Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?
Chapter Seven: Not So Fine
I landed gently on the front steps to our house, my left foot hitting the ground gently as my right relaxed from it's previously bent disposition to join it. I flexed my wings before I tucked them away below my shoulder blades.
I jammed open the door roughly, contrasting my calm landing. We didn't have keys—if someone could very well find the house, we were in enough trouble. Keys weren't a very large priority in comparison; we didn't need to protect the contents of the house, but rather, the inhabitants.
I walked solidly, my footsteps reverberating through the house, "FANG? YOU HERE?" I called out from the main entranceway. I walked a bit further in, sort of in a rush to get out. If he wasn't here in the first place, going through the house looking for him would just be a waste of time. I glanced around the area quickly, but it was quiet. Running my eyes over the first floor once more, I suddenly caught sight of a black shirt thrown onto the floor haphazardly. It was inconspicuously sitting on the floor where the tiles of the kitchen area cleanly gave out to the carpeting of the den. I picked it up, it was wet in some areas. It was the shirt he had been wearing today... I think. It's hard to tell his clothes apart.. they all tend to be black. At least it was never trouble to sort his clothes in the laundry, but he recently began to do his own laundry the past two months.
I looked around the kitchen and caught sight of ice cubes sitting on top of the
kitchen counter next to the fridge. I fingered the wet areas of the shirt before I left it over the edge of the half-opened kitchen window to dry in the sun. At least I knew where he was now. Calmer now, I walked up the stairs, expecting to find him in his room. I knocked once on his door. "Yo, Fang, you in there?" I called out. I was received with silence. I knocked again, twice this time. Still nothing.
Quieting down, I closed my eyes and listened carefully, trying to tune into that genetically-engineered raptor hearing of mine. Unfortunately, I wasn't very good at it—never have been. In fact, Iggy's really the only one that can actually put that ability to any good use. The rest of us have yet to figure out how to focus in on it properly. I'm not sure if it was raptor hearing or not, but I heard water rushing out from somewhere. I turned to walk towards the door next to the one across the narrow hallway from Fang's, Gazzy and Iggy's room—the sound was coming from the boy's bathroom. The door was left slightly ajar, and I could distinctly, clearly, definitely hear the sound of the tap running under high pressure. Fang left the door ajar, probably because he hadn't expected anyone else to be here. I was about to just wait until he came out to ask him why he'd charged back home instead, but then I remembered the last time he stayed in the bathroom for a considerable amount of time.
It was when.. when he'd gotten sick. His penis had gotten all hard and he'd been hot all over, and then the sticky whitish-clear stuff had come out of it. He told me he was fine this morning.. Angel said he was fine.. and he'd seemed better than normal all day today.. I frowned. He wouldn't hide it from me if he got sick again, would he?
I stealthily ran past the bathroom door to the other side of the doorway to get a better view into the bathroom through the space left ajar. I discreetly peeked in to see what he was doing. Privacy wasn't really a priority in the flock. I was the leader.. and having privacy meant hiding things from me.. which was not O.K. in my book. Anyway, besides Fang, the kids haven't yet addressed that issue as a concern. Perhaps it comes with age, cause it was just 4 months ago that I stopped helping Gazzy bathe, so I wouldn't expect Gazzy to advocate for privacy anytime all too soon. Frowning at the thought, I worriedly wondered if I should go back to bathing him and make sure he doesn't grow accustomed to the concept of privacy anytime soon.
Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I peeked in through sliver of light that streamed out of the bathroom window into the hallway. I caught sight of Fang. His elbows were on either sides of the kitchen sink, his arms laying flat on the white marble as his sopping wet hair dripped into the sink. He had closed the streaming tap, and his neck had fallen forward with his head facing the faucet drain. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the belt on his pants was undone. His briefs were down to his knees, but his loose black pants still barely hung on his mid-thighs with the undone belt buckle weighing it down. Fang was breathing roughly, so loud that I could hear it clearly from outside the door. On further inspection, I immediately noticed that his penis was swollen again. I frowned, hard. He wasn't fine.
Suddenly, Fang turned. The sink to his left, he was now facing the toilet bowl adjacent to it. As he took a step forward to stand in front of it, the weight of his belt buckle helped his pants fall down to the white tiled floor with a clanging noise. It bunched up to gather at his ankles. Still breathing roughly, he put his left hand on the wall above the toilet bowl, putting his weight on the wall as he leaned forward over the toilet bowl. With his fingers trembling, his right hand made it's way to his engorged penis hanging around his mid thigh.
"Ugh," he grunted softly, as he squeezed down the length of his penis with his thumb and middle finger. He was applying pressure, err—friction I think he had said?, to his penis like I had last night. His eyes were closed, and a few drops of water fell from his still-wet hair. His breathing shook, sounding uneasy. The arm that he was putting all of his weight on against the wall trembled. His elbow collapsed and his arm he was leaning on bent; his breathing was growing more and more shallow. Fang's whole upper body was trembling, and he was obviously having a hard time supporting himself. He leaned his head down to rest on his extended forearm, still breathing hard. He sounded pained.
I slammed the bathroom door open, incapable of being able to stand watching this any longer. I glared at him, my face betraying me, my expression emotionally strained.
"You're not fine, Fang," I said to him fiercely. His arm still trembling against the wall, he turned his head 90 degrees to his left to look at me. I wasn't sure if the beads of water on his face were from his soaked hair, or just mere sweat. His eyes widened considerably, still leaning against the wall, he looked at me.
"Max, what're you.. doing here?" he asked in a broken voice, surprised to seem me standing there with my face distraught.
"WHY don't you tell me you're not okay Fang? Do you not trust me? WHY DONT YOU TELL ME?" I screamed at him. I could feel tears threatening to fall over. I shook my head hard, successfully making the excess drops of water in my tear ducts fly away instead of falling down onto my face. I looked at him fiercely. He stared right back, his face intense, eyebrows furrowed in conflict. After two long seconds, he turned away from me to look at the hand he was leaning on. He exhaled a large shallow breath, his neck immediately falling forward to look down into the toilet bowl. His hand let go of his throbbing penis and hung at his other side dejectedly. His posture was weak. He was slouching.
I felt my fierce expression soften.. I could see confliction on Fang's face, the frustration, the embarrassment, the pain, the longing, the intensity. It was Fang. No wonder he was like this... I couldn't stop him, or force him to be anything else other than who he was. And it was this same Fang who would always help me up when I'm down, or lost, or crying. I couldn't get rid of any of the things I saw in his face.. but I could help him, I thought.
My face no longer as fierce as it had been when I'd slammed the door open, I walked over to Fang. His head was still down, his right hand hanging limply by his side, his body leaning forward against the wall. His upper body was no longer trembling, but for a millisecond I swore I saw his knees falter in a slight tremble.
I walked over to him. I paused for a second, and then suddenly grabbed his shoulders with my hands, making him face me. His head roughly jerked to the side with the sudden movement, both of his hands hanging dejectedly at his sides. I pressed my palms into his upper shoulders so that he fell back against the wall consecutive to the corner the toilet was placed in. The bowl was to his right now. His head was still down, but through his dark bangs, I saw his eyes look up at me questioningly. His back was leaning against the wall now, the ice-glass bathroom window was about two feet to his left.
"You need to let me help you Fang.." I said to him, my palms still on his shoulders. My voice betrayed me, laced with emotion. I looked up at his dark eyes pleadingly, searchingly.
I let go of his shoulder, and knelt down, still looking up at him. I sat, kneeling in front of him on the cold white tiles of the bathroom floor. He looked down at me sitting on the floor, still standing slumped against the wall. I placed my hand on his upper thighs, on either side of his enlarged penis. My knees were lightly making contact with his toes, his pants gathered at his ankles. I leaned closer to his body, looking up at him. His jaw nearly touched his chest as he quietly looked down at me, his face looked pained.
"Okay," he whispered softly to me. I knew that that simple word of consent constituted him to overcome plagues of defiant willpower to say. I knew he really didn't want to say it.. but he knew he had to.
I looked up at him, relief washing over me. He would let me help him.. assume my role as leader of the flock. I could protect him.
He looked down at me, his eyes dark. I looked back up at him once more, and then tilted my head back down to examine his penis. Last night it had been all dark in his room. Now that it was daylight, standing stark right in front of me, I truly realized how large it was. I saw the hard flesh, engorged pink, the veins underneath the skin. I wrapped both my hands around it, my fingers and thumbs three or four millimeters away from meeting each other. I rubbed it first, remembering Fang's comment last night about the friction. I heard a sharp gasp somewhere above me. I looked up to see Fang still staring down at me, his face intense, and something dark was in his eyes—an emotion I couldn't quite place.
"Are you okay?" I asked frantically, conscious of the sharp gasp he had just made, "I'm sorry!" I apologized furiously. I quickly went to slide my right fist up the entire length, trying to make my thumb touch my fingers, subsequently causing me to squeeze it hard. I had watched him do this himself with two fingers before, so that must be something I could be sure and safe of doing. Fang grunted as I did this, pushing his pelvis forward. I put the hand that had been resting on his upper left thigh on the side of his penis while I slid my right hand onto the top of the curiously bulbous end of his penis.
Speculating it more carefully, the tiny slit on top, I thought, was probably where the whitish stuff was supposed to come out of. Determinedly, I stroked and pulled and twisted the length of his penis harder. I went up and down, both of my hands surrounding his penis, taking turns to go up from the bottom. I heard him grunting and groaning up above me. I looked up, and saw that he was squeezing his eyes shut, small wrinkles could be seen on the edges of his eyelids. His head was no longer looking down, as his neck was thrown back to the wall so that his head was lying flat against the wall. He was alternating his head from side in frustration, his teeth gritted, straining against the cool white bathroom wall tiles as he grunted.
"Ugh.. Max.. Don't stop.." he managed in between groans. I nodded to myself, and continued to slide my fingers up and down. My fingers were getting a bit slippery, saturated, for some unknown reason. Looking closer, I noticed a small amount of clear fluid leak from the tip of the bulbous end of his penis. I was overjoyed, the whitish stuff should be coming out soon, I thought. Then Fang would feel better again.
Momentarily, for just a second, I lost my grip. On the downstroke, my left hand accidentally slid all the way down. The momentum threw my head onto his upper left thigh, my left hand had immediately clamped onto a sac-like area below his throbbing penis to keep my arm from falling through between his legs. I quickly corrected myself, immediately lifting my head up—Fang wasn't all too keen on too much bodily contact, as far as the flock knew. I was about to let go of the sacs my left hand was hanging from when suddenly a rough, callused hand grabbed my wrist tightly. Fang was breathing deep, hard, shallow breaths. He had bent down to grasp my left wrist. I looked up and was met with an intense gaze, eyes scattered as if he was in the midst of a fury of passion. Fang's cheeks were stained red, I was speechless—I'd never seen him so flustered before, and honestly had never known that he was even capable of such facial expressions.
"That.. that felt good." he said to me, looking to my eyes with an intense gaze. Mesmerized at his intensity, I stared back for a second longer before I nodded determinedly. He let go of my wrist and leant back against the wall as I began to massage the sac-like area below his penis, I was rewarded with satisfied groans sounding above me. I continued to slide up and down his penis with my right hand as my left hand pulled and applied pressure to the area beneath. I curiously began to feel the sac-like area harden.
At this point, Fang stopped standing still. He impulsively began to move his pelvis towards me, squirming for more contact. His groans grew louder
"Max... Max... Max, Max, Max, nn—Ugh... Maximum.. Max.. please don't stop, max.." he whispered desperately, in tune with each stroke I gave him. My face felt like it was flaming, I felt hot all over, the way he was saying my name was so.. so.. I blushed. I didn't know what it was.. His voice was deep and gruff, and he was saying my name with such desperation, such need.. I turned my head to the side to avoid looking at him.
He groans were growing louder and louder, the sacs underneath his penis were completely hard by now and he was fidgeting his pelvic region hard in frustration as I continued to go up and down. I took his directions and went harder, faster. It felt like there were two balls inside the loose-skinned sacs that I was holding in my left hand.
"UGH, UGH, MAX, MAX.. THAT.. IT FEELS LIKE.. ALMOST..," he gasped out. I looked up at him. Beads of sweat made their way down the side of his jaw. His adams apple bobbed back up and down the length of his long neck.
He moaned loudly and my fingers suddenly, rapidly became doused in sticky white fluid coming out of the bulbous tip of his penis. I kept on pumping his penis up and down despite the white fluid spattering everywhere in bursts of ejaculation, as it still wasn't becoming soft yet. I felt the hard sacs I had been massaging soften substantially. That's a good sign, I thought to myself. Fang groaned loudly, his knees trembled before they bent a bit, bringing his lower-regions down closer to me. Adjusting to his position, I sat down on my heels to level myself with his still-exploding penis. He was slowly sliding down the cool white tiles of the bathroom wall he had been leaning against. The white fluid was getting all over him—a large amount was splayed on his abdomen, spread all over his thighs, and it had gotten all over the front of my shirt, below my neckline on my chest, as well as all over my neatly folded thighs. The fluid kept squirting out haphazardly, but the stream began to lessen soon enough. Fang slid further down the wall, breathing hard, as his penis grew soft in my hands.
He was sitting down on the cold white tiles of the bathroom floor, his back against the wall. We were facing eachother—his knees up on either side of me, my calves neatly folded beneath my thighs. His now softened penis hung limply in between his raised thighs, just barely an inch away from the edges of my folded knees. His breathing was still harsh, and he sounded immensely tired, I noted worriedly. The elbows sitting on his knees supported his head. He was looking down, only his messy dark head of hair in my line of vision. I looked at him worriedly, he was still breathing hard and still trembling—he was a mess. He wasn't the composed Fang I had always seen him as, he was flustered, tired, trembling, wrought by whatever sickness he had. I felt excess fluid flood into the surface of my eyes, threatening to tip over the edge.. what was wrong with my best friend? What would I do without him? I'd never seen him in such a state before, sitting before me naked, uncomposed, trembling in his own skin, all his vulnerabilities out in the open. I knew he wasn't comfortable with this either. I didn't know what to do. I'd like to say there'd always be a plan, but I really didn't know. Was this some weird side affect of what those white-coats had done to us? What was wrong with him? I gasped brokenly to hold in my breath and turned my head quickly to look away, willing the tears in my eyes to stay in.. I couldn't let him see me cry out in the open, not in sheer daylight. Please, please, I begged my emotions not to betray me. I couldn't let him see me like this. It'd just be us admitting how scared we really were as to what was happening to him.
I felt a hand on my left cheek. Fang gently ran his calloused thumb over my cheekbone, wiping away a strand of the white substance from his penis that I hadn't noticed splattered onto my face. I didn't turn to face him, afraid the tears would fall out. Suddenly, without warning, I felt Fang fall forward onto me. All of his weight fell onto me, his knees no longer up, but now standing up on either side of my lap. My head that'd been turned over my right shoulder, looking away from him, turned to face the front now. I could hear his soft breathing near my ear, his head on my left shoulder. His breathing wasn't harsh and unfocused anymore, he had cooled down, I thought to myself, feeling relieved. I stared at the white-tiled wall of the boy's bathroom that he had been sitting against a moment ago. Slowly, I felt his arms slide around me. His head was tucked into the crook of my neck. I shivered as I felt his lips and the contour of his nose press tightly into my neck. His breathing was still uneven.
"Max.." he quietly whispered into my ear, "Hold me.. for just.. a second.. just.. stay like this.." he said softly in between breaths. I shivered slightly again as I felt his cool breath travel into my left ear. I gently slid my arms up and around his lower back. We sat like that for a while, holding each other tightly against one another on the cold white tiled floor of the bathroom. I felt the tremors throughout his upper body wrack through him. He held me tightly, as if transferring the tremors out through me. We shook together. I closed my eyes. He couldn't see the tears that I had been willing to stay in spill out unashamedly. I rubbed his mid back gently as I felt the tears stream down my face, hugging his unclothed, trembling body tighter to me.
Gradually, his breathing slowed. It became more even. The tremors in his torso halted. We stayed like that for a moment longer, just reveling in the feeling of one other so close to each other. Fang had always been touchy about physical contact...but I guess that thats just what the flock had simply assumed from his behavior.
Fang let go of me. His head leaned back, leaving my neck feeling empty and cold. He leaned forward a bit, his face close to my own. I could feel his breath on my face. Sliding both of his hands up either sides of neck to my cup my jaw, his dark eyes searched for something particular in my own brown ones. He searched my face, but eventually came back up to my eyes again. His face was masked of all emotion yet again.
"Thank you, Max," he said to me in a calm, normal voice.
I looked at him again. I frowned.
"Fang.. you need to tell me when somethings wrong with you.. so that I can help you." Fang stared at me for a moment longer, searching my face and then let go, looking away. He stood up and swiftly pulled his pants and briefs up to his hips. Stepping around me, he turned away. I twisted around to look at his back as he was doing his belt buckle. I stood up, facing his back.
"Fang, you need to tell me," I told him in a solid, stern, no-joking, voice. Leader Max was back. Fang turned around to look at me. His pants were on and his belt buckled, but his shirt was still downstairs. He looked at me seriously, his eyes were asking me to place myself in his situation. I frowned even deeper.
"I know you don't want to.. but you have to." I said to him. He continued to look at me, his face expressionless. My eyes traveled down to his pelvic region, to his crotch. He watched my gaze travel down.
"Okay," he said quietly. His face was unreadable, but I knew that he was not happy to consent. He turned around and walked out of the bathroom into the carpeted hallway.
Feeling completely drained, I sat back down on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, my knees jutting up. Leaning down, I massaged my forehead for the eightieth time today, sighing quietly.
Thanks for all the reviews guys! You guys made me so happy that I wrote another lemon!
Ahh.. remember, its not that I'm putting up an ultimatum.. its just that REVIEWS make me A HAPPY AUTHOR.
HAPPY AUTHORS mean HAPPY WRITING! =D
HAPPY WRITING means WRITING!!!
lol.. okay, thats enough, I should stop. Anywho..
Many of you have been asking me to "make the same thing happen to max!!"
but I've got alot planned for this story (its going to be thick, and heated, angsty and kinky haha), but see the thing is
at the moment (because don't worry, the story will definitely progress) the main plot is that Fang is getting erections and a) not only does not know what they are but b) he doesnt not know what to do with them. c) Max is very worried for him, because she doesnt know what they are either
REMEMBER that they've never had anything like Sex Ed. Fang doesn't know about jerking off, but as you can see, he's getting the idea.. But they still don't know what all that stuff means.
Anyhow, addressing the issue about the same thing happening to max. Well, girls don't really get erections.. It's not like, an immediate physical problem.. She can't get all sweaty and pained over being sheerly horny, now can she? Fang can, because erections are something more physical, and it affects his day-to-day life more than Max. Also, testosterone has alot more potential drive than estrogen does.
And the plot of this story is not that Max and the flock are going through heat.. Its that they simply don't know societal norms. They don't know what erections are, and that it is not appropriate for 13-year-olds to be engaging in sexual activity. (somehow the fact that they dont know, driven by instincts and neccesity, pure passion and pain, is the concept i'm driven by).
HMMM.. don't worry. This story is rated M for a reason. Things will definately go far.. This story will be very elaborate. =)