"I despise rainy days."

A's voice held a sarcastic dismay, and he seemed to take his boredom out on the pitiful glob of Silly Putty pressed between his fingers. He tossed it, caught it, and threw it again, an idle exercise for his hands. After a few minutes of silence, he prompted B for a reply.

"Hey, B. Are you as bored as I am?"

B's uninterested response came from the bottom bunk of their bed. "Not really. I'm reading a good book. I actually don't mind rainy days."

A sighed, losing his concentration and flinging the Silly Putty far higher than he intended. The wad soared above his bed, and stuck itself to the ceiling, a neon green dot sticking out from the off-white paint. A smirked. Perfect.

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. My putty is stuck on the ceiling. Help me."

A soft sigh floated up from B's bunk. "You can reach it."

"But, I can't," he whined. "It's on the ceiling, B. The ceiling!"

"You are taller than me. If you can't reach it, how could I?" was the slightly peeved response.

"Oh, come on. Don't pretend you're immersed in that book of yours. What are you reading, anyway?"

"War and Peace."

A scoffed. "And you say you're too busy for me."

"Alright, alright, you win. I'll help." The sound of B's (evidently massive?) book slamming shut could be heard, and he soon began to climb the stepladder between the two bunks. The younger teen's head popped up next to A's bed, and he staggered onto the mattress. His gaze lifted to the ceiling, eyes fixing on the green mass that was somehow defying gravity. Shakily, B stood, toes gripping the squishy mattress pads, and reached up towards the putty. The tips of his fingers managed to brush the edge of the wad, and he swatted it down towards the ground. Though the putty landed safely on the foot of A's bed, the sudden move knocked B off-balance, sending him toppling over backwards – directly onto A.

B let out a quiet gasp as he tackled his friend, scrambling madly to his hands and knees. A only flinched at the sudden contact, but was soon chuckling good-naturedly.

He held out his hand for the putty, smiling casually at B. "Charlie thanks you for rescuing him."

"Ah… Sorry for crushing you." B retrieved the neon glob from the edge of the top bunk bed, and passed it to A, the older teen's infectious grin slowly creeping onto the younger's features.

"It's fine. You're a klutz, but… You can manage." A began to knead the putty again, mashing it through his fingers. "Speaking of klutzes… You wanna play Twister, B? That'd be fun."

"Twister…?" B cracked his neck to the left, watching Charlie the Putty's torture blankly. "I've never heard of it."

"You've never heard of Twister?" A asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then, we have to play." He squirmed, crawled over to the edge of his bed, and started down the ladder. Cautiously, B followed – his book had gotten rather boring, despite his earlier comments – and descended to the floor.

A sank to his hands and knees, and began rummaging through the mysterious nook beneath B's bed bunk. After a few moments of feeling around, he pulled a white, square box from the darkness. A large logo was printed across it, reading Twister in obnoxious red lettering.

B groaned. It was a board game. A board game. The things of decrepit day-cares, not high-class orphanages (unless they were, as B was beginning to suspect, the same thing). Board games were the lowest of the low on the hierarchy of rainy-day time-killers.

Still, A's incessant grin had yet to lead B wrong, and he seemed elated to see the game come out. The older teen opened the box, and removed a folded up mat from it. He spread the polka-dotted tarp out on the carpeted floor, smoothing the wrinkles, and pried a spinner from the bottom of the game box. B noticed that those two items were the entire game; perhaps he'd been too quick to judge.

"Okay, see the giant polka-dots on the mat? They correspond with this spinner-thingy." A held up the square of cardboard, flicking the arrow and spinning the spinner. "Basically, you just do what the arrow tells you to. It's pretty simple."

B followed the arrow with his eyes, before casting an uneasy glance at A. "So, the object of the game is to… follow the directions?"

"For as long as you can," A chucked, setting the spinner on the carpeted floor. "It's a deceptively hard game… But fun, nonetheless."

"Alright… But if this is painful or degrading, I'm going to hold it against you." B reluctantly shut his book, and crawled to the floor, placing his feet delicately onto the mat. He was careful to align himself precisely with the row of red dots.

"Oh, you better believe it will be. But that's the point. …I'll go first." A snickered, clearly enthused at the idea of B embarrassing himself. He picked two dots at random, positioned himself on the mat, and spun the spinner, his expression taking on a somewhat mischievous note. "Alright… Right-hand-red. Easy-peasy."

B edged forward, and spun. "So… That would be, right-foot-green, correct?"

A nodded, and B slid his foot obediently across the mat. This 'Twister' was a strange game.

"Alright… Left-foot-yellow." A frowned at the spinner, before adjusting himself. "Oh, come on. I can't do the splits…"

"Then, how will you win?" B flicked the spinner. "Right-hand-blue. Simple."

"It's just beginner's luck," A scoffed, before reaching for the spinner. "Ughh… Are you freaking cereal? Right-hand-yellow…"

"No," B hissed, batting at the arrow. "Just karma."

"Oh, be nice." A spun, his balance wavering. "I'll still win. I'm flexible. Right-foot-red…"

"Is that so? You seem rather shaky." B couldn't help but smile, as he pawed at the spinner. "Left-foot-blue…"

"Of course! I'm like… Silly Putty!" A edged his left hand onto a nearby yellow dot. "And you, B, are like…" He paused, as he realized how little personal space his roommate had.

"Do not compare me to Silly Putty, A. Don't make this more humiliating than it needs to be. …Left-foot-green." B was focused intently on the game, his competitive spirit overpowering all need to protect his personal bubble.

A's smirk widened subtly at B's enthusiasm. "Fine. You're like… Play-Doh! I like Play-Doh almost as much as I like Silly Putty." The older teen barely managed to reach the spinner, his awkward position on the Twister mat difficult to maintain.

"T-Thank you, I suppose…" B began to tremble, his physical strength quickly failing him. "Left-hand-yellow…"

"Don't… mention it, buddy." A's voice was strained, and he struggled to support himself. He was sprawled over the mat, B splayed out under him, and had to not only keep himself from falling, but also from crushing B into the floor. The brunette boy lurched forward and smacked the spinner, letting out a triumphant sigh as his fingers touched the plastic. "Haha! Right-f—"

A's muscles suddenly gave, and he collapsed on top of B, mashing the younger boy's chest into the Twister mat. Unthinkingly, A immediately sat up, straddling B's hips and pinning him against the floor. A massive grin overtook the older boy's features, and he laughed softly to himself, amused by B's clear disgruntlement.

The feeling of A's weight above him began to send B into a miniature panic attack. A had not yet remembered his friend's deep-seated phobia of physical contact, but B remained confident that he would, and held his tongue, waiting for the memory to return. It didn't.

A propped himself up with his elbows, digging them into the small of B's back (which didn't hurt, he found, even though it should have). B lay flat on his stomach, the carpet beginning to imprint itself on his shirt. A smirked down at him.

"I think I won this little bout of Twister."

B's voice was shaky with anxiety. "I-Indeed."

As if simply to spite B's no-touching rule, A took a lock of the younger boy's hair and frayed it between his right thumb and index finger. Though B cringed, he found the sensation bearable… even pleasant. But his nervousness had barely begun to fade.

"I never lose Twister – even if I fall down first." A paused, glancing down at his friend. "You okay? You look a bit tense."

"Nuh.." B started as A took another handful of his hair. "No, I'm okay… Just a sore loser." The younger teen laughed weakly.

The playful smirk on A's lips faded into a soft smile, something B could barely see from the angle he was at. "So I've noticed." He adjusted himself and sat up, essentially straddling B. "Hey, dude, how old are you, again?"

"Fourteen and a half," was the meek reply.

"Huh. So you're not too young. That's neat…" A paused for a while, his breaths oddly irregular. "Hey, B, ever been kissed before?"

The question came out of the blue – but it almost seemed rehearsed to look spontaneous. B jolted, struggling under A's weight, unable to sit up but managing a whole-body flinch. "What? Why? And, ah… No. No, I haven't. …Too young for what, A?"

"Well, I mean, I was just wondering… You're two years younger than I am. I just didn't want to think I was going to kiss a twelve-year-old or anything…"

It was then that B realized he had been missing something brutally obvious. Something so ridiculously explicit that A had been forced to spell it out for him. But, even as the words tumbled awkwardly from the sixteen-year-old's mouth, and he slowly began to register what he had just blurted out, B's mind simply refused to believe it.

He tilted his head back, rolling his eyes up to catch a glimpse of A's expression. "What are you… What?"

"Er…" A reddish tint began to creep up A's cheeks. "Um… What? What about what? Question mark?" He laughed, the sound dripping with apprehension.

"Come on. Tell me." B's eyes glinted, his gaze as sharp as his tone.

"Tell you what?"

"A. Tell me. If you're willing to hide something from me, it has to be important."

He grinned weakly. "Fine, fine. I give up. But I can't tell you."

B narrowed his eyes, craning his neck even farther back to get a better look at his friend. He frowned quizzically. "You give up, but you won't tell me? Why?"

"Because, well… It'd be easier just to show you."

A drew in a quick breath, let his eyelids droop, and, with no less fluidity of motion than was typical for him, leaned in and kissed B. It was so sudden, so impromptu. B's head was practically inverted; he had been trying to make eye contact with the person directly above him.

And, there it was. Halfway inverted, on top of a Twister mat. Beyond Birthday's first kiss.

After the initial shock wore off, A deftly slid his tongue into the younger teen's mouth (which had been left open in a sort of gasp). B resisted instinctively, nearly breaking the kiss, his paranoia almost getting the best of him. But, after a moment or two, the sensation turned from horrifying to off-putting to enthralling, and B made a feeble, though honest attempt at reciprocating. He sank his clawed fingers into the Twister mat, the kiss heating up. An eternal four seconds passed before A broke away, needing a breath.

"So… yeah. There you go."

B managed to wedge himself out from under A, only to roll onto his back and slide back under his friend. He was now facing A, who was still straddling him. The fourteen-year-old could only bring himself to utter one word, his voice thick with an indistinct emotion. "Why?"

A shrugged, the embarrassed grin still lingering on his face. He ran a hand through his chestnut hair. "I dunno. I guess you could blame hormones, but… Well, I just wanted to."

B's heart pounded in his chest, the sound of his pulse seemingly loud enough to echo. His eyes widened with anticipation, and his hands shook. Barely able to think, he slid his hands up A's chest and to his shirt collar, fingers wrapping around the neckline and gripping it fiercely.

"I meant… Why did you stop?"

Trembling with anxiety, B pulled his friend into a kiss, crashing his lips into A's. He flinched for a moment, taken off-guard, before kissing back, fiercely, passionately. B felt his eyes sink closed, nervousness fading to arousal. A's arms slid around his waist, and B inched closer to him.

A broke the kiss, pulling back an inch or two and breathing heavily. He smirked, his eyes half-lidded. "I dunno. I needed to see if you liked it."

B could only nod dumbly in response, his mind dulled by ecstasy. There was a brief pause, before A returned to the kiss, using his tongue a bit more heatedly. B interlaced his fingers around A's neck, pulling him an inch or two closer, and moaned quietly into the older teen's mouth. He felt A smile slightly, and shivered, before pulling away, shocked by his own panicked gasps for breath.

This is too far, he couldn't help but think. I should stop. We need to stop. Something's not right. I can't do this. It's too much, too quickly.

I want to stop but I can't.

B managed to whisper between pants. "Does this… feel wrong… to you…?"

A shook his head subtly, placing a couple kisses on B's jawline. "No, of course not," he murmured in his calming, sweetly adolescent voice. "Why? Does it feel wrong to you?"

"I…" B's breathing hitched at A's lips on his jaw, and his voice wavered. "I… I don't know… I don't think so…" He trembled fiercely, visibly shaking with an unclear mixture of apprehension and lust.

A smiled reassuringly, lessening B's shaking. "Then everything…" He paused, his grin turning from sincere to almost hungry. "…should go smoothly."

The older teen made a trail of light kisses down B's neck, ending near the neckline of his tee shirt. B sighed erotically, shuddering with pleasure at his touch. Gently (and with a noticeable amount of hesitation, B noted subconsciously), A took the bottom few inches of B's shirt in his hands, and lifted it up slightly, glancing up at B for confirmation. "Hey, buddy…?"

No. Say no. Tell him he's gone too far. That you can't do this at fourteen.

He nodded, slipping one arm out of his shirt. Silent except for his irregular breathing, A bunched B's shirt up, and lifted it over his head, watching as B removed his remaining arm. After setting his shirt aside, B's eyes met A's, clouded with confusion and shameful desire.

The younger teen sat up fully, and hugged A close to his chest, kissing the hollow of his neck. His body quaked, his skin cold and clammy. He was terrified, but never before had he experienced so many emotions at once. He didn't know how much more of this he could take, but… he didn't want it to stop.

Inversely, A was relieved at B's meek participation. The last thing he wanted was sexual tension with a roommate, and he wasn't at all sure that B would respond. He let out a brief hum as B kissed him, satisfied that things were working out, and snogged him, working his tongue slowly into B's mouth.

B groaned softly as the familiar wave of pleasure crashed over him, loving A's taste (something like pure cane sugar, he later realized). He kissed him back, lustfully, praying that he didn't come off as a novice. His shaking hands became just a bit steadier, and B felt secure, comforted by the reassuring stability of A's chest. He clung even closer to A, the older boy's touch intoxicating.

This… This is where I should draw the line. I let him take off my shirt, but that's all. It's not too late if I stop myself now.

His train of thought stopped abruptly as A began to grind his hips into B's, moaning into the kiss. B gasped at the sudden friction, his heart skipping a beat.

"Ah-AH!"

A held B more tightly as he tensed, in an attempt to calm him, but B broke away from their kiss. He opened his mouth to speak, but was so utterly winded that he physically couldn't. Chest still pressed against A, he panted heavily.

"Ah… A, I don't… I… can't…"

A blinked, his half-closed eyes a gorgeous, glossy jade in the faded light. He raised an eyebrow weakly. "Hnn… what is it, B?"

"I don't know…" If I should do this. If this should feel so wrong, yet so painfully right. What my feelings for you are. Why you're here with me now, up against me, your lips on my skin. What will happen if I don't stop you. If I ever will.

He buried his face into A's neck, beating back tears. He managed to steady his voice for a moment, just barely long enough to mumble, "Please… don't leave me… don't stop."

A ruffled B's hair with his chin, trailing his fingers gingerly down the younger teen's back. "If you say so." He cupped B's face, and titled it up, to be at eye level with him again, before kissing him softly. B felt A's hips grind roughly against his pelvis, the denim of their jeans providing delicious heat and friction. His embrace tightened against A's shirt, and he felt his eyes begin to roll back. He managed to bite back a cry of agonizing pleasure, but a brief sigh escaped his lips.

A paused for a moment, reluctantly pulling away from what had been a satisfying kiss. His demure, delicate features twisted briefly into a worried frown. "Hey, are you sure you're okay with this? You're not looking too hot. Well, I mean, no, you look great—but, I mean… you're… Are you feeling okay?"

Logic has no presence here. I'll figure things out tomorrow.

Or so would have been B's thoughts, if his mind hadn't gone numb from a newfound sexual desire.

"Yes… I want this," he managed, beginning to undo the top buttons of A's shirt. His better judgment was screaming at him to stop, but he didn't, couldn't. Releasing B, A reached down to help, unbuttoning the bottom half of his shirt.

As he caught his first true glimpse of A's body, B couldn't help but stare. A was lightly muscled, thin and lanky, as B had predicted. But the faint outline of his pectorals and abs were visible, and he had a sleek, beautiful build.

B was jerked from his thoughts as A slid his hips against his own, the flaps of fabric from the brunette's open shirt draping over him like a blanket. He bit his lip, trying desperately to hold himself back, but quickly gave in to A, and let loose a fairly loud moan. It tapered off into a sort of gag – the kind of noise a person usually makes when the wind is knocked from them – and A smirked triumphantly, more than a little proud of how well things were going with B. The older teen released the younger, slinking his hands around B's middle. His fingers began to unbutton B's jeans, and his eyes glinted in the dim light.

B barely noticed; he was preoccupied with regaining his breath. His pale, narrow chest heaved with panicked, enthralled pants, and the room began to spin around him. A unzipped B's jeans.

He's going to go all the way with me.

He grasped the younger teen's pants by the waistband

Am I going to let him?

and slid them down his hips,

Do I even have a choice?

goosebumps rising on his skin,

No! No, I'm too young!

shivers rippling down his spine.

But I don't want him to stop.

A fingered the edges of B's boxers

Oh God wait wait wait I'm still not sure

and tugged down on them sharply.

Oh God oh God no too soon I can't

"A… wait," B whispered weakly.

"Shhhh." A slid down B's boxers to his thighs, and B shuddered.

"Wait, wait, please, listen…"

The older teen leaned in, hissing seductively. "Oh, come on, don't tell me you can't handle it now."

B could feel himself growing lightheaded, and found that he was hyperventilating. "A, no, wait, stop…"

A's tone sharpened slightly. "C'mon, you'll be fine. I'll go easy on you."

"A, no, please, God, no, no, no! Stop it!"

A flinched, and drew back, eyes flicking up to meet B's worried stare. His hands went limp, and his shoulders sagged. "B…"

"A…" Unable to look at A, B focused on the carpet. "I'm sorry."

"No… No, don't be. It was my fault. I mean, you're fourteen." He paused, shaking his head to himself. "God… I'm such a dick. I'm sorry, B." Solemnly, he began to button up his shirt. "I'll leave you alone from now on, I promise."

"No…! Don't." Tears threatened to roll down B's cheeks, and he brushed them away with the back of his hand. He scooted closer to A, and hugged him close, burying himself into A's chest. "Can we just… stay like this… for a while?"

A ruffled his friend's hair gently, pressing B into his shoulder. He spoke softly, lovingly. "Sure, B. Anything for you."

B melted into his embrace, sobbing quietly. A slipped an arm around B's shoulders, holding him tightly. They stayed like that for hours, a tangled mess of mixed emotions, but perfectly secure in each other's arms.

That was the first time B really accepted that he was in love with A.


((A/N: Oh, lord, forgive me for that filler about Twister. I am a lazy, lazy person. Anyway, please, people, have a heart. Review. And when I say review, I mean actually review. Fawning praise is nice, but if you don't tell me when I fuck up, quite frankly, I won't know when I've done a great job and when I've really phoned it in.

As for the illustration of A, that's my avvie now, so you can see a little 150x150 pic of him in my profile. 3

Thanks to xtifaxfinalxheaven for all the help she gave me with that scene. ily.))