Warning: There's sexual behavior and language, and a tiny bit of molestation ahead. Reader beware.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders.
He couldn't have been anymore ticked off.
Ponyboy had been fuming ever since Steve and Two-Bit picked him up by the steps of the school, and the whole drive home. Neither Steve nor Two-Bit wanted to ask the question that was hanging in the air, as they were both terrified of the outcome. They could both tell that Pony was a time bomb waiting to go off on the first person that tested his patience, and neither of them wanted to be that person. It was at a red light that Steve mouthed the words, "We should let Dally handle it," at Two-Bit, who agreed without question.
When they reached the house, Pony got out, slammed the door shut, and stomped up the driveway without so much as a, "Bye, guys," to the two that remained in the car.
"What," Steve started, "The hell was his issue?" They'd only ever seen Pony get this angry once before, and that had been the time they learned that it was best to keep their mouths shut around him. After all, the kid was never angry, and you better be damn sure that whatever or whomever it was that got him angry would regret it once Dally or either of his brothers found out.
"I don't even know if I want to find out," Two-Bit tried to see if he could spot the kid through the window. "Man, what the hell!"
"Should one of us go and check on him, or at least see if Dally's inside with him?" Steve asked, trying his hardest to conceal the concern he had for the boy.
"Good idea, wouldn't want him to hurt himself or do anything dumb," he stared at Steve expectantly. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Go check on him!" Steve was about to object, but Two-Bit was too fast. "It was your idea, so you get the honor of checking on the queen ."
"You go, he likes you better,"
"But," Two-Bit placed his finger on his nose childishly, "Nose goes!"
"I'll fucking kill you, Mathews," Steve declared, but otherwise stepped out of the car.
Pony paced in front of Dally, occasionally shoving objects out of his way, and punching into the sofa. Those Socs had some fucking nerve. After about two minutes of this uncharacteristic behavior, Dally finally asked less than politely, "What the fuck is wrong with you."
Wrong question.
There seemed to be an intense fire blazing behind his eyes, fueled by the actions of the a couple Socs in Chemistry earlier today, and ignited by the insensitivity of his boyfriend. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" Pony roared, "What the fuck is wrong with Socs!"
Dally's ears perked up, "What'd they do?"
Pony really didn't want to tell Dally; he would no doubted kill every Social in his Chemistry class the minute he found out, but Pony was so furious that it outweighed any rational thought and he blabbed.
He was sitting at his desk in fourth period Chemistry. They were working on a project today, one that required the mixing of potentially explosive compounds, and the excitement for the lab couldn't be contained in the boy. Well, that was until his teacher realized that there weren't enough beakers for everyone to do the experiment on their own, and announced that everyone would have to split up into groups of four.
It was at times like these that Pony really wished that he was dumber and in the regular classes with all the other greasers. Finding a partner in a room full of people that thought you were trash was tough enough on its own, but finding three other people to work with would be the epitome of impossible. His plan was to sit back and watch awkwardly as everyone else sat down at tables with their groups, and wait for the teacher to ask if anyone still needed someone to work with. Then he would raise his hand with his head lowered, and work with the group that the teacher would assign him to. That's usually how it worked anyway.
This time was different though; this time a group of three boys crowded around his table, smirking menacingly down at him.
"I suppose we'll let you work with us then, grease-monkey," one of them said. Pony was almost positive that his name was Jeff or something like that, but then again, he never really cared much to learn any of their names properly.
Pony wasn't about to stir up any trouble so he remained silent. The teacher handed out lab instructions, showed everyone where the supplies were, and then instructed everyone to begin. Pony reached out for the instructions so he could get started, after all, the final product was due at the end of class and there was only half an hour left.
Jeff was faster though. His eyes scanned the sheet, and when he was done, he asked rudely, "What the hell is 'C6H12O6'? Is that even anything that we have at the school?"
One of his friends, Mike, snatched the paper up from him, and stared at it. "I think that's a drug," he concluded.
'I'm going to fail,' Pony thought dramatically.
The third friend's name was Harry, and he looked at the two of them as though they were idiots, "It's not a drug, you dumb fuck," Pony mentally sighed, at least there was one person in this group that knew something as simple as the chemical structure of sugar. Maybe he wouldn't totally fail this project. "It's salt! Geez, how the hell did you get into an advanced class in the first place, I swear."
Pony was doomed.
"It's sugar," Pony contributed, "Well, glucose, really."
The three of them stared at the small greaser, as though it was his fault that they sounded like morons for not knowing something as simple as that. Had they not taken any notes last week?
"Who said you could speak?" Jeff asked.
"Well…," Pony started.
"Well, nothing! You keep your mouth shut! There's no way we're going to flunk this project because of a dumb greaser that got lucky and landed in this class."
A few other students had turned in their seats to find out what was going on, and Pony didn't really want to look like a weakling in front of the other Socs. He was a greaser after all, and greasers weren't ever submissive, even when they were outnumbered.
"If we fail this it's gonna be your fault, not mine,"
Jeff's eyes narrowed, "Listen, you little—"
Harry placed a hand on Jeff's shoulder and leaned down to his ear. "It isn't worth it, Jeff. That's the Curtis kid, and he's friends with Dallas Winston and some of the toughest greasers on their side. If they find out you fucked with him…"
And Pony would admit it shamelessly; the fact that he was labeled 'dangerous' based off his friends was a massive ego boost. But really, how many Socs do you hear openly acknowledge the fact that his friends could potentially beat their heads in, and reconsider wailing on him? Not enough, apparently, considering Mike stepped up to him.
"Wait," Mike said as though he was realizing something big, "Is this Dallas Winston's bitch?" The portion of the class that was listening in began snickering at this comment.
Pony became furious. It wasn't that his and Dally's relationship was a secret or anything; Dally had threatened long ago to personally beat the tar out of anyone that gave either of them shit for their relationship, but the fact that he'd been referred to as his 'bitch' was irritating and downright degrading. The first time it had been said, he ignored it, but the few times after that made him tell his friends, and of course none of them hesitated to rip the culprits apart. Fortunately, that wasn't a problem anymore, just a couple dare-devils looking for an ass-whooping every now and again, and here he was faced with it again.
Mike moved in closer to the greaser seated on the stool, and there was nothing about his movement that Pony approved of. He nodded towards his friends, telling them to stand down, and they did, albeit tentatively. They knew Mike had a thing against Dallas Winston, and they weren't going to get involved in anything that happened in the class that day. No one would; they had no business to, but why couldn't they watch and listen and be up-to-date on the drama anyway?
"You must be one hell of a good fuck if Winston has kept you around this long," he goaded. "What's the secret?"
"Get away from me," Pony warned. The on-lookers had now poked their friends' shoulders, and soon everyone in the classroom was staring except the teacher, who was leaned back in his seat, reading a novel.
"You aren't very friendly, kid," Mike ignored his friends' subtle warning, and leaned in closer. "Come on, why don't you show me what it is you do that keeps Winston satisfied with you?" Then he did something unthinkable; his hand disappeared underneath the table, grabbing onto Pony's hand and placing it on his own crotch.
Pony's face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment as he pulled his hand back sharply. How dare he do that? How dare he? "Stop that!" The class was still staring, eyes full of lust for drama.
"Oh, come on," Mike tried again. "Dally won't mind if it's quick."
"He'd mind even if it wasn't!" Pony snapped.
"Come here," Mike drug Pony's stool closer, so that he was closer than he would have liked. "Don't scoot away from me, I know you want to." But he didn't. He really, really had no desire to touch anyone like that. Well… other than Dally, of course. And Paul Newman.
"Get off me," Pony whispered venomously. And when that disgusting hand started trailing up his thigh, Pony lost it. "I swear, Dally will kill you!"
"Mr. Curtis," the teacher finally decided to look up at the scene. "What is the meaning of all this?"
Pony wanted to tell him everything, from their idiocy of the experiment, to the name-calling, to the inappropriate touches, but those were heavy accusations, and he knew that the teacher wouldn't believe him unless he had someone to vouch for him. And looking at the other students, all of whom had become engulfed in their experiments, he knew no one would have a voice, so he let it go.
He'd moved to the other side of the table after that and refused to help them on the project after that. Needless to say, when they turned in a pile of shit at the end of class, they all received a failing grade.
Dallas was absolutely speechless by the end of the story, staring at the auburn-haired boy as if waiting for him to say that he was kidding. He didn't.
"I'll fucking murder them," Dally stated plainly. "What was his name? The one that touched you?"
Ponyboy smirked; he really hoped Dally would kill that motherfucker. Or at least hurt him really badly. And as he started giving his boyfriend more and more information on his attacker, the fury in Dally's eye flared more and more. It was something that Pony secretly found arousing. No one knew about this though, only Soda, as he'd let it slip once accidently. Ever since then, Soda was worried for the safety of his brother. After all, Dally was a dangerous hood with an even more dangerous temper; it wouldn't take long for Dally to bring harm to Pony, and the fact that Pony found that attractive really alarmed him.
"I'll fucking murder them!" Dally roared, and Pony couldn't help himself. He climbed onto his boyfriend, and planted a very heated kiss on his lips. For a moment, Dally was startled by the younger boy that seemed to appear out of nowhere, but when he finally snapped out of it, he responded with force. He was pissed, and normally he'd break faces to blow off steam; this was new.
Pony could feel it, there was something different about this kiss, and it turned him on like nothing else. He crawled into Dally's lap, straddling his hips and running his hand through the white-blond hair. Dally's tongue forced its way into Pony's mouth, unlike usual, where Dally waits for Pony to open it. His strong hands grabbed Pony's hips, slick fingers holding on firmly, attempting to get the young boy closer to him.
From inside the car, Two-Bit was becoming impatient. What the hell was Steve staring at through the window for so long? All he had to do was peak in, check if Dally was in the house, and walk away. He cranked the window down and poked his head out.
"Stevie darling," Two-Bit sing-songed at the greaser stationed at the window. "You shouldn't leave your date in the car!"
"Shh," Steve called back, and then motioned for him to head over. Two-Bit did so, mumbling that "it had better be a good reason."
"What is it that's kept you over here for twenty minutes—holy shit!"
Steve nudged him in the gut with his elbow, "Be quiet," he said. They were silent as they took in the skilled movements of Ponyboy's hips.
"Where the hell did he learn to do that?" Two-Bit whispered loudly, "That's fucking hot."
"You're telling me," Steve agreed. "It was totally random, too. He was telling Dally what happened at school that had him so pissed, and then Dally was getting ready to kick the guy's ass, and out of nowhere, the kid throws himself on top of him."
"What happened at school?"
Steve started to tell him, never once taking his eyes off the scene that was currently unfolding on the Curtis couch. Every now and again, the couple would do something that would make Steve or Two-Bit interrupt the story with a "shit" or a "holy fucking hell" or a "damn," and when Pony pulled Dally as seductively to the floor as he did, Steve gave up on sharing the story.
Pony loved the feeling of Dally on top of him, even if he was a bit heavy, mainly because Dally was took good care of him when he topped. He made sure that Pony was comfortable, that he wasn't hurting too bad and, most importantly, that he got off, but this time was different. Once Pony pulled them both to the floor, Dally rolled them over.
Without hesitation, Pony's hands shimmied down to Dally's belt.
Dally moaned quietly, "Mm, take your shirt off."
As if possessed, Ponyboy pulled his hands away from Dally's crotch, threw his shirt to the side, and then returned to doing what he was.
Steve's eyes just about popped out of his head when he saw the kid head mouth first towards Dally's cock. And did he just fit the whole thing in his mouth? He knew how his body was reacting to this scene, and he wondered if Two-Bit's was, too. A glance over at the burly greaser confirmed his suspicions.
"This is too fucking hot," Steve sighed, his cock jumped a bit when he noticed that Pony was grabbing at his own crotch with ferocity. In attempt to subtly relieve some of the tension pent up in crotch, he pressed his lower half against the house.
"Glory, Pony," the younger boy's tongue was swirling and tasting still. "Glory, Pony!" It didn't take long for Dally to reach his climax; Pony was very talented when it came to blow jobs, contrary to popular belief. When the younger boy sat up, there was a dark spot in his jeans where Dally concluded he'd cum on himself. They stared at each other for a long moment, before beginning to collect their thoughts.
"Not that I minded, kid," Dally began, "But what the hell was that for?"
Just as Pony was about to explain how sexy it was to see Dally so angry, something in the corner of his eye moved. He turned toward the window just in time to see their two spectators duck below the frame. The blood drained from his face, and he quickly tucked Dally's manhood back in his jeans before reaching for his shirt.
"Where are you—" Dally started, but Pony was already outside.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" Dally heard Pony shout, but who was he talking to? "How long have you been out here?"
"Better go see what's going on now," Dally mumbled. He staggered a bit walking to the door, but could you blame him? He usually has time to collect himself before moving after having sex. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw Pony towering over two members of their gang. "What's going on?"
When Pony turned, his face was practically glowing with fury. "They were watching us," he ground out.
Dally glanced down at the two boys who were cowering in fear, before looking back at his furious boyfriend. In all honesty, Dally found it a bit funny that those two had watched them have sex, but he wouldn't dare let Pony know that; obviously he'd found no humor in the situation at all. Just as he was getting ready to "handle the situation," Pony whipped back around and beat him to it.
Now this, this was impossible not to laugh at. How often do you see two 18-year-olds cowering in fear because of Ponyboy Curtis?
Not often enough.
I understand that this was random and all, but could you let me know if it was the good kind of random or not?