls through Gary's veins. His eyes stay fixed on the spot in the hall where he spotted that color, as if expecting it to reappear again at any moment.
Making his way down the hall, he slowly peaks around the corner, eager to find a person. Disappointment meets him instead; nothing pink is waiting for him.
The familiar blue restroom sign catches his eye.
He had to be in there, because there was only one person at Bullworth Academy who wore pink.
"Femme-boy," Gary whispers to himself, running his tongue over his bottom lip.
'Oh this day just keeps getting better.'
Pete lets out a heavy sigh of relief; the ache is finally gone and he can survive the rest of Mr. Hattrick's horrible exponent lecture.
He might even learn something from it.
With everything tucked back into its proper place, Pete makes his way toward the sinks.
'Might as well waste as much time as possible,' He thinks to himself as he turns the knob on the rusted out bathroom sink. 'Then I have art next,' Pete smiles.
He may not be the best painter, but creating something new always manages to distract his mind, helping him to temporarily forget about everything Gary is doing…
How was it that so much time passed so quickly? Ever since Jimmy got here… everything's been happening so fast.
The forgotten medication… All the endless plots… The betrayal in the Hole… The bullies, the preps, and now the greasers… It had almost been two months since Gary had turned on Jimmy.
Pete's smile disappears, when Gary had turned, he completely shut him out, ignoring him in every way possible.
He can still remember, with chilling clarity, what Gary said to him when he begged him not to do what he was planning.
"It's me or Jimmy, Femme-boy."
Sometimes Pete wonders if picking Jimmy was the right choice...
It's strange how Gary seems to be controlling every little thing from behind the scenes. Even stranger how Pete never sees him anymore; the two of them even share a dorm room!
But it's like Gary goes out of his way to isolate Pete, slipping in hours after he is asleep, and being gone before he even wakes up in the morning.
He hates missing Gary. He hates how he can just up and leave him after everything they've done.
After all those times, alone in their room, when his body was against his own, moving just right…
Pete shudders, violently snapping himself back into reality. He quickly adds soap to his palms, not allowing himself to fall back into those memories.
Somewhere between the hissing water and soap suds, a wave of paranoia washes over him, making his neck hairs stand up.
Someone's eyes are on him.
Pete looks into the cracked, grimy mirror just above the sink where he stands; he goes rigid when he sees someone leaned against the bathroom doorframe.
He stays completely silent, squinting in the dim light to make out just who the person is. With the bleak winter sky leaking through the small windows, and the schools poor lighting in general, it's hard to see more then just a silhouette.
"What's a matter, Femme-boy," that harsh, familiar voice calls out.
Pete's breath catches and his heart stops beating.
How many times had he pictured this happening? He pulls his eyes off the boy's reflection smirking at him from the doorframe and desperately tries to bring himself out of panic mode.
'Just ignore him like he's ignored me all those times I tried to talk to him. He turned on me and Jimmy because he didn't want us as friends anymore.'
Gary pushes himself away from the wall and steps into the room; his feet thud loudly against the tile as he makes his way toward Pete.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," the other mocks.
Pete visibly pales.
His honey-brown eyes dart back to his hands still under the running water; he forces himself to focus.
'Okay Pete, just turn off the water. Okay, now I need a paper towel…'
Gary's presence lurks behind him and Pete tries to fight off the heat tingling against his skin.
'Oh come on, don't blush…but god, why is he so close to me?'
Pete swallows, trying to keep to himself from losing his cool.
'Focus. Okay, now my hands are dry…calm down.'
His hands are shaking faintly; all this time Gary went out of his way to avoid him, and now this?
Pete leans forward slightly, tossing his paper towel into the nearby trash can. As he leans back from balancing on the balls on feet, to his heels, he almost falls into the boy behind him. He's so close Pete can smell his deodorant.
He goes rigid, holding his breath.
'Calm down, you can do this, just try and push past him,'
His thoughts are interrupted and he gasps out in alarm when those familiar rough fingertips suddenly touch his neck.
He feels his eyes widen in shock before locking onto Gary's reflection behind him. He stares, transfixed, as Gary's dark brown eyes scan over his skin; his fingers slowly sliding over his neck.
It was like Pete was some sort of old toy Gary forgot he had.
His heart was slamming erratically against his ribs, he never expected this from his "friend".
He was trapped.
His skin is red, and Pete knows it's obvious to Gary how embarrassed he is, and it really shouldn't matter that his shirt collar is crocked, but it seems like something Gary would notice as well. He wants to fix it… but why does it matter? He needs to get away, his thoughts are so scrambled.
Pete spots the reflection of Gary's lips parting slightly, he watches as Gary gradually leans forward, those smooth lips hovering just above his skin. He can feel the heat of his breath, puffing against his skin.
The thought of those lips touching him aches in his neck and makes his skin clench. Pete squeezes his eyes shut.
He hears a gentle chuckle and when his eyes pop back open he sees that terrible smirk spread across Gary's lips. His intimidating eyes stare back at him through the mirror.
'He's laughing at me?!'
Hot anger sears throughout your body, all of it that has been slowly building up for almost two months, the hatred that you had so masterfully hidden away, the regret, the pain… It all explodes in a hot rush of fury and you wheel around and slam your hands into Gary's chest, shoving him as hard as you can. All the blood in your body rushes to your head as you see him stumble backwards with a look of shock covering his face.
"Don't touch me!"
Your voice echoes off the walls and seems to linger in the air around you. Your hands keep balling and unballing into tight fists and you're dizzy because all the air had evacuated your lungs.
Gary's voice meets your ears, "Well, well, well, Femme-boy, look at how tough you've gotten since I've been away."
All the power and adrenaline melts the instant those cold, dangerous eyes met his vision, and suddenly he's realizing just how much darker Gary seems to have become; almost as if the very air around him has become corrupted.
Gary lunges forward, trapping Pete, with his arms fenced around his small waist, pressing his back firmly against the sink behind him.
Pete cries out when Gary's teeth harshly sink into his skin, sending pain racing down his spine. His body arches forward into the teeth terrorizing him.
The situation rapidly spins out of control.
It feels like Gary's teeth are ripping through Pete's skin, eating up his emotions, tearing thorough all the distance that had built between them.
It's worse then any punch because Gary eats away all the frustration, swallowing Pete back up into the same rhythm as before.
Through the shock Pete can only feel that mouth moving against his neck, and Gary's fingers gripping his hips, holding him in place... Like if he lets go, Petey will disappear.
Pete arches his neck, wanting to feel that mouth everywhere, he must've lost it, forgotten everything that Gary had done.
All the pain and sleepless nights… somehow he knew that the instant Gary came back he'd pick up where he left off.
His eyes twist shut and he gasps when Gary's tongue joins into the mix of teeth and lips and stubble raking up his neck.
Pete's hand grabs his shirt; this can't be real, it's all a wicked dream, terrorizing him in his sleep again.
'Wake up already!'
He has to stop him, because even his dreams come back to haunt him when he doesn't.
Instincts drive Gary to drag his teeth upward, eating away at Petey's neck. Tasting that skin that he won't admit he's been craving.
He has to make it clear that he is still the dominate one, he's still in control. Petey was challenging him with the way he shoved him so harshly, with the way he bared his teeth, like he was one in charge now.
Never.
Gary loved the challenge; he would win.
He had too.
His back is aching from the way it's shoved against the sink, and this strange throbbing keeps twisting in his abdomen, he already wants it too much. That mouth and every ounce of attention that Gary will give to him before he disappears again.
Heat rushes down Pete's body, intoxicating him.
He keeps his lips held tightly shut with his teeth; fighting against the sounds threatening to leak out and expose how much he wants it. But when Gary manages to lean him back and push their waists together, a whimper slips past his lips.
Gary's kissing now, bruising his way up Petey's neck and jaw line. It makes little sparks of pleasure dance under Pete's skin, and then Gary's hips arch forward, applying pressure to his hardening erection. They both gasp at the feeling, and then Gary's mouth starts budding against his skin but, he pulls away, lingering close enough to drive Pete insane.
It makes the air around them go tight.
Gary pulls back completely, and even though Pete isn't looking at him, he can feel Gary's eyes staring him down.
Finally he breaks and looks up to find those eyes.
He squints, straining to see in the poor light.
The darkness leaves Gary's eyes hidden behind a thick mask of shadow, leaving only his mouth in view. His jaw is tightly clenched shut and his cheeks are flexing every few seconds.
His heart beat becomes a frantic thudding in his ear drums and Pete pushes up closer to him, he watches the bottom half of Gary's scar move with his cheek in the darkness.
He stops when their mouths are merely inches away from each others.
The hands on Pete's waist suddenly feel incredibly heavy, and then Gary's lips separate. Neither of them can breathe in this tightness. Gary's mouth is slowly inching closer and closer and Pete can feel his lips lightly brushing his own. The frantic thud in his ears is getting louder and louder each second, nearly deafening.
He wants it.
Wants to move up and capture those lips with his. Wants to, but fear keeps him still. For with Gary, kissing is forbidden. For him it's too girly, too intimate, too gay.
That's why it's only happened once or twice, never lasting long enough before Gary shoves away.
But this, this is so close.
As Gary pulls away the waves of electricity that were pumping between the two of them snap. Pete sinks backward.
Now a wild smirk spreads across Gary's mouth, his dry chuckle filling the air again.
"Thought you didn't want me to touch you, Femme-boy," His voice taunts, it's much deeper then his normal tone, and the sound of it makes Pete's head spin.
Pete shoves against the other's shoulders again, but this time, Gary does not stumble, he's only forced back a few inches.
With the new amount of space Pete ducks down, quickly escaping under Gary's arms.
Once free of the trap, Pete backtracks, trying to put some serious distance between him and those piercing eyes glaring from over Gary's shoulder.
"Gary, s-stop messing with me like this," Pete tries to demand, although it comes out as more of a whine. He wipes Gary's saliva from his neck with his pink sleeve.
The more he backs away, the faster Gary advances until Pete is forced to stop. He's now backed into an empty stall with Gary blocking his only possible exit.
Blush bleeds onto his face, and Gary's body is pressed against his in an instant, his mouth whispering directly into his ear.
"What's the matter Femme-boy, are you afraid someone's gonna see you begging me for more? Afraid someone will hear you screaming my name, Oh Gary please!" Gary's taunts, his voice shredding through Pete like a knife.
"Gary, stop," Pete says, pushing against the other, trying to make him move or shut up, or something! He's being so loud!
Pete tries to speak again but his words are drowned out. "What if someone saw this instead, huh?" Gary says his hand claps around Pete's neck, forcing him to spin and face the toilet.
Pete's heart falls into his stomach, "No, no!"
"Huh, want others to see this instead?"
"Gary don't! Please, d-" His protest is cut off as he is shoved downward toward the awaiting toilet water.
"Please Gary, please," Pete shouts, frantically flailing under the weight of the others grasp.
Gary's dark chuckle rings in his ears and for the second time today Pete feels utterly doomed. How could he go back to class covered in toilet water? Why did every day have to be the worst day of his life?
The steel grip around his neck eases and Gary pulls him back upright. "Don't get your panties in a knot Femme-,"
"Gary, I need to go back to class," Pete interrupts; he keeps his back to Gary because he's too afraid to look him in the eyes.
He really did need to get back to class; Mr. Hattrick will have a cow with him being this late.
He flinches when the fingers around his neck stiffen.
The smirk of victory that Gary had been wearing quickly fades away; anger now taking over his features. The silence sends panic crawling through Pete's body.
"Besides Gary, d-don't you have a class to get to," Pete glances over his shoulder, "I-I mean, didn't you turn on me and Jimmy because… you don't… want me anymore?"
Anxiety tears Pete's chest apart, the tension hangs thickly in the air around them.
Pete feels Gary move forward; his chest pressing firmly against his back. Pete freezes when Gary's hand slowly descends from his neck to his shoulder.
"So that's it huh," Gary finally speaks, his voice is in a harsh whisper. It's so quick that Pete can hardly hear it.
"I leave you for a couple months and now you think that you're all big and strong? Jimmy doesn't shove you around like I do, right," his fingers dig into Pete's shoulder before shaking him, causing him to squeak.
"So you forgot how to act? Forgot how to take orders? Is that it? Huh? Jimmy's soft on you?"
Pete's eyebrows scrunch together, he can feel the anger pouring off his skin, and he can hear the jealousy tearing through his voice.
"Gary?"
Pete yelps when he feels Gary's arms harshly wrapping around his body, pulling him back into his bulky chest. His large hands easily confine him, one hand on his torso, the other on his groin.
"G-Gary," this time Pete shrieks, jerking to break away from his hold. Pete's left arm is pinned against his body and he strains to break away leaning from the lips buzzing in his ear.
"I think you've forgotten Femme-boy, you chose Jimmy over me and I let it slide, but now," Gary voice whispers, his tone bitterly icy, "Now, you've completely forgotten just who it is that you belong to."
Pete twists franticly to get out of Gary's stone-like grip, his body halts when Gary's fingers curve, brushing over his groin.
"Wha- what are you doing," Pete chokes out, face going red. He feels the other's lips smirking against the back of his neck.
Panic floods Pete's senses and his mind races, 'Get away,' it keeps screaming, 'Get away from him!'
"Don't Gary!"
His pink shirt is pulled untucked and immediately Gary's dry fingertips are slowly gliding over his skin. His eyes widen when his fingers circle around the sensitive skin of his nipple.
Gary gradually teases before finally pinching, causing a whine to leak past Pete's lips. He manages to choke out another protest before Gary continues, making sure both of his nipples are hardened before he moves his other hand against his groin.
Pete pushes against Gary's hold with his right arm, trying as hard as he can to break away.
'Oh god, his hands… No.'
His body is against him, and when his legs give he caves in on himself, allowing Gary to continue.
His hand wraps around Gary's wrist, his fingernails digging into his skin, feeling Gary's hand move with each stroke.
"No," Pete whispers. His blood rushing below his belt line and his member twitches toward Gary's fingers. He shivers, his knees wobbling as Gary manages his most direct squeeze yet.
"I'm barely touching you Femme-boy," Gary snickers as Pete's stomach begins to rise and fall more rapidly. "You're already this hard?"
A small moan slips past Pete's lips, causing his ears to flush bright red. He bites his bottom lip in to keep himself quiet, leaning his forehead against Gary's throat and letting small 'mmm's' slip past his lips as pleasure prickles up his stomach.
The friction of Gary's hand against his slacks is starting to make his body ache for more; the pleasure is taking over, slowing his brain and making him pant as his body heats up.
Amazing, absolutely amazing. Wasn't it just moments ago that Petey was begging him to stop? Now he's just given up?
Gary smirks, the amount of power he has over Petey topped with the sexual frustration that has steadily been growing for almost two months, is just too impossible stop now. Especially all the noises he is making, small and whiny, slipping past his lips.
The way he's twists but never really tries to get away, and the way he freezes whenever something feels particularly good to him.
Gary's normally racing mind is hazed, only able focus on the way Pete's skin feels against his lips.
Only Petey can slow his brain like this; only Petey can make him focus on the thing right in front of him.
He pulls his hand away, knowing he won't last. It causes Petey to groan and twist in his grip once again. With a quick tug Gary slams Petey into the wall that separates the two side-by-side stalls.
There's a spilt second when Gary turns away from him and toward the door, a heated panic spreads through Pete's stomach. He darts for the exit, desperate to reach the clear, only to be grabbed just above his elbow and shoved back.
There's a loud click as the stall door is locked, and dark brown eyes turn to glare at him, "Don't run off Femme-boy, the fun has just begun."
Pete squirms, trying to push the other away.
Gary grabs his hands and pins them against the wall behind Pete's head.
Pete flattens his back against the wall as a last resort, wriggling in the uncomfortable position of his wrists held together. All of his struggling stops when he suddenly feels those lips brushing softly against his neck. The sensation makes his skin prickle in an odd sense of pleasure. He chews his bottom lip in desperation, listening to the sound of Gary slowly inhaling, as if taking in his scent.
"Gary please, don't,"
"What's wrong Petey," Gary barely whispers.
Smoldering warmth rushes through Pete's body at the haunting sound of Gary's voice vibrating in his ear; Gary's cheek nudges against his as if he's being marked as Gary's territory. Gary smirks when he feels Pete's muscles tense.
"Don't like me anymore?"
Pete's breath hitches, but he doesn't speak when he feels Gary's fingers on the button of his pants, pulling the zipper undone.
"Gary what are you doing," Pete whispers, trying to twist away from Gary's touch, "We can't do this h-ere," His voice cracks when he feels those rough fingertips running along the rim of his underwear.
His struggle intensifies, "I'm serious, stop!"
Gary's intimidating eyes slide into contact with his, with a threat hidden behind his harsh glare. It makes Pete's eyes widen in fear. He swallows and opens his mouth to beg when his pants are pushed off his hips causing them to drop to his ankles. His hip buck forward harshly when Gary's hand suddenly gropes his erection through his boxers.
A muffled moan meets Gary's ears and he sneers, he hates it when Petey tries to hold his voice down; it makes it a challenge, makes Gary have to push and work to make little Femme-boy whimper. He tugs at Petey's boxers, pulling them down.
"No! Gary! Someone will-"
He's helpless; he gasps, freezing when he feels Gary's tongue sliding against his skin. Instantly his face lifts, reveling in the feeling of Gary's mouth licking a slow, hot trial down his neck.
Gary keeps his lips pressed against to Petey's addicting skin, and pushes Petey's shirt back up before trailing his hand back down Petey's torso. Stopping when his hand is met with Petey's weeping erection.
"Nn-no," He hears Petey whimper.
He's gripping Gary's teal sweater, shaking his head back and forth with his eyes sealed shut, like he's trying to block what happening.
Gary releases Petey's wrists, and suddenly drops to his knees.
Horrifying shock zips up Pete's spine, making him slap his hands over him mouth.
'No, Gary! Please don't do it like this, not your mouth, I can't handle it!'
A hand harshly claps around one his ankles and roughly pulls it from his shoe and pant leg. Gary stands back to his feet, wrapping Pete's bare leg around his hip. Petey opens his mouth to protest but he's stopped by the Gary shushing him.
He watches the other in front of him slowly lick his own fingers, obscenely teasing him.
"You miss me Femme-boy," The older suddenly states.
There is a sharp pain that shots up Pete's spine when Gary suddenly pushes his now slicked finger into his entrance, forcing Pete to let out a low hiss as he sucks air in through his teeth. His muscles squeeze.
"Don't you," the other demands.
Pete blushes a deep shade of red when Gary's opposite hand strokes against his member.
"Ye-s," Petey confesses, humiliation coloring his face even deeper.
A second finger forces its way inside and Gary begins to scissor. Pete grips the boy in front of him desperately, burying his face into his teal sweater-vest trying to hide his light sobs of pain.
He wants to tell the other to hurry, but he keeps himself quiet by biting his trembling lower lip. It's barely enough to keep him from crying out when those fingers bend against his prostate.
The pain rapidly turns to pleasure and Pete's hips buck moving against those fingers.
Gary pushes Pete back into the wall behind him and spreads his legs, making the heat double. Then Gary curls his fingers once more. A smirk sliding across his lips when a strangled moan meets his ears.
"G-Gary," Petey sobs, his neck arched back, sweat clinging to his skin. His body is burning with desire. "Please no… no more," his breath almost sounds wheezy.
Gary slowly runs his tongue up Pete's sweat salted neck, listening to Pete's moans echo off the walls around them. Petey's grunts fill Gary's ears, making it difficult for him to think straight.
"Please," Petey finally whimpers, giving up completely. His legs spread further apart.
The next thing he knows Gary is pushing inside and Pete's teeth are biting into Gary's shirt to keep himself from crying out. When the twinge of pain twists through Gary's body it causes him to arch forward.
And then Gary moans, long and deeply.
Pete hears Gary curse, and then his hand shoves him back. "Stop that Pete," he says through gritted teeth.
The heated push-pull rhythm begins, Gary's hips digging upward into the other, making Petey gasp and rock back. It's desperate and frantic, with Gary moving quickly, and Petey struggling to keep up.
"G-ah! Gary, slow do-wn! It hurts," he finally cries.
Pete's body is buzzing with the constant wave of pleasure racing through his veins.
Gary keeps thrusting forcefully and Pete's body bucks back, squeezing his leg wrapped around the Gary's waist, attempting to get as much as humanly possible. His fingers dig into that teal sweater-vest, his forehead against Gary's shoulder, watching the others hips moving back and forth, feeling each hit.
"G-Gary," Pete is begging, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, his muscles clenching tightly with each of Gary's thrusts.
His body is on fire, aching for release, two months without and all his stamina is gone. He's panting heavily, needing air in his lungs, trying to breathe in all this heat. Just when he thinks he can't take anymore a hand wraps around his erection, pumping it perfectly with each thrust.
The heat intensifies, and Petey's entire body tightens, he's so close.
"Gary nah-no, I-I'm-"
He wants to tell him to slow down, he doesn't want it to be over already, he doesn't want Gary to disappear into the dark again.
His last protest is never spoken and he arches forward as Gary's hips roll forward, his vision goes white and he releases harshly. He feels Gary's heat filling him.
And then it's over.
Gary falls against him while they both gasp air back into their lungs. Petey clings to him, shuddering as his muscles spasm with the tightness finally relieved. It hurts when Gary suddenly pulls away.
His light brown eyes, glazed over with pleasure, look for Gary's face.
He's greeted with that same expression, it's been so long since he's seen it that it catches him off guard.
A hand is cupped over Gary's mouth; his thick eyebrows knitted upward, his face covered in a heavy shade of red. He'd forgotten about this part… the part when Gary looks so humiliated. Pete looks away; Gary looks so weak.
He briskly turns away, fixing his clothing before leaving Pete in the stall.
Pete hears the sink running and imagines Gary cleaning himself up further. He can picture that hateful look on his face, the way his jaw is clenched, and the way he's moving faster just so he can get away from his own reflection.
He wonders if Gary even really likes him…
His whole body goes numb and with his last ounce of strength he pushes himself away from the wall he's been leaning on, ignores the painful ache in his back and pulls his clothing back on.
After a few long moments he manages to stumble out of the stall completely clothed, and decently clean. His russet eyes search for him but the bathroom is deserted.
Gary is gone once again.
Pete seals his emotions off; he will deal with this later. Right now…
'There's no way I can go back to class now,' He's thinking to himself, he gravitates forward, falling against a set of lockers to keep himself off the ground. He's not entirely sure how he got here so quickly…
He's wrecked, he can't even stand up completely, the way he's leaned against these lockers make him look like another drunken hobo in New Coventry.
"You there," a harsh voice shouts, it causes Pete's body to tense but he's too exhausted to actually jump in fear. "What are you doing in the hallways, get to class."
Pathetic russet eyes look up at the large prefect tormenting him. He watches the anger slowly dissolve into concern. Apparently it was one of the prefects that actually had a heart.
"Are you alright? You look ill."
'Ill?' He was covered in sweat, his clothes all wrinkled and twisted, he's freakishly pale and can't even stand up straight; he should look like the walking dead.
"I just threw-up," Pete lies; the large prefect takes a step back, as if he'd catch the disease Pete has. His cold eyes scan the area for something. His eyebrows rise when he seems to find it. "Smith," he suddenly shouts.
Pete's last thread of hope shreds itself at the sound of that name. He follows the prefect's line of sight, and sure enough Gary is pretending to be looking for something in his locker. He can't help but notice that even from where he's standing, Gary looks exhausted too. He's less obvious about it, but he's leaned against his locker too. He also looks thoroughly pissed with himself.
He watches those dark brown eyes snap toward the prefect with a hateful sneer.
"Escort this boy back to the dorms," The prefect demands, totally unfazed by Gary's glare.
Pete drops his gaze to the floor. He doesn't want to see the look on Gary's face, doesn't want to see those menacing eyes. Instead he stays where he is; face down, avoiding all eye contact, wishing he could just disappear into thin air.
Black shoes come into his line of sight and a large hand wraps around his arm, just above his elbow. It jerks Petey away from the lockers.
"Come on princess," Gary scolds, shoving Pete forward.
For the rest of the trip no words are exchanged, not even a glance, just unnerving silence and the feeling of Gary's hand, wrapped lightly around his wrist, as he is practically dragged back to the dorms.
Everything after that is a blur…
That dark purple bruise on Gary's shoulder from where Pete bit him, two days later when he walked in on Gary changing, and that noise he made when he lifted his arms to pull his shirt off, sucking air in through his teeth as if the bruise was hurting him…
All the months that slid by unnoticed…
Watching everything that Jimmy had won over the year crumble in one day, then hearing the story a million times about how he somehow came back at won in the end…
That stupid, empty bed frame that haunts Pete every morning, reminding him that the other is really gone, and all those endless rumors of him being put in Happy Volts Insane Asylum, jail, and the most creative, that he is secretly living up in the school's bell tower where he and Jimmy fought their final battle…
He still seemed to be everywhere, buzzing around the school, sticking to each person's lips as the rumors grow out of control.
Gary was really gone, right? No matter what the rumors claimed, no matter what gossip spread.
He could be forgiven for thinking his trouble with Gary Smith was over