Summer Nights at Band Camp

by Hgmuffin-stuff

They were rivals. They were companions. They were everything but in love. One summer night at band camp would change that, though. Or so they hoped.

7. Vivacissimamente

Summer Nights at Band Camp

by Hg Muffin-Stuff

Summary: They were rivals. They were companions. They were everything but in love. One summer night at band camp would change that, though. Or so they hoped.

Chapter 7: Vivacissimamente

As they wrapped up their Wednesday morning practice session, Squilliam volunteered to collect those instruments that were on loan from the school. Squidward stayed behind to watch him as the others went back to their cabins.

"So," Squidward said, "this is what you do when a teacher won't let you literally kiss their ass."

"Like you've never kissed ass before."

"Not literally. Et tu, Squillie?"

"You've kissed so much ass metaphorically that it more than makes up for the ass I've kissed literally."

Squidward reclined against a coral tree and said, "I can give you that. Provided you agree to one thing," he said, grinning eagerly as he approached Squilliam.

"What's that?" he asked earnestly.

"Eat my ass out." He broke his serious expression to burst into laughter, his cackling uninterrupted as he wiped a tear from his eye.

"Very funny, Squiddy." Squidward followed him as he finished stowing the woodwinds in the instrument locker, always keeping within three feet of him like a curious child at a supermarket. "You know," Squilliam said, turning back abruptly to face him, "the clarinet is extremely sexy." He opened his clarinet case, revealing his personal instrument.

A slight smile crept on Squidward's face. "You have an amazing clarinet."

"I never realized how sexy clarinets were until I saw one in your mouth, dear."

"R-really?"

"Oh, yes," he said, tickling Squidward's shoulders with his suction cups. "From the day I first saw you playing him -"

"Her."

"Her?" He raised his unibrow. Squidward nodded. "Hm. Well, whatever. It seems strange to me, but if you want to refer to your phallic instrument by female pronouns, that's fine by me. Anyway, when I first saw you playing her, I saw clarinets completely differently. They weren't just wooden tubes with keys and holes, a means to make art - I saw that they are art. Orgasmic art."

His lips trembled. "Why are you s-saying all this?"

"Oh. Um...you know, I forgot." As Squidward began to walk away, Squilliam said, "You're like a clarinet."

"Huh?"

"You're much better off as a work of art than as something that makes art. Like a clarinet. And, like a clarinet, you're simply orgasmic."

"You lying son of a motherfucking cocksucker!" Veins bulged across his neck and head. "You traitor! Clarinets produce some of the most exquisite music in existence, that by far transcends their aesthetic beauty and how dare you question the overwhelming awesomeness of the clarinet you cocksucking whore?"

"Squiddy, I love the clarinet more than any other instrument. But I'm sorry, concertos don't give me boners."

"Well, that's you."

"You know what does give me a boner?"

"My ass."

"Aww, are you psychic or somethin'? No fair." He gently massaged Squidward's shoulders, rubbing his nose against the back of his neck. "You make me so hot. I'm going to finger you like my clarinet and tongue you like my reed until you make music more beautiful than any clarinet has ever made." He slid his tentacles down to press against his chest, his right arm slipping down to squeeze his hip. He licked the back of his jaw. "Have you ever fucked a clarinet?" he asked breathily, taking his clarinet and holding it against Squidward's back.

"Squillie, I don't, no -"

"Well then, you can tell everyone that this one time at band camp," he said, giggling as he pushed the two of them to the ground, "you had a clarinet stuck up your ass." Squilliam swiftly thrust the bell of his clarinet up against his lower back, swiveling it against the base of his spine.

"No - pl-plea-n" His heart skipped a beat, resuming on a progressively rapid and irregular schedule as his muscles tensed to an incomprehensible rigidity. He screamed, swiping his tentacles in all directions, striking Squilliam's face and forearm, knocking his clarinet out of his grasp and into the sand. He screamed again.

Squilliam stared, his lips trembling, his bluish hue fading. "Oh shit, I - Squiddy, I was just joking, I swear I didn't mean anything by it - you know I'd never..."

Mr. Shores came running. "What happened?"

Squilliam instead kneeled down to where Squidward lay crouched, trembling. "Squiddy, I'm sorry. It was just a joke, please, say something to -" he touched his hand, getting promptly smacked in the nose. "What the hell...? I'm bleeding."

"Fancyson, get away from him."

"But -"

"Now."

"Yes, Mr. Shores." He rose, picking up his clarinet and brushing some of the sand out of the tone holes, giving the mouthpiece a dignified kiss of satisfaction before looking back to Squidward.

"Squidward," said Mr. Shores, squatting beside him, "it's okay. You're safe. You're at band camp. No one's hurting you. I won't let anyone hurt you. Everything is okay."

Squilliam scraped his foot listlessly in swirls along the sand. Had he done all that to Squidward? Oh fuck, he was crying now. And he couldn't touch him, just watch, nervously biting the tip of his tentacle. Some blood dripped onto his sleeve, flowing uninhibited along the curve of his nose. He paused a moment before fumbling for his handkerchief and dabbing it at his nostril.

"Go back to your cabin, Mr. Fancyson."

"But -"

"Squidward wants you to go," he said, handing Squidward a tissue. "I'll finish putting the instruments away."

"Oh - okay, I'll...go."

Squilliam lay on his cot, nibbling at some gourmet trail mix from a silver container, his bloodied handkerchief lying folded next to his pillow. He shifted himself to lie down on his other side, moving his silk pillows to accompany the shoulder he had compressed into the bed.

"Mail call, Squilliam," said Harry as he handed him his mail.

"Oh, thanks - hey, how'd you get your fins on my mail, anyway?"

"Guess they just trust me."

"That is a hot one." He dropped his letters to the ground.

"Aren't you going to read those?"

"Maybe."

"Your parents still have spiny urchins stuck up their asses about you trying to date Squidward?"

"No - I mean yeah, but - no...fuck, I'm such a - Squidward...no, not me."

"If you're going to say something, say it, don't do a stuttering jig to say something without actually saying it."

"He's the only one who really loves me. But he doesn't deserve a fuck-up like me."

"Fuck-up? Do you even listen to yourself talk?"

"I meant emotional fuck-up. Obviously I'm great at everything else."

Harry shrugged. "Everyone's an emotional fuck-up, Squillie."

"Hey! Only Squiddy gets to call me that."

"I guess you have more important things on your mind."

The stoutly creaking of the cabin door opening drew their attention to the front of the cabin as Squidward walked in, awash in a bare confidence.

"Here's your mail," said Harry, handing him a letter, which he took in hand as he walked, never stalling in his stride.

"Thanks," Squidward said, speaking quietly. If he spoke any louder, he feared his voice would give away the volatility of his thoughts. He sat on his bed.

Squilliam turned to him, leaning forward in shrill desperation. "Squidward, I -"

"I know you would never hurt me. I never thought you were going to hurt me."

"I was just fooling around. I didn't want to hurt you; that's the last thing I want, you know that."

"I could've gotten you in trouble for sexual harassment, you know."

"But you didn't. Why is that, Squiddy?"

Squidward turned away from him, silent.

Harry put down his letter. "Sexual harassment? Holy hell, what did you do to him?"

"Is that any of your business?" Squilliam snapped, before adopting an apologetic tone as he touched Squidward's cheek. "Aw, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. You know I was just kidding, right? No hard feelings." Squilliam backed up a bit and snorted. "Heh, get it? Hard?"

Squidward said dryly, "Hilarious," and opened his letter, reading it against his pillow as Squilliam crept up from behind to read surreptitiously.

'Dearest Squiddums,

'How is band camp so far? Are you having a good time playing your clarinet? Have you made any new friends? I'm tidying up the house, so you can decide how we'll re-decorate it when you get back as long as it isn't too expensive. Your father is doing well, though his boss is getting on his case more now that the financial quarter is coming to a close, and he's a little stressed and at the office even more than usual.'

Squilliam snatched the letter out of his hand and continued to read aloud: "'So, have you made any progress with that sexy young clarinetist you're so madly in love with? What was his name again?'" He fended off Squidward by engaging in a game of defensive tentacle patty cake. "'Scotty? Danny? Don't be too disappointed if he doesn't love you back, Squiddums; your mama had her share of heartbreaks before finally meeting and marrying your father. Just show him the wonderful guy you are, and I'm sure he'll just love you. If he doesn't, don't get too down on yourself over it - we both know he's the one missing out.'"

Squidward grabbed the letter back from him. "Give me that!"

He smiled. "But of course, Squiddums. Ooh, that rolls off the tongue. I think I'm going to start calling you that."

"Please don't."

"Squiddums, huh?" Harry said with a chortle. Squidward shot him a look of murder.

Sighing, Squilliam said, "You never let me have any fun." He sat in his bed eating trail mix for another minute as Squidward read over the letter. "So what are you going to tell her?"

"About what?"

"You know - that sexy clarinetist you're pursuing." He wiggled his unibrow while twiddling a dried cranberry in his hand.

"None of your business." Squidward turned away, his head in hand.

"I think it is my business."

He turned sharply back. "How do you figure?"

"If you're chasing that E flat-blowing hussy Davy, it sure is my damn business."

"I'm going to tell her he's being a jerk if you don't back off."

Squilliam smiled suggestively. "Why, Squiddy. I had no idea."

"No idea my ass."

"Madly in love with me, eh, Squiddy?"

Squidward set his head in his hands, obscuring his face and revealing only his eyes, bangs, and half of his nose squishing out over his tentacles.

"There," he slid his hand over Squidward's to tug on the corner of his mouth. "That is my answer."

"So, what are you doing for the talent show?" he asked, looking away and trying to act casual.

"I am going to be amazing. What about you?"

"Interpretive dance."

When they finished their afternoon practice, Mr. Shores announced that he would personally put away the school instruments.

Squidward poked Squilliam's thigh. "Why don't you follow me into the woods so I can show you - ah...a special fingering technique."

He raised his unibrow. "What can you show me there that you can't show me in a soundproof practice room?"

"Natural wonders that will take your breath away."

"You want Mother Nature to do your job for you? Lazy bitch." He followed Squidward.

They arrived at a log by a stream overlooking a large canyon. "Well, we're here," said Squidward.

"So what did you want to do?"

"I'm up for - almost - anything," he said. "Just don't try to shove your clarinet inside me, all right?"

"Is that all?" He tried to feign joviality. "I can remember that. It isn't my clarinet I want to put inside you, anyway." Smirking a little, he said, "I thought you only wanted to have sex for love."

"But there's more than just romantic love. We can make love without making it anything more than what it is." As he reached for Squilliam's thighs, he bumped his arm into his clarinet, knocking his sheet music out of the sleeve of the case. "Damn it!" he scrambled to pick up the scattered papers. "Can you help me out here?"

"You and your cheap little clarinet case," he said, bending down to pick up the papers that had blown out of Squidward's immediate vicinity. He paused to read one.

"Squillie," he said, running to the edge of the stream to retrieve some stray sheets, "I like to study music as much as you do, but give me a break."

"No, no, I'm not studying – I mean, I am, but not for school. This is the music I wrote for you."

He joined Squilliam and looked over his shoulder. "Let me see that," he said, grabbing it. "This is the music you sabotaged me with. It even says, 'Flight of the Jellyfish.'"

"Read the subtitle, darling."

"'Ode to Squiddy.'"

"I have the lyrics written down in the cabin."

"Oh. That's okay, it can -"

"Oh, I remember it. Play, and I'll sing."

Squidward played a scale, then the piece in question, as Squilliam sang:

"You capture eyes and minds in captivation

As simple things like smiles and smirks

Can swing me from depression to elation,

Inspiring me to try until I find what works

To make you high like you've made me

And never let you run into stormy waves alone

Or leave your precious shoulders to bear the load

To make you higher than the surface of the sea

Or leave your gorgeous laugh to laugh alone

And always we will travel dear lover on this road."

Squidward lowered his clarinet, licking away some of the excess saliva hanging off his lip. "You rhymed 'alone' with 'alone'?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a valid artistic choice!"

"Wow...I can't believe you did all this. You could've thought of a better way than replacing my sheet music, though."

Squilliam shrugged, staring distractedly into Squidward's shoulder. "I couldn't think of anything."

"You composed this beautiful piece of music, and these amazing lyrics, and you're telling me you couldn't think of a single better way to give it to me?"

"I'm an artistic genius. I'm too busy making art to waste time on the distribution."

Squidward kissed his cheek. "I want your cock, Squillie."

Chuckling, he said, "That would make a very obvious 'I want' song, wouldn't it?" He clutched at his ass, holding him tightly against his chest as he rested his nose against his shoulders, mumbling something inaudibly.

He tilted his head back just enough to let his hair tickle Squilliam's face as he moved. "Hmm?"

"Let's pretend we're strangers."

"Okay," he said. "Like a roleplay?"

"Yeah, sure. Like a roleplay."

"Sounds sexy." He fiddled with the tassels of his uniformed shoulder. "I'll be that senior who sees you coming out of band practice and has a really nice new boat. You'll get in, and that's when the real fun begins."

"Where are we going to get a boat out here?"

"Use your imagination. You know, like our improv exercises."

"Oh, yes. Just like acting."

Squidward grabbed his hand, leading him to a smoothed and rounded boulder to lean back against. His chest heaved in anticipation. In an attempt to appear cool, he said suavely, "Hey, cutie, I've never seen you around here. You come here often?"

"Whenever I have band."

"Do you have anywhere to go?"

"No. My mother hasn't picked me up yet, and I'll be damned if I wait another five hours for her to show."

"Well, I have a boat that's nice and roomy. You wanna ride with me?"

"That's - very generous of you."

"It's no problem." Squidward pulled him by his hips to lean against the rock - an uncannily chair-shaped rock. He slid his hands under the cloth of Squilliam's band uniform, massaging as he drew his mouth closer to his cock, salivating over him. He wondered for a moment why Squillie had abruptly changed his mind, his lips trembling as he approached. He quickly discarded the thought and curled his lips around his teeth.

"Ooh, you get down to business, don't you?" He quickly hardened as his blond associate moved swiftly on him, massaging his ass. 'He's getting me off so fast...sucking my dick like a little whore...moaning sensually...' His blond lover moved a tentacle from the back of his thigh to tickle his balls, eliciting arpeggiated gasps from him as he drove his hips into his face.

Squidward nearly gagged, taking the moment Squilliam backed up before thrusting again to open up wider to accommodate him. 'Squillie just might forget about the clarinet, after all,' he thought, taking his cock deeper in his mouth, up his throat. 'Oh, Neptune, I hope he likes me as much as his other lovers.' He slowed the pace of his licking, his suction cups learning the texture of Squilliam's ass cheeks and sliding his hand inside. He caressed Squilliam's wrist with his free hand.

He panted heavily, "Oh yea...ah, I'm going to cum."

Squidward steadily painted the throbbing head of his cock with saliva and open-ended kisses, casually but enthusiastically received his semen.

Squilliam blinked, took the time to stare at Squidward. Still wearing his band uniform, he sat kneeling, straddled across Squilliam's legs. His disheveled hair - blond, dirty, and shiny - masked his widely naïve eyes and a deceptively innocent cum-stained smile. He cuddled Squidward in his arms, kissing him deeply, passionately, repeatedly, as they slid to the ground. "You're not a whore," he said, swallowing the jizz he'd mined from Squidward's mouth. Squilliam hated himself for how much he loved to see those cheeks sweaty, flushed, and begging for more contact.

"Oh...thanks." He kissed Squilliam's nose.

"I'll finish you up here, baby." He smeared some saliva onto his tentacle and began to stroke Squidward's dick. "Mmm. Your cock is magnificent, Squiddy. I should have written an ode to your huge, hot sex meat."

"That's...mm...your dirty talk? You get - ah, ah, a lot of requests to shut up, right?"

"Just shut up and cum. And yes."

"Stick to the oh-oh...odes." Squidward flipped his head back, limp in the aftermath of orgasm as he radiated plethora of colors in the sunlit shade.

They kissed, their mouths sideways, tips of tongues in scarce but urgent contact. "Delicious," he said, a wistful gleam in his eye. "Absolutely...you."

Squidward glanced at his watch. "We need to hurry, or we're gonna be late for the talent show."

"What's the rush? Wouldn't you rather stay here?" Squilliam asked, an enticing glow in his eye.

"Are you kidding? I spent all month rehearsing this routine."

He closed his hand over Squidward's, reaching to run his tentacle through his hair and down the back of his neck. His hair looked so clean, the sweat soaking between the strands failing to detract from that impression. Squilliam played with his hair, silently relishing the translucence of the moist, grimy film accumulating on his tentacle.

Squidward braced his arms against the sand to lift himself. Squilliam sat on his hand, earning him a look of bewildered irritation. "Squillie...what are you doing?"

"Why do you always have to be on time?" he asked in a defensive, accusatory tone.

"Maybe because I don't have a fortune I can pull out of my ass, I actually have to be on time."

"Squiddy, please..." He wrapped his legs around Squidward's waist, stroking his hips affectionately. Squidward leaned back into his touch while half-heartedly pushing him away. He smiled contentedly, sprawling against the back of a log as Squilliam guided him downward, clutching at the tassels, burying his face into his chest. Sand and dirt billowed up from the ground, soiling their uniforms and their quiet contact. For someone so poor, his face was remarkably unblemished. His whole body was remarkably unblemished. "...you're so beautiful," he finished the sentence unthinkingly and in a fragile, uncertain syllable.

"Oh...thanks." Self-conscious smile transformed into cocky confidence.

Infatuated blush giving way to a quivering smile, he said in exhalation, "You're right! Which way is camp again?"

"That way," he said, pointing to the trail they took to get there. Squilliam ran off as Squidward stood, bending over to pick up his clarinet. "Um, Squillie?" He paused to look back. "Your clarinet?" He held up the fancy royal purple monogrammed velvet case, then sullied by dirt, saliva, and cum, and jiggled it in his hand.

"But of course," said Squilliam, feigning confidence as he lithely retrieved his clarinet. "What are you hanging back there for, silly? Come!"

He ran to catch up and maintain a similar stride. "It really is beautiful out here. I guess I am glad Mr. Shores took us out here instead of some college dorms or something boring like that."

"I know, isn't it great getting our parents to pay for us to go into the woods and make music together?"

He chuckled, extended his hand as if to hold Squilliam's, but retracted it. "Yeah. It's great."

"Well?" he asked, firmly pressing for an answer to an unheard question.

"Huh? Oh...uh, yeah, sounds great."

"I'm glad you think so. I thought it sounded a little faggy, even for me."

"By all means, fag it up, honey." 'Oh no, I'm blushing...I need a distraction. Look at his feet.' He looked down at Squilliam's feet. As he did, he fantasized that Squilliam wrapped his feet around his face and poked his feet into his ass. 'Bad idea.' He tried to shake the thoughts away and look into his eyes. "Um, Squilliam?"

"Yes, Squiddy?"

"Mmpth!" He fell face forward over a rock. When he got up, he asked, "So what made you change your mind?"

"Hm?"

"About letting me suck your dick."

"Oh, that. I just felt so awful about what I did to you earlier, I wanted to make it up to you."

"You're the only guy I know who apologizes with blowjobs."

"About that." He took Squidward's hands in his, suction cups clasping briefly. "As far as I'm concerned, we've never had sex."

Laughing nervously, he said, "Oh, I get it. You're one of those people who doesn't count oral sex as sex."

"No, Squiddy. I'm one of those people who wants to forget we ever did this."

He stroked Squilliam's wrist. "I wasn't good enough for you?"

"No, no, that isn't it. I loved you."

He furrowed his brows. "So, what, are you ashamed of me?"

"No, Squiddy, that isn't it at -"

"Heaven forbid that you mix with the lower classes! What would people think?"

"That isn't it at all!" He caressed the outsides of Squidward's hands. "It hardly thrills my parents you're poor, but I don't give a swimming fuck what they think."

"Then why?" He let out a gasp of panic. "Is it because you think I'm a lesser clarinet player?"

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Then why do you want to forget I sucked you -"

"You didn't. My mysterious blond lover did."

"So you weren't just roleplaying. What the hell is wrong with you?" He yanked his arms away.

"Nothing, dear. But we're such good friends - don't you agree?"

"Yeah."

"And we're obviously compatible lovers. I don't want to get involved like that."

"Did you ever take logic? Because I think you failed. Spectacularly."

"What do you mean by that, Squiddy dear?"

"If our friendship is good, and the sex is good, then why won't you get involved?"

"I just can't, all right?" Squilliam's voice became harsh. "We can still get together...just be my mysterious blond lover." He tugged on Squidward's arm to stop him and kissed his shoulder.

"And you joke about me seeing a therapist." He kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he trialed his responses. "No. Sorry, but whether we're in a relationship or not, I can't make love to you when you won't even acknowledge that we screwed."

They approached the rear entrance of the rec hall. "I understand." As they walked closer to the door, where a lamp hung on the exterior offered diffuse illumination against the twilight sky, Squilliam closed his hands around Squidward's wrists, pulling him near to kiss him. "Thank you, darling, for a wonderful...time together."

As Squilliam walked inside, Squidward said, "We'll always be more than friends."

He said without looking back, "I know that, Squiddy." He paused in his step, holding the door open. "I know that."

Squidward followed him inside the changing room, picking up his leotard and sweatbands. As he undressed, he scrutinized Squilliam's unmoving form and said, "Why aren't you getting changed?"

"I'm waiting until you finish your act, Squidsy."

"Why do you even bother calling me cute pet names? It won't get you back in my pants."

"It suits you." He leaned back to watch Squidward stretch himself into his leotard.

He paused, the top half of the garment hanging loose over his torso, the shoulder straps held taut in his hands. "What do you mean by that?"

"You're cute. It's even adorable how hard you try to hide it."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Of course you aren't. But you try so hard, and you suck so badly at it, I can't help but love you that much more for it."

"Would you please stop flirting with me? You've made it clear you don't want to date -"

"Well..."

"- you won't fuck me unless I pretend I'm someone else, so why do you keep flirting with me?"

Squilliam simply smiled, pulled the leotard straps over his shoulders to complete his costume, and kissed him. "You're on, Squidsy," he whispered into his cheek, patting his back as he nervously pranced onstage.

The music started, a vivacious romantic rondo. He moved to the beat, the audience quieting to watch him express himself confidently and passionately through interpretive dance.

When the piece concluded, his band mates cheered for him, lauding his performance with such comments as, "I wish I could dance like that," and "He's so artistic!" As he left the stage to join his peers in the front row of the audience, he overheard Jeffery saying, "This is why people call us band fags, you know."

Squidward never understood why people connected his artistic sensibilities to his sexuality. Especially when those people were similarly artistic themselves. They were probably just jealous.

"Thank you, Mr. Tentacles, for that wonderful performance. Next, Mr. Fancyson will perform the musical number Don't Tell Daddy, from a renowned staple of musical theatre."

After an interlude of shifting furniture behind the makeshift curtain of bed sheets followed by stubbed toes and hushed apologies, the curtain rose again to reveal Squilliam dressed in a tight, lacy French maid outfit, sitting on cheap upholstered kitchen furniture borrowed from the cafeteria. He also wore an alluring smile, as if to cue the music to start.

"Daddy," he said, "thinks I'm paying my way through college. A secluded little college known as 'snooty Sunshine Glen.'" He blew a trifle of hair out of his eyes. "Daddy - doesn't even have an inkling that I'm working in a gay bar arousing hot young men." Shooting the audience a look of repressed stimulation, Squilliam fondled the tabletop with three of his legs.

He proceeded to sing of his character's concealed occupation, flashing glimpses of his legs as he strutted back and forth across the stage. The audience, male and female alike, gazed in awe as he wiggled his tentacles at them in a shamelessly tantalizing fashion.

Squidward stared in special fascination. "Don't tell daddy what you know." Squilliam's voice almost seemed to beckon him to join him onstage. Instead, much like his other male peers, he sat uncomfortably in his seat, trying to suppress the rise his rival was getting out of him, the task growing increasingly difficult as his dance moves grew increasingly raunchy. The song finished, prompting Squilliam to stand still and elegantly bow forward (to whistles and "hubba-hubbas"), only to rapidly spin around to show off to everyone the lack of a back to his maid's outfit and shake his exposed ass in Squidward's face.

Squidward fainted out of his seat. But in all fairness, so did the guy sitting next to him. Squilliam leapt offstage to assist Squidward on his way back to consciousness.

"What happened?" he asked groggily.

Rachel said matter-of-factly, "You passed out from the overload of sexy."

"You know what they say - save the best act for last," Squilliam said, helping him up to the bench. "Are you sure you can sit up?"

He nodded firmly, eyes strictly avoiding that laced up and sweaty torso.

"Good then. I'll stay here until you're ready to go to dinner." He clutched Squidward's hand.

"Thanks," he said half-ironically. Squilliam crossed his legs, tickling his thigh with his feet. "You'll never give up, will you?"

"No. Never."

He held Squilliam's hand tighter before letting go. "Let's eat." He stood, testing his balance.

"What about poor Jeffery lying on the floor here? I think he needs a little of the 'fancy touch' to revive him."

"Uh yeah, that's the last thing you need to do. Let Mr. Shores handle it."

"He really looks like he could use some fancy loving, though."

"Just go!" Squidward snapped.

"All right!" They walked out of the rec room together as Mr. Shores attended to Jeffery.

"Why do you tease me like that?" Squidward moaned, stirring his pasta in the flickering, piss-yellow lighting of the cafeteria.

"Can't talk yet, doll; I'm still getting my dinner."

"I can wait."

Squilliam, still wearing the backless maid dress, sat energetically at their table beside Squidward. "I tease you because you make it so much fun. Now let me have some of that pasta," he said, taking a forkful off Squidward's tray and depositing it into his mouth.

"You have the same food on your own tray. And I thought you hated this stuff."

"I know...and I do. But peasant food is so much more fun coming from you, Squiddy darling."

He mumbled under his breath. Squilliam turned sharply on him.

"Excuse me?"

"It's nothing." Squidward ate another bite.

"No, you said something, now why don't you say it to my face, Sizzle-Lips?"

"It's because of you that people call us band fags, you know."

Squilliam seemed genuinely hurt before taking a moment to twist his lips into a grin. "No, Squiddy, it's because of people like us. And you're wrong anyway. It wouldn't matter if we liked chicks instead of dicks; they'd find another way to get at us. We're different, you and me. We're...artistic." He pouted his lower lip against Squidward's neck.

Squidward slammed his food tray down against the table. "I don't want this! You'll fuck any guy who gives you the green light, you beg me for sex, but won't do it because I want a relationship. I finally say, 'Why not?' and try to get a little casual nookie in your room, and you tell me no. Then, when I finally suck you off, you deny it ever happened. Make up your fucking mind, sweetums, or I'm giving up on you."

He stood and put a hand on his hip in a markedly off-center indignant pose. "Oh, so you can call me 'sweetums,' but I can't call you Squiddums?"

"You are so full of it."

"Squidward, I..." he sat down again, "...you terrify me sometimes." He stared at his portion of the bland cafeteria fare, giving the mush a listless poke of the fork tines.

"Pssht. Don't dick around with me, Squilliam."

"No, really. Every day I'm scared you'll tell me you won't put up with my shit anymore, that you don't want me around. Then I'd just have Maxi. And no, I don't mean that the way it sounds, you perv."

"Liar. You don't mean a word of that."

"I mean it. I know it sounds like a silly cliché, but I don't want to lose you."

"And I don't want to play games for someone who doesn't even want to win."

Squilliam lifted his skirt up seductively, letting the lace trail over his thighs. "Squiddy, I want - I want you with me, tonight. Meaning I want to fuck you up your tight little ass until you cum."

Squidward gulped, his face flushing while his eyes stayed fixed on Squilliam's thighs. "Promise that you want to fuck Squiddy, not some mysterious blond."

"Yes, I want you with me." He shivered, his thighs rustling the lace. There were some disadvantages to wearing scanty costumes. "Please say yes."

"Yes, Squillie," he said, hugging him slowly, perching his head on his shoulder. Squidward took the narrow shoulder strap in his teeth, licked the skin below it, and pulled it down to hang loose at his side.

He shuddered. "Ooh! Save some of that for tonight, hm?"

"Oh! Sure," he said, rubbing Squilliam's shoulder and backing away.

He stared into Squidward's eyes, watching him eagerly tuck each morsel into his mouth. 'Tonight, I will make you feel better than anyone has ever made you feel before.' Biting his lower lip, he said, "Do you want to -"

"Let's go." He grasped Squilliam's hand, and they made a furtive exit.

They kicked their cabin door open, Squidward slipping his hands through the sides of Squilliam's dress, grasping his hips and massaging him above his cock. Squilliam held onto Squidward's shoulder, entangling his tentacle in the thick of his hair as he kissed deeply, indulgingly, while he flicked the light switch on with the back of one of his feet.

Squilliam pulled at the leotard, dragging it tight against his skin and kicking it loose at their ankles. "What do you say, Squiddy? You want me to keep this on...or off?" He rolled his shoulder, the loose strap of his dress dangling at his side.

"Leave it on."

"Whatever you say." He squeezed below his ass, stepping on the crumpled leotard, leading Squidward forward out of the garment and laying him on his bed. "Mm. That ass is too irresistible to ignore. I just have to get a piece of it." He gripped a cheek greedily. "I'm going to fuck you until you fall through the mattress." Squidward gasped. "What's wrong?"

"I just need to -"

"Relax, baby. Relax and let me ravish you." That voice alone was sufficiently soothing to wash his anxiety away.

Squilliam reached across the mattress to unzip his suitcase pouch, shuffling through the contents until he had retrieved a bottle of lubricant. He crawled onto the bed beside him, lube in his teeth. "I want to take your pretty virgin flesh," he said, taking the lube into his hand, "screw you until you die a little," he licked from Squidward's navel up to his nipples, "and fuck you until you feel it in your chest." He sucked on Squidward's neck, a lubricated tentacle tentatively swirling around the entrance of his ass.

Squidward held his breath.

He trailed his lips lightly over his shoulder. "Tell me how much you want me, my pretty band fag."

"No," he said softly, clenching his body.

"What's wrong? Should I stop?" He looked at Squidward's tightly shut eyes and cautiously felt his nose. "You always liked to talk dirty in our chats about having sex."

"You might as well stop." He turned away, burying his head in the pillow. "And that was a long time ago."

Squilliam touched his shoulder. "Something is wrong."

"So something's wrong. And?"

"And I want to know what it is."

Squidward sat up, staring widely into his eyes in an obvious attempt to dissuade tears. "Yeah, right! You'll just make jokes, or look at me like a pathetic child."

"Squiddy," he said, holding him in his arms, stroking his sides, "do you honestly believe I would act like that? Because if that's what you think, I'm glad you stopped me when you did."

"What difference does it make to you? You just want an orgasm."

"Well, you're wrong. You're different from my other lovers. You're my best friend." He kissed Squidward's nose, inhaling the precious nasal laughter that precipitated.

"I don't think you'd really make fun of me. It's just - I don't know how to start. Have you ever...have you ever had something taken away so cruelly, so senselessly, that you wonder why you ever had it in the first place...?"

Squilliam suppressed a twitch of his eyelid. "Have...you, darling?" he said, his voice unusually shaky and breathy.

He leaned forward, hands gripping his chin as Squilliam settled into the sheets and pillows, stroking the small of his back. "You know, that time I was out sick, in the hospital..."

"Oh, yes. That was just before I made you orgasm in band."

"Right. Remember how I was still light-headed, and I dropped my clarinet and didn't want to play?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Squiddy dear, you'd just come back from the hospital. And medication side effects don't qualify as not wanting to play."

"No. The reason I went to the hospital - well, at first it was for a physical emergency, but they took care of that. But after that...I was so terrified, Squillie...I couldn't even look at a clarinet without panicking."

"So wait, don't tell me, they locked you up in the loony bin for a clarinet phobia?"

"No! I mean..." Squidward closed his eyes and leaned against Squilliam's chest, their hearts pressed together and beating asynchronously. "T-they...raped me, Squillie. They pushed me down, and - and they shoved my clarinet up my ass."

"Oh Squidward, I'm so sorry. My poor baby, I understand what you're going through."

"How can you know?" He pushed Squilliam aside. "How the hell could you know? What, your beloved family snail died before your virgin eyes? You once took a family trip to a psych ward to see the suffering veterans? Or one of your father's corporate sensitivity seminars told you everything you needed to know when your male lover gets raped that you were too afraid to ask!"

Squilliam sniffled. "No."

"You've never had anything this bad happen! You hire servants and a limo and a chauffeur and if anything else goes wrong, you can bribe your way out of that, too. Well, guess what, honey? One day you're going to wake up, and you won't see your big fancy lifestyle cruise, but real life, Fancyboy! Real fucking life, and it's going to crush you, and all your dreams, too."

"You're right, Squiddy. I should be more sensitive."

The door burst open to Harry running inside. "Did you do him yet?"

Squilliam gritted his teeth. "Do you mind? We're having a moment."

"And here I thought I was at band camp. I'll clear out, but I can only guarantee you guys an hour before lights out." The door swung shut.

"He's good fish folk." He turned back to Squidward. "Oh, I'm such an ass! You know I was only joking, when I pretended to fuck you with my clarinet this morning, right? I mean, I did want to fuck you, but not with my clarinet! I meant a certain other instrument that's long and hard for you." He stroked Squidward's back, gripping his knee.

He reached his tentacles out to embrace Squilliam's. "That's - that's all right, Squillie, you didn't know."

"So...do you want to talk about it?" He nuzzled his forehead against Squidward's.

"I don't know what I'd say..." He tightened his grip of his clarinet, fiddled with the lace of Squilliam's dress, and released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "When I realized I couldn't hold a clarinet, much less play one, I didn't know how I could live. When my answer to the doctor's question, 'How are you feeling today?' became 'Ready to jump off a cliff,' they transferred me to the psych ward.

"Sure they talked to me, gave me medication, but I still couldn't always play. I felt like someone had stepped on my gut and wouldn't get off, instead saying, 'Nope, still have to ruin the one good thing left in your life.' Because, you know, the reason they did this, they saw me kissing you. They knew I loved every second of it." Squidward wrapped his tentacles around Squilliam's, locking suction cups.

"Do you know who did it, sweetheart?"

"Mm-hm."

"Good, then they went off to jail, right? But I never heard about that, and you'd think...oh Squidward." Squidward sniffed back a tear, ashamed. "Oh, Squidward. How could you let them get away with that?" Squilliam said, spitting with a sneer. He grabbed Squidward's shoulders insistently. "Why didn't you report the bastards who did this to you?" Squidward could only snivel, his lips trembling. "Well? Why the hell not, Squiddy?"

"Because they said they'd hurt you twice as badly."

Squilliam's expression softened, his grip on Squidward's shoulders loosening. "You should have reported them. The police would've taken care of it. You don't need to worry about me."

"You know damn well the police don't always 'take care of everything.' Especially for someone like me. What if they'd raped you too, or worse -"

"But the police would've taken care of me."

Squidward nodded.

"The important thing is that...that..." Squilliam brushed his hand against Squidward's chin and kissed him long and hard, their nostrils pulsating in a struggle for breath, each unwilling to part to inhale the sweet ocean oxygen, each much preferring the salty taste of horny cephalopod. Finally, their breathing exercises were paying off. When they broke the kiss for a breath, Squidward started to sob. They fell back against the bed together, Squilliam taking Squidward in a gentle embrace.

"So what's the important thing you wanted to tell me?" Squidward asked, nose muffled against his shoulder.

"The most important thing for you to remember is to never let anyone make you give up on yourself. Is that clear, Squiddy?" As Squidward held his clarinet between the two of them, they kissed again, Squilliam wiping away Squidward's tears and holding his cheeks. "I won't let anyone hurt you," Squilliam said, squeezing Squidward's back and eliciting a moan from him. "I'll do whatever you want. We don't have to -"

"I want to."

"I could suck you off instead."

"Squillie, I want this." Squidward stroked the back of Squilliam's head, running his tentacle through his short black hair and kissing his nose. They rubbed heads together, intertwining two tentacles and locking suction cups. In between kisses, Squidward said, "Oh, Neptune, you're gorgeous, Squillie."

Squilliam closed his lips over Squidward's and slipped away from him to say, "You're so beautiful, Squiddy," before pushing his mouth against Squidward's again and feeling for his tongue. He grabbed Squidward by the shoulders and hoisted him on top of himself, taking care to avoid banging up the clarinet that lay neglected on the bed. Squidward kissed his neck, softly but with teasing nibbles. Squilliam lifted his skirt with two of his legs, hands free to play at his nipples in slow, gyrating motions. "Ready?" Squidward licked his lips in desire. As he moved from manipulating his skirt to fingering Squidward gently, Squilliam grew uneasy. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Squilliam! I know you're not my fucking rapist."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, please, Squillie, don't -"

"Because I'll bottom for you if you'd like."

"Uh, what?" This caught him off guard. One thing Squidward had learned in his year roaming among the band geeks and listening in concealed fascination as his classmates discussed the sex life of his crush, was that Squilliam would never, ever take it in the ass. Anyone who proposed it to him got laughed at, as if they'd just asked him to date their lovely sister. He looked into Squilliam's eyes and said, "Excuse me?"

"I'll bottom for you, if it'll make you more comfortable."

"Oh..."

"Well?"

"Oh! Actually, that does sound pretty good to me."

"Well then, please, fuck me, like we're two lonely geeks who met in band class looking for a little companionship," Squilliam said, handing him a bottle of lube and changing positions, his stomach on the sheets and his feet swaying back and forth as he pouted his lips.

"But Squilliam, that's exactly what we are."

Squilliam giggled dreamily. "I know. Now, please, be gentle. I need a lover's touch." He shifted to his side, letting Squidward curl an arm around his chest.

"Of course," he said, applying the lubrication. As he suctioned Squilliam's ass, applying the lube, he noted how sensitive and reactive Squilliam was to every slightest touch, making little squealing sounds and gasping subtly yet rapidly. "How is it...going? So far." Squidward slapped himself mentally for how foolish and naïve he sounded. But he couldn't let himself ruin their first night together by making some novice error. What an awful way to repay the guy who let him love band class and relish in the resplendent beauty of music again.

Squilliam chuckled, "Just - mm...fine, Squiddy. Keep going, love. You're - ah! That's goood...keep doing that... you're doing great."

He caressed Squilliam's ankles with his feet. "Just let me know when you're ready."

"Okay, go."

Squidward hesitated a moment, unsure whether Squilliam truly wanted him to penetrate at that moment, or whether he'd just said that because he thought Squidward wanted to. Confused, yet determined, he went ahead. And rocked Squilliam's world. Whooshes of bubbles rose against their skin with each thrust, their sweat slipping together and diminishing their friction as their pleasure intensified.

Squilliam arched back into Squidward's panting breaths. "Mmph..Squiddy? You make...uuh-I luu-"

"Huh?"

"You're - ah...ouh. Ahh, amazing."

It took Squidward awhile to figure out what Squilliam was going on about, but once he did, he grinned and licked at Squilliam's neck. "You're in...credible, Squillie." He gradually increased the tempo, each of his tentacles embracing him, rubbing his cock at a rapid pace. As Squidward came, he moaned and kicked back, drawing Squilliam's legs in as well, then clutched the rough sheets, his skin flashing iridescent.

He chuckled and sighed, his leg folding over the back of Squilliam's knee. Squidward's stroking became more measured, teasing almost, before accelerating to crescendo. He kissed his cheek, his long, blond hair kissing Squilliam's shoulder and back as he did. Squilliam brushed his tentacles repeatedly against Squidward's, tightening and curling around his feet, only to relax and prod them again.

He came in Squidward's hand, hips jolting forward as he eased back against the mattress. His face shuddered in waves of deep purple and blue. Through heavy breaths, he said, "Squiddy," pant, pant, "that...was incredible."

Squidward winked, licking the corner of his mouth before gorging himself on ejaculate. "Oh," he looked down at his dick and bit his lip. "You're bleeding. I'm so sorry, are you ok-"

"It's all right," he said, cutting him off. "It's just a little. You more than made up for it with your outstanding performance."

"Quit it; I know you're flattering me."

"No...really. Most guys...they just want to get in, get their pleasure, and get out again. I should know; I'm one of them. But you...you're so good. It's like we've done this already. You know me. Everything that nobody else can see, you see it right away."

"Wow. That's actually kind of profound. Squillie, tonight was the best night of my life."

"Even better than the day you met me?" He asked, batting his eyes sweetly.

"Let's see - I didn't get laid the day I met you."

Squilliam rested his head against a pillow as they disentangled each other, draping a leg loosely around Squidward as he pulled a blanket over them. "That is true. Thank you, Squidward. I can say with confidence that you're the best lover I've ever had." Squilliam yawned. Not the best, really. But definitely the most compatible. He had the potential to be the best.

"Oh, thanks," he said, blushing. Squidward closed his eyes as he rushed his admission out, "I think I love you," but his tongue lingering on each syllable of the name: "Squilliam Fancyson." After a brief interval without a response, Squidward opened an eye to peer over at his lover. Squilliam had fallen asleep.