Part A: Greg
Walking into the pub behind Peter I almost run right up the ass of him as he comes to a dead stop in the doorway. "Dude, move it," I mutter as I give him a quick shove out of the way and step into the room. Too late I notice why he stopped. Fuck, the place is full of Frat boys on Pledge week. I'd completely forgotten that was this week.
Shit, now they're looking over at us, morons. Okay, two options here, leave and be laughed out of existence, and possibly chased and harassed in the street or stay. Oh well, 'at least they've got beer in here' I think as I walk over to the one empty table at the back of the room. Peter follows me in, but I know he's thinking I've officially lost my mind this time.
"Dude," Peter hisses as we sit down, "What the fuck do you think you're doing? We're gonna get creamed here. I mean, these are Frat boys, do ya think they're gonna leave us alone for one second?"
"Chill, man, look, just get out the board and I'll go up and get a couple of brews, okay? It'll be cool." I hear him grumbling something about this not being Australia and smile as I make my way up to the bar. We'd had an awesome time on our "study abroad" semester there, and it was true, no one really cared if you sat down to play a game of chess with your beer.
"Hey, check out the nerd squad," I hear as I reach the bar. Ignoring the comment and the laughter it provokes, I pay for the beers and start to walk back to our table, careful not to look anywhere other than where I'm headed. So, of course, I don't even see it coming. A jostle from the left and beer slops down the front of my shirt, soaking through to my skin underneath and a huge shout of laughter fills the bar. "Assholes," I mutter under my breath as I continue on my way.
"Greg, man, look, let's just get out of here okay?" Peter almost begs as I sit down, "We can go back to the dorm and play a game there. It'll be quiet, no dickwad Frat boys, and hey, Julie might even be there. C'mon."
"And no beer either, Pete. Look, we're here and no fucking idiot Frat boys are going to scare me off. Anyway, I know the real reason you wanna go back to the dorm is so's you can get in Julie's pants."
"Yeah, well, that doesn't invalidate my point about the Frat boys. I mean, dude, just look at them. Morons to a one," he says gesturing at the biggest group of them standing by the bar.
Turning in my seat I take a look at the group Peter's pointing at. Half of them are busy throwing peanut shells at each other while the other half are chanting "chug, chug, chug" at some sucker who looks like he's trying to down a gallon of beer in one go. Except for one. He's staring directly back at me, eyes dark and an inscrutable expression on his face. Now that is worrying.
His attention is distracted by one of the other doofuses who notices him staring over in our direction. The doofus says something, pointing our way, and dark-eyes laughs with him.
Suddenly I'm not so sure that the plan to brave it out is such a good one, there's just something about the way that guy's looking at us that's making me nervous. I'm beginning to understand how a gazelle feels when it realises it's surrounded by a pride of hungry lions.
"Greg, hey, earth to Greg." Peter's voice brings me back to reality and I turn back to look at him. "Dude, seriously, drink your beer and let's get outta here man. I don't like the vibe I'm getting." Somehow he's managed to pack the board away and skol his beer without me even noticing.
"Yeah, sure Pete, whatever." I say, still thinking about those dark eyes and wondering what exactly was going on behind them.
"Greg, come on man." He's standing up now and looking worried, "Shit. Greg, they're on their way over here man. Let's. Go." And with that he takes off towards the door
"Okay, okay, jeeze Pete, when did you turn into such a pussy?" I finish my beer and get up from the table to follow him only to feel hands on my shoulders push me back down again. Fuck. It's the doofus from the bar, the one who was talking to dark-eyes, who, I note, is nowhere to be seen. Great, just fucking great.
"Did I give you permission to leave geekboy?" the doofus asks and smiles at his brothers like he's the funniest thing on earth. "Cos I don't remember telling you that you could walk away."
Right, he thinks he's a comedian, excellent. He's also way drunker than I thought he was, as are the rest of his friends. This is starting to be officially the worst idea I ever had. I stand up again and smile at them, "No, you didn't, but I really don't need permission from a bunch of apes like you now, do I? I mean, telling people how to walk when you've clearly only just mastered it yourselves, tough job you've taken on there fellas."
"Think you're the smart one, huh?" says the doofus evoking a chorus of laughter from his friends
"Well, no, I know I'm the smart one, after all I'm not the one wearing boots cos I don't know how to tie shoe laces am I? And on that note gentlemen, I'll be off. Thanks for the entertainment, it's been a blast." I make my move away from the table to the door, hoping like hell that Peter's still waiting outside for me.
A hand on my arm stops me short and swings me 'round and I'm face to face with one very pissed looking doofus. "Running away to join your faggot boyfriend, huh? Gonna go cry to him about how mean the nasty big boys have been to ya? Well then, let's give ya something to fucking cry about."
'Fucking good one, Sanders, just can't keep your smartass mouth shut can you?' I think as I brace myself for the blow. Maybe the guy is just too drunk, but he pulls back for the longest wind-up ever. Fuck, I could have ducked that punch while writing the assignment I had due in Organic Chem. So I do, tucking and rolling between his legs, and coming up on my feet. I should have just run for it but I can't resist looking back to see one of his meathead buddies bent over holding his bloody nose. I snicker and turn to go but just as I move towards the door another of the fratbrats grabs me by the arms and pulls me back against him.
"Got him, Duane, go on give him another shot," he calls out, grinning.
"You little faggot, I'll show you," he snorts, eyes wide and bloodshot.
"Witty repartee," I murmur sarcastically.
I squirm and kick, trying to stamp down on my captor's instep exactly like Jackie Chan would, but he just laughs at my efforts. Duane, doofus #1, turns, his face red with rage and beer, and winds up for another punch. Just as I'm giving up all hope for a graduation photo, his fist stops in midair.
"Duane, Duane, what's the rush, man?"
It's dark-eyes, holding the doofus' arm back in a firm grip, not even straining with the effort. I roll my eyes in disgust, but also partly to hide the sudden tears. Is he going to join in too? He seems sober and therefore much scarier than any of these drunken bozos.
Duane turns angrily to shake his arm free from dark-eyes' grip. I feel my personal doofus' hold loosen as his attention turns to the other men and, wrenching free, I plunge for the door. I run out and down the alley at the side of the bar, and shit, fuck, it's a dead end. As I turn to run back past the dumpster I feel someone grab my wrist and drag me into the shadows behind it. I open my mouth to shout but it's dark-eyes.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" he hisses at me. "You shoot your mouth off like that too often you're gonna get your ass kicked."
"So, what else is new?" I smart mouth right back him, pissed that he would yell at me. For fucks' sake, what about those jerks and how they were acting?
"Look at you; you're as skinny as a twig. Those guys are on the football team, they'll throw you around like–"
"I can take care of myself," I just about shout.
"Yeah and you were doing a hell of a job of it in there," dark-eyes smirks at me. "Those kind of guys are always afraid guys like you are gonna come on to them."
"Or maybe they're afraid I won't!" I sneer.
"You are such an idiot!"
"Fuck you!"
Suddenly my back hits the brick wall hard enough to knock the breath out of me and his hands grip my upper arms tightly. His mouth is inches away from mine and I can feel his hot breath puff over my lips as he says, "It's a question of weight and leverage, you see? I outweigh you, so I get to control you."
I stare into his eyes, watching with surprise as irritation turns into lust and the aggression, well it just stays aggressive. He lowers himself against me as if doing a very slow push-up and I whimper as I feel his erection pressing against my thigh.
As my mouth opens to gasp for air, he thrusts his tongue inside, roughly invading, exploring, sliding his tongue over mine. He moans slightly and I lunge toward him, opening my mouth to him and grinding my hips against his.
As I arch off the wall, our denim-covered cocks come into contact, rubbing frantically together. He still has my upper arms in a strong grip, his fingers biting into my muscles hard enough to bruise, but I can still circle my forearms around his body. So I do, grabbing his ass with my hands, cupping and squeezing, pulling him as close as I could.
And damn, where did this come from? He was with those guys and now he practically attacks me in the alley? He wrenches his mouth off mine; moaning and panting, and I take the opportunity to latch onto his neck, sucking at the golden skin. He yelps as I bite down and I sooth the spot, licking it hotly, enjoying the salty sweet taste of him.
He releases my arms and I spin us around, pressing him against the wall, taking control and he surrenders to me with a whimper. Now it's my turn to kiss him, control him and I nip at his lower lip, demanding entry. He opens his mouth with a groan and his hands roam over my back, one slipping under my t-shirt, so hot against my skin, while the other slides inside my jeans and boxers, fingertips digging into my ass, hauling me closer.
I let go of his mouth and latch onto his neck, covering a throbbing pulse point, sucking and licking in a flurry of uncontrolled kisses.
The world spins around me as he rolls off the wall and turns us, pinning me against it again. I can feel the bite of the rough bricks through my t-shirt as I grab the back of his head, pulling him closer for another insanely hot kiss.
His hands are still cupping and squeezing my ass and he kicks my legs apart, thrusting upward against me. Our cocks are sliding against each other and I arch up against him as hard as I can.
I look at him; his eyes are half closed, his mouth, swollen and red from our kisses, open and gasping for air, his head back and his throat working. And then he's coming, pushing me harder against the wall as he rides out his climax, grinding savagely against my groin, staring into my eyes.
God, he's so beautiful! I forget all about my own aching cock until he opens those soft, dark eyes fully. He dives for my neck and licks my Adam's apple. Fuck! Then his hand is cupping the bulge in my jeans and I'm coming, helplessly hanging onto his shoulders as my knees sag with the overwhelming rush of my orgasm.
He leans against me, hot, sweaty, gasping for air. I don't know how his jeans feel, but mine are wet and sticky, my cock is too sensitive and each rub of my jeans against it is torture. But, God, I'd do it again in a heartbeat!
"Fuck!" he breathes against my ear, "Came in my pants like a fucking teenager."
"I am a teenager," I laugh. "I have an excuse."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen. You?"
"Fuck, I'm twenty-four," he pulls off me to stare again. "You're jail bait."
"Don't worry," I sigh, adjusting myself. "I won't turn you in. Especially if you do that again."
He smiles at that. "Such a smart, dirty little mouth," he murmurs and plants a soft kiss. He cocks his head, hearing a noise.
"Come on, we better get out of here," he holds his hand out. I grab it but balk as he pulls me deeper into the alley.
"That's a dead end, there's no way out."
Raised voices alert us that his doofus friends are yelling about faggots as they leave the bar.
"You wanna go back that way," he asks, with a curious little smile, "Or do you trust me?"
"I trust you, dark-eyes," I say and follow him deeper into the shadows.
He boosts me over the brick wall, his hands on my ass and I can barely concentrate as I drop to the other side. I hear him take a running leap and he hoists himself up and over.
"So, where should we go from here?" I ask.
Part Deux: Nicky
I was standing at the bar with my brothers, bored as hell, wondering again why I went Greek? Oh, yeah, I was a legacy. My father and older brother had belonged and, provided you weren't a complete dork, the fraternity pretty much had to accept you.
I guess after being the science-geek in high school it did give me a feeling of belonging and I liked the service aspect, but fuck, pledge week was torture. I hated the hazing, hated the pathetic looks in the eyes of the guys hoping to be chosen, hated the excessive drinking. Not that I couldn't drink to excess but I didn't; the risks were too great because my brothers might find out. But at least I had an excuse, being a grad student I had to study.
So I go along to the bar and stand listening with half an ear, which is all the conversation deserves, when Duane's attention is drawn by a geek in the doorway. He's pale and tall, skinny as hell with a prominent Adam's apple and red curly hair.
As I watch he's shoved to one side and the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen comes in behind him. They seem to be having a bit of an argument, but Red follows the beautiful boy over to a table and pulls out a chess board, setting it up.
Fuck! Does he have a death wish? He might as well have turned on a neon sign over his head, saying 'kick my ass'. The beautiful one comes to the bar and gets two beers and, as he turns to go back to his table, one of my 'brothers' bumps him, spilling the beer over his shirt. His lips move, but I can't hear what he says as, instead of confronting Clark, he just continues back to his table.
He looks over at my group; our eyes meet and I feel a jolt of energy. Damn! He is fucking hot; big, dark eyes with the thickest lashes I've ever seen, the sort of bedroom eyes that send tingles straight to my cock. His skin is pale and creamy; his dark hair is spiked and messy. I want to lick his lips, well, that would do to start with anyway. What I'd really like to do is make that creamy skin flush with desire and hear his voice broken with need and moaning my name.
His needle-neck companion draws his attention back, whispering urgently and shoving the chess board into his pocket. Beautiful boy nods, and Red takes off for the door, abandoning him. Too late I notice my companions moving to circle my beautiful boy and I sigh. No doubt I'm gonna have to do something about this.
First the big talk and the challenges. From the clever look on his face I can see that my beautiful boy is mouthing off. Why do the skinny ones always have such fucking smart mouths?
I laugh to myself as I see beautiful boy duck Duane's punch; I've told Duane often enough that even blind Freddie could duck that roundhouse. I'm startled as I see B.B. tuck and roll between Duane's legs and come up on his feet behind him. Nice move!
But he hesitates and Clark grabs him from behind, egging Duane on to hit him. Okay, that's my cue. B.B. isn't going to get away from Clark.
I grab Duane's arm before he connects and hope that B.B. can get away. Surprise works for us, he runs for the door and I see him turn down the alley at the side of the pub. Leaving Duane to yell at Clark for letting him go, I slip out the back door into the same alley and hide in the shadows next to the dumpster. He runs back past on his way out and I grab his wrist, dragging him back into the shadows with me.
Fuck, he's hot! He's all out of breath, his mouth hanging open and his eyes blazing with excitement. I can imagine he'd look just like that, moving under me, writhing as I –
"What the fuck were you thinking?" I hiss at him. "You shoot your mouth off like that too often you're gonna get your ass kicked."
"So, what else is new?" he smart mouths right back me. Jeeze, doesn't he have any sense of self-preservation?
"Look at you; you're as skinny as a twig. Those guys are on the football team, they'll throw you around like–"
"I can take care of myself," he virtually shouts, and he looks – hurt.
"Yeah and you were doing a hell of a job of it in there," I smirk. "Those kind of guys are always afraid guys like you are gonna come on to them."
"Or maybe they're afraid I won't!" he smirks and I just want to slap him – or kiss him. Actually, no, I'd much rather kiss that damn smart look off his face.
"You are such an idiot!"
"Fuck you!"
So I slam him against the brick wall hard enough to knock the breath out of him and hold him still by his upper arms. His mouth is enticingly close but I try to control myself, saying, "It's a question of weight and leverage, you see? I outweigh you, so I get to control you." I shiver with delight as I think about controlling him, getting him to do what I want.
I stare into his eyes, seeing the hunger there and lower myself against him slowly, pressing my erection against his thigh.
His mouth opens, gasping for air, the tip of his pink tongue visible and enticing. I have the strategic advantage and lower my mouth to his, thrusting my tongue inside roughly. He tastes of beer and mint and, sliding my tongue over his, I moan slightly at the sensation. I'm surprised as he responds instantly, lunging up against me as much as he can, opening his mouth to me.
I slam my crotch against him, lining up my cock with his. He's hard as a rock and I grab him tighter, holding him in place as I grind against him. Suddenly I feel his hands on my ass, pulling me closer, squeezing and rubbing.
I need air. Reluctantly I pull my mouth away from his and immediately he attacks my neck, biting, scraping wetly with his sharp teeth, then latching on and sucking. Damn! I yelp as he bites hard. That's gonna leave a mark!
The minute I let go of his arms, he spins us around, reversing our positions and now I'm pressed up against the wall under him. I don't let him know I could pin him again in an instant, instead I open my mouth to him, letting him take the lead, curious as to what he might do. I reach under his t-shirt. Fuck! His skin is so hot, so smooth, it feels as creamy soft as it looks and somehow I've got to get my hands on more of it. I work my other hand under his baggy jeans and inside his boxers, gasping with delight as I dig my fingers into his tight, rounded ass cheek hard enough to leave bruises.
He's biting and sucking at my neck again. I roll off the wall and pin him against it for a second time, leaning my weight against him to quell his struggles. I feel his hand on the back of my head, pulling me close for a kiss.
I've had these encounters in alleys before, hand jobs, blow jobs, but never any kissing. But I just can't resist the smart, gorgeous mouth on this beautiful boy and I dive in for more.
I spread his legs apart, feeling his hands drop to my ass, pulling me closer. I can't help myself and grind into him as hard as I can, sliding our erections together, feeling the heat of his dick through the denim between us.
I'm so close, I can't stop, even though I wish we were anywhere but this dirty alley, sticky with old beer under our feet. He's far too beautiful for this; I find myself picturing a soft bed and candlelight and wonder where this flight of fancy is coming from. And then I'm coming. I look at him, his lips all swollen and wet from our kisses, his head thrown back against the wall, the column of his throat exposed and vulnerable to me. I grind into him savagely as I come hard in my pants.
He's staring at me with those beautiful liquid eyes open wide in wonder. I have to lick his neck, to taste him, so I do, moving my hand to cover the bulge in his jeans. I press and squeeze gently and suddenly he's bucking under me, coming with a lot of little moans and whimpers. I feel his knees start to sag and press harder against him to hold him up.
I'm hot, sweaty, and gasping for air.
"Fuck!" I say into his ear, "Came in my pants like a fucking teenager."
"I am a teenager," he laughs. "I have an excuse."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen. You?"
"Fuck, I'm twenty-four," I pull off him to stare at him in dismay. He's underage. I can't do this. "You're jail bait."
"Don't worry," he sighs, adjusting himself. "I won't turn you in. Especially if you do that again." He smiles at me so uncertainly, so unlike the smart-ass I first thought he was.
I smile at him, I can't resist. "Such a smart, dirty little mouth." I lean in and plant a soft kiss, but stop as I hear a noise.
"Come on, we better get out of here," I hold out my hand and he puts his into mine. I feel a possessive thrill as I close my fingers over his slender hand and pull him toward the back of the alley.
"That's a dead end, there's no way out."
Duane is so fucking loud when he's drunk, yelling about hunting faggots. Remind me again why I went Greek?
"You wanna go back that way," I ask him, "Or do you trust me?" I really wonder if he does, considering I just jumped him and molested him in an alley.
"I trust you, dark-eyes." My heart soars as I hear that from him and my hand trembles a bit as I pull him further into the shadows.
I boost him over the brick wall, my hands all over his ass. I take a running leap and hoist myself up and over, dropping lightly to the other side where he stands waiting for me.
"So, where should we go from here?" he asks, smiling.
"So, where did we go from there?" Greg asked idly, running his fingers over Nick's chest, admiring the cut muscles.
"We went to the gym."
"The gym?" Greg rose up on an elbow, looking down at Nick. "Did we fuck in the gym?"
"Nope, I worked you out so you wouldn't keep getting your ass kicked," Nick snickered.
"You asshole," Greg said fondly, punching Nick in the arm.
"That the best you can do, geekboy?" Nick rolled Greg under him and pinned his hands on either side of his head.
"Try me," Greg retorted thrusting his hips up under Nick.
"Maybe later," Nick murmured, lowering his head to kiss Greg's lips. "I have a little homework for you to do right now."
"Mmmm, bring it on," Greg whispered.