A/N: Hope this is to your satisfaction, sweety pie xD THE END OF THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M! MMMMMM so don't bitch at me if you get a surprise xD And this is my first guy on guy thing... so be nice xD
Three:
The Proposition
"Olsen, heads up!"
Kirby hadn't been paying much attention to the game going on around him, so he had no chance of stopping the huge leather football that was currently whistling through the air towards his face. He tried to shield his head, wrapping his arms around in a practically useless fleshy helmet. The football bounced hard off the only part of his exposed face and he hit the grass like a sack of crap.
He lay there, dazed and staring up at the bright blue sky above the football field. He heard the heavy footsteps of his team mates running over to check on him. The first one to reach him was Damon and he peered down at Kirby, his solid, dark head blotting out the bright sun.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Olsen?" he demanded in his deep voice. "You ain't got your mind in the game, have you?"
Kirby rubbed his head. He wished he had taken the time to suit up, but the guys had just wanted a quick three aside game so at the time he had seen no reason to. Now he regretted it as he could feel his cheek beginning to swell a little. "Sorry, man," he muttered, sitting up. "I've just had a lot on my mind."
Damon snorted through his flared nostrils. "Yeah well you better get your ass in gear for when we're playing for real. I'm not losing because you're thinking about what colour panties to wear to impress your boyfriend."
Kirby shot him a disgruntled stare. Damon hadn't said that as a dig at his relationship with Trent. None of the Jocks knew about that - it was just a general jibe that he would have used against anyone. "Shut up, man." Kirby muttered lamely, still dizzy.
Casey lumbered over, his cap pulled down over his floppy blonde hair as usual. He grinned lopsidedly at Kirby and held out a huge hand to him. "Sorry 'bout that, man," he laughed. "Didn't realise you weren't looking!"
Kirby took his hand reluctantly, knowing the huge Jock would probably manage to yank his arm out of his socket. "No worries." he replied. Casey did just as Kirby had expected and hauled him onto his feet. He practically left the ground for a moment. It did little to help his spinning head.
"Ah I know that look," Casey smirked, prodding Kirby hard in his shoulder. "You got girl troubles, ain't you?"
Kirby glanced around. Damon had picked up the ball and had run off to join the other guys. Dan tried to tackle him, but Damon placed one huge hand on the smaller Jock's face and shoved him down to the ground with ease. Kirby wasn't in the mood for a game anymore. The blow to his head had made him feel sick. He waved a dismissive hand to Casey and headed for the bleachers.
"Somethin' like that I guess." he replied. "I'm gonna sit out the rest of it."
Casey followed him, removing his cap briefly to run his fingers through his hair. "Hey, I'm the master when it comes to girls, Kirb. Why don't we see if I can't help you out a little, huh?"
Kirby rolled his eyes and flopped down on the bench. "It's nothing, Case. Just leave it."
Casey ignored him - he had never been one for taking a hint. He draped a heavy arm around Kirby's shoulders and pointed to the cheerleaders that were prancing around on the sidelines. Mandy, Christy, Pinky and Angie. Four pretty steaming girls, but Kirby didn't feel anything for any of them. Even when Christy attempted a star jump and flashed a pair of light pink panties it did nothing.
"Which one is it then, huh?" Casey grinned. "It's gotta be a cheerleader. The rest of them are frigging dogs."
Kirby looked down at his hands and wondered how Casey would react if he told him that it wasn't any of those girls who were the problem. That it wasn't even a girl that was the problem. He knew exactly how the bigger boy would react - he would snatch his hand away like it was contagious or something and probably run off and cower in the corner. If the truth came out then Kirby could kiss goodbye to his Jock status.
"I don't wanna talk about it, Case. It's nothing. It's nobody."
Casey shoved him and snorted. "Don't be such a pussy. What's the problem? She not putting out?"
Kirby clenched his jaw and turned his head away. He leaned forward, elbow on his knees, and glowered at the ground. Well that was the problem, wasn't it? Trent's stupid attitude to everything was the problem. "Something like that." he mumbled, disgruntled.
"Ah that's textbook." Casey chuckled. "I just need to ask one question; how long have you been trying?"
Kirby blinked. How long had he been trying to get in Trent's pants? That thought made him frown deeper, but it was true. The fact of the matter was that he did want to get into Trent's pants. He wanted that blonde bully badly, no matter how much of a bastard he was. "A while I guess."
"Well how long?" Casey demanded. "Hours, days, weeks? It makes a difference y'know."
Kirby did the math. "A few months."
"A few months?" Casey almost choked. "Jesus Christ man you must have some patience. Screw that. If the bitch hasn't put out after one month at the most, you dump her ass and find someone else. Jesus, Kirb, everyone knows that. What's wrong with you? You're like a frigging girl sometimes."
Kirby continued to glower at the floor silently. Find someone else? Someone who wasn't Trent? Easier said than done.
Casey stood up. "Well you just keep moping you little pussy," he chuckled. "Maybe you'll grow some balls."
He jogged off towards the others, getting the ball thrown to him as soon as he was in range. Kirby watched them all running around for a few moments, wondering why the hell he hung around with such brain-dead gorillas. Well at least this way he wouldn't get bullied. Jocks were above that. Although Trent was above that too.
With a heavy sigh Kirby pushed himself up and headed for the steps. He was too pent up. He needed to relive some tension, and he couldn't do it with these guys around. He scooped up a basketball and headed up towards the courts, deciding a bit of a vigorous workout was in order.
The guys could tell Kirby was trying to work something out of his system, so they left him to his angry one-man game of basketball when they trooped through the gym to shower. They nodded solemnly to him, their way of showing their support for whatever the hell was bugging him. It only annoyed Kirby further because he knew if they knew the truth then they certainly wouldn't be nodding at him.
He lost track of time. He ran the length of the gym, the basketball pounding noisily on the polished floor; echoing around the huge room. He let out a grunt as he jumped, throwing the ball towards the hoop. He got it in every time, but then again he had always been pretty good at basketball despite his size. His heart was thudding in his chest and sweat was pouring out of him, but he didn't want to stop.
Kirby swept his hand over his forehead, wiping away the slick sweat, grabbed the ball again. He moved to the far end of the gym again and pounded the ball off the floor. How he wished that the ball was Trent's head. That thought filled him with a brand new burst of adrenaline and he raced again for the hoop, grunting and puffing as he hopped, then leapt, and slammed the ball through the hoop. He dropped hard back onto his feet and leaned his hands on his knees, finding it hard to catch his breath. Sweat dripped off the end of his nose and tumbled to the ground. He panted, trying to regain himself. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back, making his jersey stick to his back uncomfortably. The sensation irritated him and he grabbed his jersey, quickly struggling out of it and tossing it to the ground.
Staring at the discarded jersey, he suddenly felt a wave of melancholy. Why the hell was he acting so crazy? Was it really because he was annoyed with Trent for treating him like an idiot, or was it because of the thing with Derby in the store? He knew the thing with Derby had shaken him, but it shouldn't have affected him this much. After all it was nearly every other day when someone tried to make a move on someone else in this place. Kirby would never forget the time Juri had made a move on him in the showers. Now that had been scary - that big bastard wrapping his hand around Kirby's small waist and trying to jack him off as the steaming water rained down on them. Kirby had freaked out, Juri had apologised, claiming he must have gotten the wrong end of the stick, and the whole thing had been forgotten about.
But Derby… there was something different about this. It was different because… well, as much as it made Kirby sick to think of it, he had a strong feeling that if Derby had stopped him from leaving Aquaberry last night it wouldn't have taken him long to come around to the Preppy's way of thinking.
Upon reflection, Derby's cool hands had felt nice. Better than nice…
"Your stamina is quite impressive, Olsen. You've been in here for nearly five hours you know."
Kirby whirled around, his damp hair slapping his forehead. He straightened up, eyes widening at the sight of Derby by the gym doors, leaning there with his arms folded over his flawless Aquaberry sweater. He was smirking, his icy eyes fixed on Kirby. He didn't move, nor did he say anything else. Kirby was fixed to the spot, staring back at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
Five hours? He thought, slightly panicked. That meant it had to be at least eleven, meaning curfew would be in effect. That meant the guys would be either at the field or at the carnival. They certainly wouldn't be in the gym. No one would come in the gym until morning.
Kirby cleared his throat and managed to get moving, ,despite the fact his legs had gone weak. "What the hell do you want?" he said, hoping to sound fierce but instead sounding strangely neutral.
Derby glanced briefly at his fingernails. "I heard your little gift didn't go down so well last night."
Kirby picked up his damp jersey and threw it over his shoulder. He turned on the Prep with a scowl. "Buzz off you goddamn weirdo," he snarled, now sounding the way he wanted. "I don't know what game you're trying to pull here but I'm not letting you screw me over, Harrington. You've got some kind of bet on with those other rich scumbags, ain't you? Well I'm not falling for any of your shitty games, so you better get the hell out of here before I kick your ass."
Derby cocked his head and smirked patronisingly. "Oh Kirby, that's quite rude. I'm here as a friend. I just want to help you." A gleam flashed in his eyes and he moved forward off the wall. "It pains me to see you upset like this."
Kirby frowned at Derby as he made a slow approach, his hands pushed into the pockets of his black slacks. He didn't want to show this bastard that he was scared of him. "Screw off, Derby. I'm not interested."
"I understand you know," Derby smirked. "Why you're angry. It's bad enough that you've got all these… mixed feelings inside without having someone like Trent Northwick playing with them. That's what this is all about, isn't it? The reason you're racing around in here like a ravenous dog? It's because you're not getting what you want. It's a horrible feeling when you don't get what you want, although I suppose I'm lucky as I don't have to worry about that very often."
Kirby watched him closely, standing his ground. Derby's expression was mischievous and mocking, but at the same time there was a hint of honesty there that confused Kirby to no end. What the hell was this guy's game? What did he want?
"Aren't you worried?" Derby asked, tilting his head and stopping in front of him. "About how it would be, I mean."
Kirby narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"When you finally get what you want," Derby smirked. "Having that disgusting pauper sweating over you. Hands running all over you, moaning in your ear…" He reached out and ran a finger down the front of Kirby's chest.
Kirby jumped and took a step back. He blinked and swallowed hard. "What are you getting at, Harrington?" he choked.
Derby chuckled softly and patronisingly. "You do know why Trent is holding you off, don't you? Because he's not sure if you mean it. You might just think you want that. Could be that you've gotten crossed wires somewhere; perhaps you've seen one too many dicks in the communal showers and you think that's what you actually want. The girls don't have any effect on you because you don't see enough of them. I want to help you find out what you really are, Kirby. Do you want me to help you?"
Kirby was practically grinding his teeth. "And how are you going to do that?"
Derby moved forward so he was nose-to-nose with the small Jock. This time Kirby didn't back away. A part of his brain was screaming at him to run before this got out of hand, but there was another, stronger part that was urging him to stay right where he was. Convincing him that this was important. Derby's hands; as ice cold as they had been last night in the store - ran lightly up the Kirby's sides, from the line of his shorts to just blow his armpits. The sensation made him shudder and gasp.
"I have my means." Derby said, grinning darkly.
Kirby's throat convulsed as he swallowed involuntarily. He blinked as he felt Derby's breath on his lips, then felt a heavy wave of disorientation as the Prep's lips brushed his own. They were soft, non-invasive, testing. Kirby's own lips parted, sucking in a sharp breath. Derby smirked, his hands slipping around Kirby's bare waist. He kissed him again a little more confidently, his perfect teeth nipping the Jock's wavering bottom lip.
"Wh- what…" Kirby started, but his voice failed there.
Derby pushed his lips against Kirby's with a force that surprised the Jock. His icy hands gripped tightly onto his waist and he was suddenly aware of being shoved quickly, his feet stumbling but somehow managing to keep him from tripping up. He slammed against the gym bars against the back wall hard, one of them digging painfully into his back. He released a brief cry, but it was muffled as Derby's tongue flickered into his mouth, running around the side of his cheek and tickling the roof of his mouth. Exploring eagerly.
What the hell was going on? Kirby was confused, really fucking confused. This couldn't be a joke. Derby Harrington wouldn't go this far. The only way Derby would actually do something like this was if he meant it. Kirby gasped as one of Derby's hands delved down the front of his shorts. He grasped Kirby's erection tightly, and much to the Jock's surprise he felt his own hands grasping tightly onto Derby's solid shoulders, his fingers digging into the expensive material. His own tongue began to wrestle with the foreign one in his mouth, his body beginning to shudder.
"Do you want an update, Olsen?" Derby whispered, his breath hot in Kirby's wanting mouth. His hand squeezed tighter and slowly began to move up and down. "I think you have a thing for blondes."
Kirby could feel his lower abdomen growing heavy. Jesus this was insane! He couldn't believe that this was happening, that Derby Harrington, the leader of the pompous, snide Preppy bastards currently had him pinned up against the gym beams and was jerking him off.
This had to be some kind of hallucination. That ball that had hit him in the head had done more damage than he had thought. There was no way that this…
"Aahh…" Kirby moaned, feeling a warm tug somewhere inside of him. This wasn't a dream.
Derby moved his face to Kirby's neck, his tongue running down his wet skin to his collar bone, then back up to his ear. He took the earlobe in his mouth, sucked it once and nipped it with his teeth. Kirby hissed, clinging tighter onto Derby's shoulders. He could feel the other boy's muscles working under his sweater as his arm pumped faster. Kirby's heart thumped in his chest as he could feel himself growing close to a climax.
Jesus don't, he begged himself. Not so soon, not this quickly…
He closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold it back, trying to think of something other than the warm tongue and soft lips that left cool trails on his skin, trying to prevent the inevitable… but Derby was going faster and he didn't think he could hold it much longer.
"Ah, Derby…" Kirby breathed, nails digging deeper into his shoulders. "I think I… I think I'm gonna…"
Derby's mouth smothered his words, his tongue once again venturing inside where it didn't belong. Kirby could taste his own salty sweat from his skin. Derby squeezed harder, hard enough to hurt, and he grunted himself with the force he used. Kirby moaned loudly against him, his left arm releasing the Prep and grabbing tightly onto one of the beams behind his head.
Everything around him melted away. It felt like there was nothing else in the world apart from both of their hot, shuddering bodies. Thoughts of Trent were nothing but a distant haze. The idea that someone could walk in and catch the two of them were ludicrous - Kirby wouldn't even care. The fact that this was Derby Harrington making him feel so damn good… well, it only heightened the experience.
Kirby broke away from Derby's lips with a gasp and a curse. He couldn't hold it any longer. His hands tightened on their holds, one hand squeezing the bar and the fingernails of his other hand digging hard into Derby's shoulder. Derby grunted, muttering something lightly before pressing his lips against the euphoric boy's neck and sucking hard. He would leave a mark, but Kirby didn't care.
He didn't care about anything.
His groans echoed around the gym as he finally lost his control. He came all over Derby's hand, his stomach feeling light and tingly. His legs quivered, as did the rest of him, and he slumped against the bars, eyes closing and head lolling. He panted heavily, body gradually slowing down and feeling returning to his numb, satisfied body.
"That…" he breathed, eyes tightly shut. "That was…"
Derby's hand withdrew sharply and he heard the squeak of his smart shoes on the polished floor. He cleared his throat - a formal, passive sound. Kirby managed to lean his head back against the bars and open his eyes. Derby stood facing to the side, hand out in front of him as he reached into his pocket with his other. Kirby's stomach fluttered at the sight of the white sticky mess on the Prep's hand. His exhilaration was suddenly engulfed by another, more unwelcomed feeling; shame.
Derby pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to clean up his hand. He didn't look at Kirby. In fact he wiped his hand like it was just wet from water, or perhaps a spilled drink. "Next time, Olsen," Derby said in a smooth, formal voice. "Be more careful with my sweater."
With that he tossed the ruined handkerchief at Kirby's quivering feet and headed away, the sound of his squeaking Aquaberry loafers echoing around the gym. Kirby watched him go, still panting lightly and gripping onto the bars behind him. Derby disappeared out of the gym without another word, the door closing loudly behind him.
The sound echoed around the gym, until silence prevailed again. Kirby's eyes went to the balled up handkerchief at his feet. The sticky substance glistened in the fluorescent lights, glazing to two fancy embroided letters on the corner; DH.
Kirby stared at it impassively for a moment, before feeling a lurch in his stomach. He clamped a hand over his mouth and raced for the bathroom.
