"Would you stop fucking around and sink it in already?"
Charles huffed in impatience, glaring at Jay. Jay slid his hard pole between his fingers, cocking his head in concentration as he debated the pros and cons of coming in from a right angle, a left angle, or just slamming it in dead center as hard as he could.
"Don't rush me," he muttered, fiddling with his stick. "Hasn't anyone told you patience is a virtue?"
"Whoever said that obviously didn't have any experience with you," the blonde grumped, squirming in place. "Jay JUST FUCKING PUT IT IN!"
"FINE!" He shot back, slamming forward and sending the ball spinning towards the corner pocket… glancing off the striped purple and ricocheting off in the completely opposite direction than he wanted it to go. "Fuck! You did that on purpose!"
Charles tilted his head, giving Jay an especially smarmy grin.
"Who, me? My shot I believe."
Jay slumped back against the empty pool table behind them, tilting his cue and stacking his hands over the tip, resting his chin on his wrist. Whatever possessed him to invite Charles, Metis and Josh to play hooky from the last two periods after lunch and go shoot pool at his uncle Benny's hall with him was probably the same entity that had coaxed Metis and Josh to refuse said invitation. Who even knew what two strapping, virile young boys could get up to all by themselves. Unsupervised. Jay rolled his eyes. He had seen the gleam in Josh's eyes before the jock had hurriedly turned down his offer. Poor Josh. He was probably at-this-moment exchanging hurried kisses with his favorite pet emo, scrunched up behind the bleachers of the gym or leaning heavily against the door to his car, listening to Metis stammer and splutter his way through excuses on why he wasn't ready. Jay grinned down at his high tops. May was so fucking predictable.
"Stop drooling into your sneakers and take a shot already. I scratched."
Jay lifted his eyes, blinking at Charles. Charles blinked back.
"I know I'm gorgeous Jay, but really, can't you concentrate on the game long enough for me to beat the pants off of you?"
"We'll see whose pants come off first," Jay shot back, lining up his shot and sinking three balls in rapid succession with solid clunks rattling into the wooden pockets.
"Side pocket."
"Stop telling me how to play pool! Why do you have to be in control of everything?" Jay bent low over the side, half sprawled across the green felt. His fingers gripped the smooth cue, sending the polished wood in and out of his fingers as he sighted down its length. He inhaled slowly, trying to ignore the stare of his opponent currently burning a hole into the back of his jeans. "Stop staring at my ass," he muttered, aiming at the corner pocket… and missing. Blowing a strand of black hair off his face, he let his chin fall to the rough fabric, eyes closing for a moment. This just wasn't working. He was totally off his game.
And really didn't that just completely sum up his entire experience with Charles?
Crawling off the table, he leaned one hip against the side and flicked his bangs behind his shoulder with a negligent gesture of his wrist. His uncle poked his skinny neck out of the office in back, struggling into a garishly bright green and purple Hawaiian shirt as his body followed his bobbing head a second later. Charles completely ignored the man, turning his back and touching his chin with a crooked forefinger, regarding the table carefully as if it were a chessboard of the utmost importance. Probably imagining the remaining balls on the felt as advancing and retreating armies in the Northern Central African Republic, a cauldron of unrest since its borders boiled over from Chad and the Sudan… Jay reminded himself to stop watching CNN with Charles after they had had sex. He theorized that the mush his brain was in after a particularly stellar orgasm left it exceptionally susceptible to international news bulletins.
"Jay-Jay, I have to run across town for a late lunch with Lula and Gigi. Think you can hold down the fort here for the rest of the afternoon? At least until four? Then you can close and throw a party for all I care."
"Sure Uncle Benny, no prob," Jay looked around the deserted pool hall as Charles lazily twisted chalk into the tip of his pool cue. "The keys still over the door?" His uncle nodded, palming a particularly ugly checkered hat from the hat stand near the door, plopping it on his balding head. For the umpteenth billion time, Jay thanked the powers that be that he had not inherited his fashion sense from his father's side of the family. Flashing a vague peace sign and reminding them not to do "anything I wouldn't do, harr harr harr," Benny ducked out with a rattle of keys and the tinkling of the bell over the door. Charles blew on the top of his cue, setting the chalk square down with a muffled click on the polished dark wood of the cue stand.
"Who the hell are Lula and Gigi?"
Jay sighed, hanging his cue up on the stand and dragging a rickety stool over to the game table, hooking his heels on the rungs and propping his elbows on his knees, chin in hands as he watched his boyfriend methodically sink ball after ball.
"My uncle's girlfriend and her pet Chihuahua."
"Which is which?"
"I really don't know. I never asked."
"Hmmm."
There was something really sexy about the way Charles worked the table, angling low and high, green eyes focused one hundred percent on the next target to be obliterated. Jay smiled, shivering lightly. He knew what it was like to have all of that intense concentration on his body, possessively claiming him like a plot of land in Uganda.
"You know …on a pool table is number 37 on my List."
Jay caught his breath, his body freezing up. An instant flash of heat shot through his body, leaving him trembling and almost weak in its wake. Oh fuck no he hadn't just… Charles hadn't even looked up when he had said it, the tip of his pink tongue touching along his upper lip as he took a shot, then adjusted his cue for the next line up.
The List. Oh fuck.
The List list, with a capital 'L.' The List of places Charles wanted to fuck before he died. It was extensive. It had bullet points and footnotes. It had maps and diagrams. It fit in a large three ring binder. Jay swallowed. He had personally helped Charles achieve numbers 8, 17-21, 44-49, 82, and by an extraordinary stroke of luck via their class trip to Mexico last spring break… 106. Much as it pained him to admit it, he wanted to cross every single last one of them off the list with Charles. From all the way to the bottom of the Grand Canyon on a donkey, to the Queen's rose beds at Windsor at dusk, to the bell tower of the Pink Pagoda in Seoul Korea during the festival of Chrysanthemums. Jay wanted it all. Damn Charles for making him greedy. And Charles knew the effect the mere mention of the epic List had on the two-tone haired boy's libido, the conniving letch.
Jay waited impatiently, knowing what would come next. But only when Charles was completely done with his task, not a moment before. He stayed quiet as the pale blonde finally sent the 8 ball spinning into a corner pocket, straightening and turning to him.
"So… you up for a game?"
Jay moaned, stumbling off his stool eagerly, legs tangling in the rungs and almost sending him face first to the ground. Charles' eyes were half slitted in murderous pleasure, that look half way between calculating satisfaction that all of his equations were coming out perfectly, and a greedy appraisal of the sudden windfall of a particularly valuable asset that was sure to satisfy his every whim. Jay absolutely hated that look. Partially because it meant Charles had already planned out exactly the next 25 minutes of their lives. Also because it meant Charles knew he was going to get what he wanted.
Mostly Jay hated that look because it sent unknown, frustratingly predictable signals to his cock, making him stiffen and harden in immediate response. And Charles knew it. Jay hated that look.
Tossing the pool cue to the side, Charles slid his hands into Jay's hair, mouth fighting for dominance in a clash of teeth and lips and short strained breaths. Jay groaned, feeling Charles propelling him backwards, the backs of his thighs hitting a pool table. His hands clutched at the blonde's shoulders, his back, groped at his waist, trying desperately to hold on to something, anything. Charles had always proven difficult to grasp, in all senses of the word.
"C-charles…" Jay gasped between rough kisses as the other pushed him down across the worn green felt, his long hair splaying across its lawn in shining curls of pale white gold and splashes of dyed black. "Shouldn't you be the one-?"
Jay kind of lost his train of thought when Charles gripped the edges of his shirt and ripped it straight down the middle, sending buttons pinging and bouncing every which way. Jay swallowed. Alright, note to self… don't wear button down shirts around Charles he thought to himself vaguely, hands hurriedly pulling the loose gray turtleneck up and over Charles' head to leave him naked from the waist up as well. When his hands fells to those khaki slacks the pale misfit slapped his fingers away, growling in impatience. Charles was a man on a mission, and there would be no deviating from the plan. And for now the plan seemed to be aimed towards ridding Jay of the lime green jeans currently encasing his throbbing cock and trembling legs. Charles yanked those tight, garishly green pants down around his ankles, not bothering to pull them all the way off as he shimmied out of his own slacks and boxers, toeing off his shoes and socks one by one before climbing up onto the table, his knees sending stripes and solids scattering left and right.
"I know what I'm doing," he muttered, pale body washed in the colored glass lighting overhead, hexagons of pink and purple spotlighting his nipples, orange and green marching down his abdomen. Then his mouth was washing over Jay's twitching erection and Jay was washing over the slide from coherent to incoherent, where all thought save for there and oh and yes were swept away.
Jay was pretty sure he made a strangled noise that sounded like, 'Charles if you don't stop I'm going over this waterfall by myself and I'm not going to have any pity on you if you're left behind without a paddle to your name and it's possible I'm hearing the star spangled banner which is completely inappropriate because who wants to hear patriotic songs when they're getting a blowjob from the close cousin to the Hoover family' but could also have sounded like 'ughleph.'
Either way, Charles got the message.
Pulling back with a low gasp, the blonde admired the slick gloss of Jay's saliva coated prick, licking his lips and gripping it by the base as he climbed up over Jay's hips. Keeping it stiff and sticking straight up, Charles crouched over him on his knees, rubbing that throbbing slick head against his hole, up and down, his face tilted down, pale hair framing his face as he rocked against Jay. Jay watched that look of intense concentration, his hands filling with Charles' shoulders, squeezing his upper arms, trailing down to his waist to grip for leverage.
"Charles…" he groaned, trying to make the boy sit. "I need –"
"Shut up Jay, I know what you need," Charles growled, tilting his head up long enough to glare at Jay. His flushed cheeks betrayed how much it cost him to keep from plunging down on that stiff pole, so close and mouthwateringly slick. "And believe me, you're going to get it."
For a split second Jay debated defying Charles, shoving him off and telling him nothing was worth all these stupid power plays and control issues. Except then Charles was sinking down on top of him, and damn he was tight, and yeah there was absolutely no way Jay was letting go of those hips.
So maybe it was worth it.
"Ohhh…"
Jay was pretty sure that breathy little moan hadn't come from him. Because he didn't sound that girly. Right? But the only alternative was that it had come from Charles, and that was really inconceivable. Charles braced his hands on Jay's chest, his head snapping back with an arch of his neck and a toss of his hair, coming to rest fully against Jay's thighs. Jay gritted his teeth.
And then they were moving.
Not just Charles, because Charles never accepted less than 100 participation. Jay's hips were arching up to meet every downward grind of Charles' ass, and Charles was gripping Jay by the hair and hauling him up to meet him for a bruising kiss, groaning and biting at his lips. Jay just tried to keep up, his fingers whitening on the other's hips as he helped him undulate and rock up and down, his toes curling in his shoes, still tangled with his jeans around his ankles.
"Fuck, Charles!"
"Yeah, there, there, there! Yes, harder! Harder!" Charles hissed, and Jay tried his best to oblige, thighs tensing, heels digging into the green felt as he arched and thrust up into his lover's hot, willing body. Charles dug his nails into Jay's chest; the kiss breaking off and Jay's head slamming back down to the table and making him wince. He was about to complain but Charles and his damn tantra training were already rippling and shuddering around Jay, his face flushed and dotted with sweat, his hair sticking to the sides of his face like wet corn stalk silk.
"Yes…" he hissed, eyes slitted as he glared down at Jay, his riding pace increasing, harder and faster now, a headlong gallop to the finish line. Jay gulped, holding onto those hips for dear life, working up and down like oil drills frantically plunging in a race to reach the center of the earth. Charles always got this way, cool to start but in the throes of passion white hot and impossible to stop.
"That's it Jay, right there, right there!" He groaned out, his thighs trembling as he arched his back and slammed down harder. Jay was pretty sure if Charles kept up this pace, he was going to make him pass out soon. "Oh fuck yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Uhn, deeper! Fuck me harder!" Charles' voice was getting louder and louder, breaking and surging like a powerful tide. A dim part of Jay's mind could tell he was close, his voice always strained up at the end like that when he was about to –
Charles' fingers dug into Jay's chest, raking a sharp trail from his shoulders down to his stomach as he clenched tight around Jay's cock, so fucking tight, his head thrown back, a guttural groan easing from his clenched jaw as he came, untouched cock jerking and spasming against his stomach.
"Charles…" Jay groaned, hips starting to push up at him, wanting the same. Charles always took care of him if he came first, he knew any second now they would start to move again, and that shaking sheath of Charles' body would feel even better, and maybe if he could hold out long enough he could make Charles cum again, and –
"OhmyGOD!"
…
He knew that voice. Oh… oh fuck, he knew that voice… The immediacy of his approaching orgasm promptly died a mortified death. He knew that voice.
Twisting and squirming on the pool table, Jay tilted his head back to catch an upside down glimpse of two shocked faces, one slowly flushing red with flaming horror and embarrassment, the other going almost white with shock. Jay closed his eyes and tried to sink into the table. Charles was still perched on his hips, panting, a rustling of clothing telling Jay he was already pulling his shirt on. But he didn't get off. Jay tried to imagine a worse situation. Actually, he really didn't want to think of what could be worse than Josh and Metis walking in on them having sex. In broad daylight. In his uncle's pool hall. On one of his uncle's pool tables. Oh fuck they had forgotten to lock the door. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.
"Close your mouth May, you're letting the flies in." That was Charles. Cool and unflappable as always. It was as if he hadn't just had an intense orgasm while riding another boy's cock. Jay sighed. It just wasn't fair.
An emo squeak emerged from the other side of the room.
"But you! You were! And he! Ohmigawd! Since when have you guys! How long! I can't believe you didn't tell me you were! AND IN A PUBLIC PLACE!"
"Metis, maybe we should let them get dressed. Or um… at least let Charles get off Jay."
Jay made a mental note to take Josh out for lunch sometime. Or a billion times. The boy was the picture of sensitivity, a light scuffling across the floor as he led his boyfriend away from the two sprawled across the pool table. Jay opened his eyes to find Charles smiling down at him. He looked up at him with horror.
"What…" he choked out, "the hell're you grinning about!?"
Charles just smiled.
"I was just thinking. Now I don't have to have an awkward talk with Metis about us dating."
Jay was pretty sure he hated him. Or he would hate him, just as soon as Charles stopped kissing him and making him need him more than his next breath. How could Charles affect him this way? He always had complete control, even in a situation like this. It just wasn't fair.