A/N: My latest Arthur story, this one pairing Arthur x Buster. Always loved the friendship between them! They are human and in their sophomore year of high school here. I do not own the PBS Kids series or the characters. Enjoy and do leave feedback!

Sixteen-year-old Arthur Read didn't really have time to be as turned on as he was, but the persistent hot ache between his thighs was relentless and obviously ignoring it was doing the teen no favors. He shifted in his bedroom desk seat again, trying to relieve the pressure that had been building since he woke up late from an incredibly hot dream.

A should have been. A dream Arthur wished was a memory about the boy who was sleeping on his couch. A dream that would have had him fucking himself into gasping maddened bliss if it hadn't also had him sleeping through the three alarms he had set and stumbling out the door in yesterday's hoodie and jeans, no t-shirt and no time to spare.

Against all odds he made it to English class, but he hadn't actually heard a single word of the lesson. Sitting in the back of the room, a puppet to his own imagination, Arthur figured I may as well have been back at home, naked in my bed and touching myself while thinking of him.

Him. His best friend Buster Baxter.

Fuck.

He'd shown up at his last week. A handsome sixteen-year-old with thick wavy reddish-brown hair that made him stand out and sparkling green eyes sitting on Arthur's couch when he'd come home from this same class. His voice shot straight through the bookish boy, settling behind Arthur's back with deepening-warm fire as he'd sheepishly informed the glasses-wearing brunette that he was a guest in the house and he was supposed to tell Arthur about his plans to stay over. Buster hadn't told Arthur a damn thing, not even that they were out of Cheerios, before he ventured off on a ten day family trip and apparently left Arthur with their mutual friend Binky Barnes who looked like a Roman god.

Arthur couldn't decide if the flare of heat that ran through him was really desire, frustration or a confusing mix of both.

A week later, he eventually decided on the latter if the incredibly erotic waking dreams he had of Buster every night since that first interaction were any clue. Daydreams now too, it seemed, as Arthur sat in class with a growing awareness of the way his cock brushed the inside of his jeans, and how the front of his briefs offered just the right friction if he crossed his legs just so. Arthur had just relieved himself before First Period, but he learned since puberty it was never enough now. Not with Buster spending more time around. Arthur made it about halfway through class before he worried that the wet spot on his jeans would be visible to any passersby in class or the halls, and it wasn't like he was paying any attention anyway. Arthur raised his hand to excuse himself, stood up and booked it out of the classroom and to the nurse's office claiming he had a fever. Seeing he was feverish though not exactly from what, the nurse told him to go home for the day. Arthur wasted no time leaving campus and catching a taxi. His parents thankfully were working late and D.W. would be studying at her friend Emily's house after school.

When Arthur opened the door, he didn't see Buster. He breathed a sigh of relief at having the house to himself to try once and for all to rid himself of the ceaseless horniness that hadn't abated a bit since he arrived. Arthur kicked off his red sneakers and dropped his backpack by the door, rushing halfway up the stairs to his bedroom when he heard it.

The wet, slick sound of skin on skin and a low growl. It was nearly animal and chilling fear cooled the hot ache for a moment, worried there was someone or something inside his home.

But that thought vanished as quickly as it appeared when Arthur heard a very human, very familiar voice say his name on a groan. A husky, lust-soaked groan.

Oh.

Oh my God! Arthur leaned against the wall, the shock of what he'd stumbled on stealing his breath and balance and replacing them with a rush of heavy desire like a thundering wave straight to his core. Arthur waited there for a minute, considering his options.

He could turn around and leave. Give Buster his privacy. But Arthur didn't want to when he'd come home to do the very same thing and he was already so HOT, and his name sounded so good from his best friend's lips.

Or Arthur could stay. Watch him from the shadows and try to get away with touching himself while Buster did.

On the other hand Arthur could be brave- brave enough to walk into the room, to let his buddy see him and hope Buster would let him watch. Maybe Buster would let him cop a feel instead if Arthur did that.

Without consciously deciding what he was going to do, Arthur's feet moved soundlessly into the hallway, carrying him into the open doorway of his bedroom. Arthur froze there, his mouth falling open as he devoured in the sight of him. Buster laid in the center of the bed, black jeans and red briefs tugged down below his hips and a thick cock jutting out between splayed thighs. His chest was bare, shirtless, and the sweat on his skin shimmered with each of his heavy breaths. His grip was serious and confident, eyes closed and mouth open as small sounds of pleasure fell from him in a nearly continuous stream.

Arthur could barely process the sight in front of him, barely think beyond the hot bombs of desire that rushed over his tanned skin and hardened his cock. Desire that pooled between his legs until the teen was so wet Arthur could feel it on his thighs that now pressed together in response to the incredibly erotic sight before him.

A small sound escaped his mouth, a gasping moan so light Arthur wasn't sure he made it until Buster's blue eyes flew open, his fist freezing on his cock. His eyes, immersed with pleasure and panic, settled on his friend's face and grew wider, shock coloring his expression.

"Don't stop please," Arthur heard himself whisper as he took one step toward him, then another until Arthur was at the foot of the bed peering down at Buster, still frozen and staring up at his host. Arthur bit his lip and sat lightly on the edge of the bed; his eyes locked on Buster's until he broke away to look down at his pal's lanky body. At his cock clearly visible through Arthur's jeans, at the curve of his exposed stomach between the end of his yellow hoodie and the elastic of his briefs, at the curve of Arthur's ass where his legs folded under him. As Buster took Arthur in, his grip tightened, stroking slowly up his rigid length once and then again before he stilled and brought his eyes back to Arthur's entranced face.

"Take off your hoodie," he said gruffly, and when Arthur began to lift the fabric over his head without hesitation, the lingering panic in his friend's heavy lidded gaze gave way to a fresh torrent of lust. Arthur dropped the hoodie to the floor, bare now from the waist up, small brown nipples growing impossibly tighter in the chill of the room. Buster swore under his breath, biting back a groan as he stared at Arthur and stroked himself, the pace steady but picking up again to more closely match where he'd been when Arthur first saw him.

Arthur bit his lip in response, unable to look away from the amazing sight of him touching himself. The expert way his hand moved, twisting just so and gripping more or less as he went along was like a tonic to his friend's libido and Arthur's own hand dropped to the crotch of his leggings, ghosting over the damp fabric until he ground the heel of his palm against himself. Arthur's eyes fluttered closed for just a moment, reveling in the first contact and this swooping out-of-body turn of events.

Just a half hour ago, Arthur had been daydreaming about fucking himself while thinking of Buster. Now Arthur was sitting on his bed, watching his pal touch himself when he'd been thinking of his host. Arthur growled something impatient, and gripped his waistband as he stood, tugging off the jeans and pushing them to the ground.

Now, Arthur was naked before him as Buster worked his hard cock. He may be the reason Arthur was soaking to the middle of his thighs, but Arthur was the reason his cock leaked like a damn pipe and his eyes glazed with heady lust as his gaze roved over every inch of his friend's skin. Arthur felt high on the power of it as he took a couple steps around the side of the bed until he was just out of Buster's reach, and he had to turn his head to watch Arthur.

His strokes slowed, brow furrowing as Arthur repositioned himself until his hands drifted across his torso, pinching and rolling his nipples, squeezing them until Arthur had to bite his lip to quiet a cry. As one hand traveled down his stomach, toward his hip and lower still, Buster seemed to realize what Arthur planned to do and it was his turn to gape at his pal, mouth wide open as Arthur's fingers spread his ass lips and returned up to the leaking pole of his adolescent desire. Arthur held it up for Buster to see and he groaned, cock twitching in his hand as he watched Arthur's fingers stroke the length of his meat and swirl around his cock.

There wasn't much time for teasing. Arthur had been ready to cum for hours, and this game wasn't going to last long. Arthur hiked his foot up on the edge of the bed, opening himself for his appraisal as he pushed one finger, then two, inside his tight wet hole. Arthur curled them against the sensitive soaked walls and used his thumb to apply more pressure on his swollen hole. It felt so fucking good the teen wanted to close his eyes, get lost in the feeling of his hands caressing over his body, but those feelings were second to the desire to watch Buster so open they stayed, trained on the blur of his fist around his cock, and his other hand now groping and stretching his balls. Buster's hips bucked, his eyes glued to his friend's slender penis and the hand working there with as much fervor as Arthur watched him with.

Arthur pinched, rolled and squeezed his nipples, alternating between them with one hand as he worked his cock and fucked himself with the other. A master of his own body, his very pleasure ... and by the looks of it, maybe Buster's too.

"Fuck," the boy growled, gasping as he watched Arthur masturbate himself just inches away from his face. Arthur could cum just from the richness of his voice, the way eroticism and want dripped from the single word.

But now more than Arthur wanted to pursue his own pleasure, he wanted to see Buster lose control. So, Arthur impulsively withdrew his hand, bringing his fingers toward his mouth and licking them clean in a slow, loud suck as he pursed his wet lips around them. Buster's cock jerked again in his fist, now moving so rapidly Arthur worried vaguely about rugburn.

Buster came, violently shooting jet after jet of hot milky liquid in arcs across his chest and stomach, as Arthur's hand found its way back to his cock and he stroked it a few furious times, following him to orgasm. Arthur arched his back, hips bucking into his hand and willed his eyes to remain open, to watch his friend, even as they closed and Arthur's mouth fell open in an enjoyable groan of pleasure.

When they recovered from their orgasms, still inches of space between their exposed teenage bodies and the evidence of what they'd just done splattered across Buster's stomach, the silence was nearly deafening. Arthur said nothing as he collected his clothes and walked toward the door of his room.

But just before Arthur crossed the threshold, he heard Buster clear his throat. Arthur stopped, glancing over his left shoulder to see his buddy staring at him with frivolous amusement and curiosity.

He smiled at Arthur, the lazy sated smile of a 16-year-old who had just cum, before he spoke.

"So, you think maybe next time, I could just fuck you instead of watching you do it yourself? "

Arthur shot him a delighted grin, "Think you'll be ready for next time soon?"