Hey guys! So this is a quick story idea I'm using to get myself back into writing. I'm planning a second, and final, chapter to be posted on 7/5.
"Alright drop them," Benny says unceremoniously. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes on Ethan's crotch expectantly. A pen waits sedately in his hand above the yellow memo pad propped on his thigh.
Ethan winces. They have already discussed the options here. The obviously magic-in-nature markings that he noticed on his penis this morning don't show up on camera or in the mirror. Benny had also pointed out that even if Ethan could bend in half, he couldn't read Latin.
So now Ethan nervously fumbles the button of his jeans.
It's stupid. Benny's seen Ethan naked before: occasional mishaps with unlocked doors, that one time where Ethan was a werewolf… At sleepovers they both sleep in boxers. Besides, this was basically a doctor's visit.
"Deadpool, nice." Benny comments idly on the pattern of Ethan's underwear.
For a moment Ethan considers if he should shuck off his boxers as well, but it feels less naked to pull his penis out through the fly of his boxers. It flops out like a fat worm.
"Grab the tip," Benny instructs, titling his head as he immediately begins trying to read the shimmery yellow symbols.
"What?" Ethan's voice is thin and wispy. The possibly Latin text shifts from a strong opaque yellow to nearly translucent in waves. Ethan wonders again if this indicates the spell hasn't fully developed yet. Another element of terror in this already fraught situation.
Benny looks up to meet Ethan's eyes incredulously. "Would you rather I manhandle your manmeat for you?" Benny offers sarcastically. With his teasing smile and slumped back posture, Benny could be jibing Ethan for being squeamish about his knee caps being touched. Which he did yesterday.
Ethan forces out a stealing breath, and wraps his fingers around the head of his penis. It makes him feel less vulnerable with just the shaft of his member exposed.
Benny repositions Ethan with guiding pressure on his wrist bones, masterfully avoiding any dick touching. His other hand pulls the Deadpool boxers taunt against Ethan's body. Benny's eyes flick back and forth critically; it's the same as when he's reading a word problem from his math book. Curious and focused.
In sharp contrast Ethan decides to stare at wall beyond Benny's head, breathing through the weirdness. The sensation of his flaccid member being pulled up against his hip, his fingers holding on just tightly enough to keep it from slipping out… He can't divorce himself from the awareness and he's terrified the stimulation will affect his body.
Benny keeps one hand on Ethan's hip, holding his boxers down, while the other transcribes the symbols onto paper. Ethan just listens to the pen scratch across the page, hoping that Benny's handwriting will be legible. He's not risking looking down.
Benny keeps repositioning him, like his junk is the big hand on a clock, so that he can read all sides. After some time, he speaks up, his tone reluctantly breaking bad news, "You know how if you write on a balloon when it's blown up, the words are really teeny when the balloon is deflated?"
"Yeah," Ethan says to the wall. He thinks he knows where Benny is going with this.
"I'm going to stretch your dick out," Benny says already putting the words into action, tugging on Ethan's wrist.. It actually- it actually doesn't feel bad. Just strange. Just more sensation. Another thing that makes it more difficult to not think about being exposed in front of Benny...
Oh god, that's Benny's breath. On him, right there.
When Benny occasionally gets serious enough to really focus on something, he does this thing where he lets his mouth hang open. Like it requires actual concentration to keep it closed and he can't manage it. And now that habit is causing hot breath to whisper over Ethan's genitalia.
If he can feel Benny's breath, how close is his mouth?
Ethan fervently wishes he had some kind of control over his body. He's barely hard, and being stretched out. Maybe Benny won't notice.
The noise of the pen stops. "Uh…" He's noticed.
Ethan shuts his eyes preparing for whatever horrible embarrassment awaits him.
"I have to start over," Benny states and Ethan hears paper ripping. "And you're going to have to pump that baby up."
Ethan opens his eyes confused, "What?"
"When your little guy was sleeping this looked like an 'A,'" Ethan feels a pen gently jab him and he meeps a protest reflexively. "Sorry," Benny says briefly before continuing with his explanation. "But now that he's waking up I can tell there's at least one barb on the tale of the 'A.' It could be important."
Mortification and relief mix uncomfortably in his stomach. An actual erection seems like a lot to ask for. "Benny I can't just… do that. Here, in front of you," Ethan works the words out.
"Right," Benny agrees easily, pushing himself up from the bed and making to leave the room.
"Wait, Benny…" Ethan whimpers, feeling lost.
"Yeah?" Benny asks, halting his progress towards the door.
Ethan grimaces, looking over shoulder at Benny and keeping his hips pointed away from his best friend. "I don't think I can do that at all," he admits.
"Porn," Benny replies decisively, stalking over his computer. He shakes the mouse to bring the screen to life.
"Benny, I don't really masturbate," Ethan says to Benny's back as he types out his password. There's no lock on his bedroom door, and his nosy younger sister refuses to learn the concept of boundaries.
Benny laughs, "Yeah right." He's navigating through a folder of questionable thumbnails. The boys had never really talked about it, but Ethan finds himself surprised that Benny does masturbate, and that he watches porn on top of that.
"No really, Benny. I only… do that in the morning. In the shower. And I'm already, you know." Ethan is cupping himself as he turns around.
"And that is what the porn is for, my friend." Benny waves at his computer, confidence clear in his voice.
Ethan gulps. How does he tell Benny that the idea of pornography puts him off. That and knowing that Benny would know he was masturbating, Ethan highly doubted he could get himself erect. Even his morning ritual was more mechanical than actually pleasurable.
Maybe his expression tells Benny because suddenly he lets his hand fall off the mouse and sighs. "Okay so no porn. Do you want to spend the night? Do this again tomorrow when you got morning wood?"
It's a reasonable, reassuring suggestion. Ethan nods gratefully, quickly tucking himself back into his underwear.
Benny grabs his grimoire off his desk and flops back-first onto his bed. Ethan pulls his pants up. His boxers bunch a little uncomfortably, but he sits down on the edge of the bed anyway. After a moment's thought, Ethan fishes his phone out and plays flappy bird. He can't concentrate.
"You aren't going to tell anyone about this right?" Ethan asks seeking reassurance.
"Hey! Give me some credit, dude!" Benny protests shoving Ethan's back with his foot.
"Yeah okay," Ethan smiles gratefully, settling into a Saturday of goofing off.