The List - 6. Chapter 6

At the end of the day, Parker met me at my locker. Without fanfare he helped me get my bag settled; it could be a challenge with the crutches, but he never said anything like 'Here, let me get that' or similar words along those lines. He just did it, which is one thing I appreciated about his direct nature-as well as his unlimited store of altruism, at least toward me. Another thing I liked was his his not looking for praise. He just did it because it was me and he wanted to help me.

Of course, his nature was also mischievous and I never knew exactly what would happen when he said 'come with me, it'll be fun', which is what he said to me that day. Because it was Parker, I didn't really care what it was, I just went with him. That will get me in real trouble someday, I just know it. Of course, that won't stop me.

So I followed him as he walked through the halls of the school. It was odd being in school after everyone left. In a sense it was like a home where people have moved out; the strange emptiness and lack of purpose and energy made the space more than the tiniest bit unsettling.

"Going to the fag club?"

It was amazing that a simple question could evoke so much emotion, and just from the tone if not the words. Smug loathing rolled in great waves from that one sentence and, irritated, I turned to see who was speaking.

"My friend doesn't like that word. I don't suppose you could just go somewhere and graze, could you?" Parker asked in a tone that approached kindness but stopped just short.

The girl scowled and then I recognized her. The scowl is what did it. Sheila Niven wore a perpetually constipated look and found issue with everyone and everything. Given that, I'd never really had any dealing with her, just seen the wreckage of her work from afar. And, of course, Parker was holding the red flag out for the bull.

"I don't care what he likes. Free country, free speech." She turned her malevolent gaze at me and deliberately said, "Fag."

"Yep, say what you want, but you aren't free of the consequences. Heifer."

Her head jerked back on her neck and she scowled hard at Parker. "What?"

"Which part confused you, my husky friend. Is that appropriate?" Parker asked aloud, directing his question to me. "Do girls have a husky section?"

"Hussy, maybe," I said.

"Shut up!" she said, loudly.

"I'm going to guess you don't like gay people," I said, meaning to tell her how little I cared about that but she actually hocked and spat on the floor. I'm not a huge fan of snot and spit to begin with, but that was vile.

"She's jealous," Parker said. Putting a hand on my shoulders he said, "Back off, he's mine. Go find your farmer and get milked."

I felt warm and slightly embarrassed at his declaration of ownership.

"Oh, hah. A cow joke. And pink boy thinks I'm not original," she said and somehow, without taking a step, seemed to loom.

"Really? 'Cause see, I'd figure pig jokes would be unoriginal. Elephants are so nice, I didn't want to disparage them," Parker said then paused and said very slowly, "disparage means to say mean things about them."

"Come on," I said, "Where are we going anyway?"

"Right here," he said, pointing to the open doorway and the host of faces who could hear our exchange and appeared to be raptly at attention.

"Where is here, exactly?"

"It's fag club!" Sheila sneered.

"Yep," Parker said. "And you can't have him, so stop looking at him, Sheila-pottamus."

I snickered as Parker turned me toward the door. Sheila, however, just didn't seem to want to stop.

"Run along to your fag friends, you fucking queers." Her words were filled with such venom, such anger that they almost demanded the same reaction. Why she wanted to stand and seethe with such deep, unexplained hatred, mystified me. However, Parker had taught me that one doesn't always have to be violent to fight back.

"You're right," I said to him, conscious of my audience behind and in front and the pregnant air surrounding us. Reaching over I placed my hand in the back pocket of Parker's jeans and gave a little squeeze. "Sheila? Sorry, not sorry, but this ass is all mine. Not that you aren't the biggest ass I've ever seen, but I prefer this one. Fuck off."

Parker had jumped when I squeezed his butt, but snickered and stoically stepped forward and we awkwardly walked out of her sight and into the room with my hand in his back pocket and the crutch dangling between us, held in place by how close we were together.

"Okay. You can let go of my butt, now," Parker said.

I looked at him and smiled slightly.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Really?"

"What if she pokes her head in, Parker? We have to keep up the charade, right?"

He flashed me a look that said I was full of shit and he knew it. "Please. I bet you didn't even care about her, you just wanted an excuse to squeeze my butt in public."

I was about to retort when I realized that the eyes that had taken in our exchange in the hallway were glued to us. Just then Vice-Principal Singh who, with a curt, "Hands to yourselves, gentlemen," made me yank my hand back as if scalded.

Embarrassed, I hobbled to a seat and Parker settled in next to me, snickering at my red face. He could care less that a room full of people saw me grabbing his ass, only that I was embarrassed, and that amused him. The meeting began and we became just another couple in the crowd, so to speak. Zane had stood up and was addressing the gathering, but Parker leaned over to whisper in my ear. Zane speaking or Parker whispering? Yeah, no contest which to listen to.

"Not all these girls can be lesbians. Women are more supportive of gay rights than males, I think, so you think I can fool one of these girls into thinking I'm sensitive?"

"Sure," I whispered back. "Right up until you open your mouth."

~TL~

By contrast Thursday was much nicer. In History, Clint was engaged in a spirited discussion with Mr. Hathaway about his choice of a historical figure. I guess Clint liked to eat and wanted to do a visual demonstration, like cooking in class, versus writing his report on Emeril Lagasse, the chef. Mr. Hathaway told him that cooking in class would be impossible due to potential fire hazard, which Clint hotly debated, claiming he'd never set anything on fire.

He then, quietly, admitted it had been only the one time and the microwave was old. I snorted and covered my mouth, but it was impossible to not hear me and a few others near Clint, laughing. He turned and chuckled at us but quickly went back to debating the teacher.

I'll give Mr. Hathaway this much, he's into getting us to learn how we learn, not how he thinks we should. I was surprised he told Clint to profile someone older, like Julia Child and the impact she had versus a relative newcomer whose impact had been far, far less. Then, he instructed Clint to make something from one of her recipes to bring to class-something that could be divided up so everyone got a small taste. Clint wasn't entirely happy that he'd still have to write up something to accompany the dish, but it would be a smaller report than he would have had to do, before.

I wasn't sure I wanted to taste whatever Clint made, though I thought I'd like to read his report because it was sure to be either awful or entertaining.

Then in English, Travis was growling about not being able to find his textbook. We were reading aloud and answering questions about various selections and our teacher was kind of a bitch about docking you points for not being prepared-and your textbook was required in order to be prepared. Inevitably, she called on him-probably because he's a very good student-and before he could tell her he didn't have his book I called out to him, softly.

He glanced back, caught between confessing and wondering who was talking to him. I flipped him my book and he, with a profoundly grateful expression, opened it and promptly answered the question. I'm sure the old witch saw what happened, but I'm also equally sure Travis was cut some slack for being the student he normally is.

After class he paused in front of me before we left the room, once more pushing his glasses up in an impossibly cute way, and said, "Thanks for helping me. I don't know what happened to my book! I brought it to my last class because Angie and I are in it together and I can walk her to her next class-which is next door. But, somehow, it disappeared."

He shook his head in bewilderment and I thought he was just too cute for words. He bit his lip, which caused me heart palpitations and then he said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to just...go on like that."

"No problem," I said with a smile. "I was glad to help you. Help out. Yeah, no problem."

"See you around," he said and headed out, likely already thinking about where he may have left his book.

After school, Parker's dad picked us up and took us out to a former Border's Books, which was rented out once a year to a Halloween costume chain. Parker, as it happens, was intent on getting us skeleton costumes-he'd ordered a Cerberus one online already. I dawdled as we looked, having fun as Parker would talk about one costume versus another. Who knew there were so many skeleton costumes? However, I spotted a the one that I decided right then would be the ones we'd get.

The costume was a black bodysuit with the bones done in some sort of glow in the dark paint or something similar. I didn't care about that, I was just thinking of hanging out with Parker with him in a skin tight outfit.

"Ha. No," Parker said when I pointed it out. "I know what you're up to. You just want to see my ass in these things. Isn't seeing me in my underwear enough for your horny ass?" He held up the costume and curled his lip.

"You can't blame me, your boxers are way too loose." He flashed me an irritated look and I laughed at him, enjoying getting to be the instigator between us for once. "By the way, Parks, I don't think you're supposed to wear underwear under that costume...So...."

He lifted an eyebrow at me but couldn't maintain his scowl as I laughed. "Shut up, Shane," he muttered. Then he pulled two of them off the shelf and I gave him the money from my dad toward the costumes. He shook his head and muttered the whole way up to the counter, which was fucking adorable, but he bought them anyway.

I called my dad and asked him if Parker could stay over. He agreed, since Friday was an in-service day and the school would be closed. We went back to Parker's place and ate dinner with his parents before gathering his stuff and walking to my house. His dad offered to drive us, but I enjoyed the time walking with Parker as he idly skated along.

I told him about Clint's project and he howled with laughter and begged me to record it as people sampled his food. I mentioned Travis losing his book and he got a speculative look on his face.

"What?" I asked.

"Probably nothing," he said, his voice thoughtful. It's just...I had math with that Angie chick? The one with the nice tits?"

"You think that's going to jog my memory? Her tits? Really?"

Parker shrugged and grinned at me. "I like to remember her that way."

"She's sort of evil, but why did you bring her up? I mean, besides to mention her tits?"

"Oh, right," he said, popping the back of his board and catching it deftly in his hand. "I didn't think much of it, you just reminded me. When I saw her in math class she had three books."

"It's school," I deadpanned. "They have books there, Parks."

"Shut up," he said, giving me a gentle, playful push. "She had her math book and two English books. That's what I thought was weird. We only get one textbook for each class."

I thought about that as I turned over her actions on Monday, placing Travis and I together once she found out he was on my list. What was she up to?

"I know that look," Parker said, putting his hand on the doorknob, but not opening the door. "What?"

I paused and furrowed my brow. "It doesn't really make sense. Remember when you were being a dick in the library the other day?"

He didn't even challenge the statement. "So?"

"Angie. She put her boyfriend between her and me. Introduced us, even. It was kind of bizarre."

His brow furrowed as well. "You think we could try and break them up?"

"Parks! No!" I said and frowned at him. "Have a little respect for someone's relationship, huh?"

"Well, if he's not taking care of her," he said and opened the door.

"That's bullshit," I told him. "That's what cheaters use to justify acting like asses."

"What's going on, guys?" my dad asked and we both blundered about, not really sure how to answer him. Parker finally managed to ask if my dad thought it was okay to break a couple up based on the idea that if they weren't putting the appropriate effort in to remain a couple, because if they were then their partner couldn't be lured away.

Leaning against the counter, my dad spoke in a low, deadly serious voice. "I think if someone hit on my wife, knowing she were married, I'd gut shoot him and let him die on the sidewalk."

We sobered quickly and excused ourselves to my room. Parker looked a little pale and I may have mirrored him.

We hung around, debating what was going on with respect to Travis and Angie. "Oh, you know what? Ty is off my list."

"Really? Is he dating someone?"

I related to him how he'd been a dick to me in class and Parker nodded. "Yeah, screw him. I mean, you know, in terms of your list. No, wait, you haven't screwed him..."

"Ha. Ha. Shut up, Parks," I told him.

We played around, pushing and wrestling a little, though I was clearly outmatched right then. My ankle was better, but still not very tolerant of weight being put on it. When it was getting close to time for bed we brushed and dressed down in my room. Parker, per usual, was in just his underwear and was sitting in the middle of my bed, which is full-sized compared to his single. Perhaps because I was at home, perhaps because I was so comfortable with Parker. or maybe just because I figured I'd enjoy it, I also dressed down to my underwear.

"You look hot, sitting on my bed," I teased him and he struck a pose quickly before laughing. I shuffled over to my dresser to plug in my phone, but was struck by a decidedly wicked idea. I turned around and Parker was fiddling with the sheet and looking over at my curtains. Slowly I lifted the phone and snapped a picture of him. He was alerted, of course, by the sound of the camera feature.

"No fair. Don't sell that online or anything," he groused.

I chuckled, relieved he wasn't upset by my foolish move, and I plugged my phone in to charge.

"Is there a plug behind this nightstand?" he asked, gesturing with his chin at the nightstand nearest him.

"No. That lamp works on pixie dust," I said, teasing him.

"Fairy dust you mean," he said, snickering. I climbed onto the bed and he climbed out of bed and rooted around in his bag, finally emerging with a power cord. He leaned over as if to plug it in, but pulled back suddenly, rolled next to me on the bed and bumped his shoulder into mine and held the phone out for a selfie.

"Smile, Shane," he said and we mugged for his camera. He looked at it and, satisfied, he plugged it in and crossed the room to turn off the light before picking his way back to his side of the bed.

Unlike Parker's room, I didn't have blackout curtains so it wasn't nearly as dark. In fact my dad had a motion sensitive light on the back patio and it seemed things like, I don't know, mosquitoes maybe, would turn it on. As a result I frequently had some light filtering around my curtains, plenty enough to see by.

"Shit. Got a blanket we can tack up or something? That light is annoying and is going to wake us up really early."

I thought for a moment and then said, "On your side of the bed there's a drawer underneath. I think there's a lightweight blanket in there."

He scrambled off the bed as I climbed on and got myself settled in. He pulled a thin blanket out and spent a few minutes tucking it around the curtain rod and spreading it out until he was happy with the light level-which is to say near pitch black.

The bed squeaked as he climbed back in and slipped under the covers. He scooted toward the center and grunted.

"Why are you over on the edge of the bed?"

"I usually sleep on one side," I told him. His hands flailed about for a moment and then he found my arm, latched on and pulled me toward the center of the bed. I was caught between laughing and growling at him for yanking me all over. Then he made light touches down my leg so he could find the pillows I'd used to elevate my ankle and he lifted my leg by the calf and got my ankle settled in place, then pulled the blanket around so that I was covered but my ankle wasn't.

"You still need to elevate this thing?" he asked as he patted my leg, his job done, and he moved to lie back down.

"I don't know. I know it's supposed to help with swelling so I've been keeping it up when I can."

Parker slipped back under the cover and placed the side of his knee over mine and rested his head on my shoulder. "Shit," he said as he sat up. "Is my leg putting pressure on your ankle? I'm usually on the other side."

"Yeah, a little," I admitted. I shifted a bit and he climbed over me, then cuddled into me from the other side and I enjoyed having his face on my bare skin as much as I thought I would. It caused a near instant woody. I let my hand stroke the skin of his back and he nestled against me with a contented sigh.

"Your boyfriend won't like that I do this with you, you know."

"He'll have to," I said as I continued my lazy hand motion.

"I'm serious," he said, his voice dropping. "What boyfriend is going to put up with some guy cuddling his boyfriend? Especially the way we do?"

"Well," I said, drawing the word out. "First I'd have to actually have a guy that wants to date me. Second, Parks, I promise to tell him very simply that my straight best friend and I cuddle when we hang out sometimes and that it's part of the package."

His fingertips dragged across my stomach and settled in the soft flesh of my side and he pulled slightly. "I wish I was gay, sometimes."

I paused my stroking of his skin. "You do?"

"Yeah." He paused and sighed, his warm breath blowing across my chest. "I can be myself with you. I can do this," he squeezed me for emphasis, "and you don't think I'm some straight guy trying to screw with your head. You get me, for some reason."

I resumed stroking his skin and waited for him to continue.

"If I was gay...well, I guess I hope I can find a girlfriend who's a lot like you, but with bigger tits and no dick."

"That...almost made sense!" I chuckled and he did too. "Does the idea of a guy turn you off that much?"

"No," he admitted after a brief silence. "I've thought about it a lot since we started hanging out. My big problem is I don't want to fool around, with me knowing that's what it is, and have you feel like it's more. I don't want to skull-fuck you."

"Parks?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. Seriously love you."

His body tightened up but I kept my hand moving slowly on his back. "You're the best friend anyone could ever have. I won't let anything change that."

I felt him relax into me and resume breathing normally. For a time all there was in the world was the sound of his gentle breathing, the air moving on my skin. The only feeling was his warm body pressed to me and the steady ache of my dick. Outside, a cricket started up its mating chirp and the breeze sighed past the window, stirring a few leaves which rustled against the house. I closed my eyes and spread my hand flat on Parker's back, feeling the heat of his skin. I sighed and my muscles started to relax, slowly readying themselves for sleep. Even my dick started to subside, leaving a wet mark on my underwear as the only evidence of my excitement.

Parker shifted, his hand moving slowly from my side and settling on my pec. Almost like a spasm his fingers twitched, lightly squeezing and then his hand shifted slightly, and a finger settled on my nipple. I opened my eyes, unable to see much of anything. My heart rate picked up, though, as his finger began to circle my nipple and my dick began to reinflate.

"Parks?"

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

He was silent for a moment and then said, "Just...trying something out."

I spread my fingers out on his back again as he continued to swirl his finger idly around my nipple and my dick was right back to achingly hard. Parker shifted his head, and in so doing shifted his waist toward me and I was suddenly aware of his erection pressing into my hip. His lips less than an inch from my ear, he whispered, "Can you really promise to be my friend, no matter what? Best friends?"

I sighed with relief. "I stood up for you without knowing, at first, that it was you. You stood in front of a dog to protect me, not knowing it was behind an invisible fence and not vicious," I said, ticking off the major points in a whispered voice.

"I don't know why you think I'm going to walk away from you. Actually, why do you worry about that so much?"

He stayed silent, his gentle breath crossing my ear and his finger continuing its maddening stroke and making my dick feel like it was going to spontaneously explode. I know the front of my underwear felt like a swamp at this point.

"I had a best friend in third and fourth grade. I mean, we were tight. We were always together, we played everything-Lego's, built forts, rode bikes and camped in each other's yards...even kissed the same girl." He paused, his finger continuing its trek and he shifted a little, driving his erection harder against my hip.

"He was the best. I thought we'd be unbreakable. I mean, I guess everyone does at that point, right? The kind of friend you have before you hit puberty and discover jacking off is way different than the friendships you have when you're still kind of innocent."

I nodded, my hair rustling against the fabric of the pillowcase. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It feels like things are simpler, more black and white back then."

"Exactly. It's why I don't trust a lot of people who still think things are simple. One philosophy or dogma just doesn't cover everything and really simple folks seem to think it does. If you don't realize the world is more complex than one ideology, one religion or one philosophy...I don't have much use for that kind of person."

"What happened to your friend, Parks?" I asked gently.

He sniffed. Not like he was going to cry or get emotional, just...preparation, maybe. I don't know. "It was the first week of fifth grade. The Glindmeyer Academy had just shut down, do you remember that?"

"Yeah," I said, letting my words drag as I dredged up the memory. "Private school, some kind of scandal, right?"

He shrugged against me. "Yeah, something like that. Anyway, my friend meets this new girl who transferred in...Tiffany Fontana. You remember her?"

"Vaguely," I replied. As he spoke my body relaxed, though I was still rigid because I could feel his arousal pressed into me; I guess my body realized nothing was imminent at the moment, and was going into 'pause' mode.

"She moved away last summer. Anyway," he said, "he fell in love. All of a sudden he didn't have time to climb trees or play video games. He had no time to go to the movies or any of that. It was how I figured out how fragile things like friendships are. I went from being ironclad one day to not having a friend. I told you how a lot of other kids and parents felt about me because of Steve, and it wasn't long before my old friend wised up to that and figured out I was undesirable as far as being cool. So, he dumped me as a friend."

I cleared my throat. "That sucks."

"It did," he confirmed. "Not that it took him very long to become a total douche and I thought, maybe, I was lucky he'd dumped me. But my point is, things change. You might tell me that you love me no matter what. But if I make out with you, will you think maybe we should date? If I push my hand down a little and jerk you off, will you want to be romantic with me? You might say no, right now, while we're here in the dark. But tomorrow morning are you going to look at me and think there must be a way to make us boyfriends?"

I sighed. "That's a fair question," I said, grinding my teeth as I did. "I know you're straight, or I know you tell me that. I'm not sure any straight guy I know would have kissed me or would cuddle me in his underwear or play with my nipple and grind his cock into me while he tells me he's straight, either." I paused and pulled him to me slightly and continued, "But it doesn't really matter if you're straight or not. I love you anyway. And yes, you're right...if we fooled around, I might try to make it more of a...boyfriend thing."

"That's what worries me," he said. "Because...I'd do it. Try to be a..boyfriend, I mean."

I closed my eyes. "But why would you do it, Parks?"

He stayed silent for a moment and I brought my hand up to still his incessant circling of my nipple. For a minute I thought he wouldn't respond, but he moved his hand and pulled me slightly to him, just with his fingertips.

"Because I love you, too. I'm not gay, I promise I'm really not. I'm not trying to confuse the situation, not on purpose. But..." he hesitated and sighed deeply. "Part of it would be for the same reason I kissed you. It would be special to you, mean something important."

"Yeah, it would," I agreed. "But would it be important to you?"

A pause filled the room, the darkness taking on pressure as I waited for him to reply. Finally he said, "Yeah. It would."

I sighed and said, "You said part of it would be that. What's the other part?"

"Part...because I'm...a little curious," he admitted. "Not curious enough to risk you, but curious."

I thought about that for a minute, lying in the dark with a wonderful boy pressed close to me. I wondered about my ability to love him emotionally and physically and if I could handle us not being a couple if such a thing came to pass as an intimate night with him. As I turned that over another thought, the question of how Curtis and Maria came to be a couple, crossed my mind like a shooting star.

"Parks?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you have anything to do with Curtis and Maria getting together?"

He swallowed. I knew it because I felt his jaw move on my shoulder. "Yes," he whispered.

Softly I asked, "Why?"

He hesitated and then explained, "I told myself I was just going to see if he might be open to the idea of dating you. But...if you want me to be honest," he said and let out a sigh, "and to be fair, I don't want to lie to you. Not ever. I was glad when he said he liked Maria. I hinted to her that Curtis was into her and she liked that idea a lot. I was relieved. Curtis wasn't going to take you away from me.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry, Parks?"

"Because!" he said, flailing a bit. "How are you going to get a boyfriend if I'm trying to keep you to myself? I know what happens when people date. They forget about everyone else-but Shane, you're all I've got."

I thought about that for a minute. "What about if you get a girlfriend?"

He snorted. "No one wants to date me."

I snorted right back. "I mean it. It can happen. Suppose one of the girls on your list wanted to go out. What would you do?"

He paused for a long moment. "Well. I guess I'd want to try going on a date," he admitted.

"And if you really clicked?"

"I'd want to see her more," he said morosely. "I know what you're getting at."

"Parks," I said softly. "If I went out on a date Friday night, I'd want to hang out with you Saturday morning or afternoon. I'd want you to know my boyfriend and double date. I'm not letting you go, Parks."

He coughed and shifted, pressing to me anew. He wasn't as hard as he had been, and neither was I with him not being able to manipulate my nipple. I then seized on an idea, though.

"Hey, all we've been talking about is what if you did something to me, like jerking me off. What about if I grabbed your dick?" I said, challenging him.

"Shane," he said, almost a whine in his voice. "What about the rest of what I said? I'm not gay. I might be a little curious and I know part of why I'd do it was just for you. What about that?"

I thought about that seriously. "Okay, I'll tell you as honestly as I can, but I'm kind of thinking out loud," I said to him and moved my hand from its perch over his hand and let my fingers trace a path up the skin of his forearm.

"I love you, Parks. If I jerk you off, will I love you more? I think I'll just love you a little differently. As far as romance goes...well, I think we have a little bromance going on as it is. Will I get jealous when you date a girl? Because I know you will. I might, but being honest, Parks, I might get jelly if you were dating already.

"You get my blood racing, my heart pumping and my dick hard," I told him and he snorted a laugh. I shook him but chuckled in the dark as I continued, "If you give me the choice of fooling around with you, as long as you wouldn't be weird the next day and stop being my friend, I'm going to say yes to that every time."

"Shane..." he said softly.

"I know. You're straight. Mostly." I sighed, "I've accepted from the start you won't be my boyfriend, Parks. Best friend means a lot, though. I'm not going to try and make you do something you don't want to if that worries you too much. I like this: the cuddling, the soft touches. I'm okay with just that if you are."

He sighed. "But if we do more...is that okay, too? I don't want to mess with your feelings."

I shrugged. "You mess up my feelings a lot anyway, but in a good way. I feel good whenever I'm with you. You're good for me. I hope I'm good for you, too."

He levered himself up and I could just see the dark outline of his head as he hovered over me. His knee pushed up my thigh, bunching the fabric of my underwear under my balls and his hand moved from my chest to the bed, supporting himself as, I imagined, he looked down on me in the dark. Or tried, since it was...dark. His hips pushed forward, and his dick began to grow hard against my hip. I jumped as his lips brushed mine, his breath washing over my face.

"This...might not be a one-time thing. As long as we're single." His statement was said in a tone that nearly made it a question, as if I might disagree.

His lips crashed into mine and I responded right away, digging my hands into his hair and kissing him back. In mere moments, his tongue probed out and I welcomed it as he shifted his body, his cock grinding onto the front of my hip and his hip putting glorious pressure on my dick. The make out was fierce and all-consuming and I gasped for air in between pushing our faces together again. Eventually he rolled back to his side and placed a restraining hand on my chest, stalling my attempt to follow him.

"Don't stop," I whined.

He let out an out-of-breath chuckle. "See? You knew I was going to kiss you. I think your tongue tickled my tonsils."

I snorted, "Your tongue was as long as a snake."

I could almost see him smile in the dark and I pushed up to try and kiss him some more, but his hand was insistent, holding me down.

"Parks!" I whined again and he chuckled in the dark. Then, with a final push on my chest, his hand drifted down my chest and across the smooth skin heading toward my belly button, making me shiver as goose bumps broke out all over my stomach. Without a pause he pulled on my waistband and I struggled to lift my butt so that they'd slide down easier. With a grunt he sat up and used both hands, the material pulling my hard dick out straight from my body and, once the waistband was past, slapping back down on my stomach.

I wasted no time pushing at his waistband and he laughed lightly, as did I, at my anxious desire to get him as naked as I was. With his underwear pushed down, and kicked off, I ran my hand up his thigh and tentatively cupped his balls. A sharp intake of breath and a small groan greeted my touch, and I reacted much the same way when his warm hand returned the gesture.

I turned a little, putting up with the ache in my ankle for doing so, and pulled his face toward mine as I moved my hand up to gently stroke his shaft. If I got another chance at this, I might take my time but right now my mind was dominated by the fact that I'd been hard for about a century and Parker was naked next to me. My best friend.

We kissed, but it was hard to do that and stroke with the jerking movements of our bodies. He ran his thumb over my dickhead, slick with pre cum and I shuddered under his touch. Breathing heavily I began to stroke him faster, keeping my grip light and endlessly turned on by the slickness of his own pre cum as it lubricated my movements. He moved closer and began to buck slightly and groaned down at me. Or was that me, groaning up at him?

He gasped suddenly and let out a guttural growl as his body tensed and he arched his back which moved him closer to me. His seed spilled across my stomach and I heard it hit the sheet as he covered me with hot spatters. His strokes on my dick had slowed as he came, and I slowly worked his leaking, sensitive shaft. Though he was spent, I enjoyed the feeling of his dick in my hand and so I chose not to relinquish my hold on him. Soon he began stroking me quickly, though, and leaned down to kiss me as he did so. I quickly reached my sticky end, coating my stomach again and dribbling all over his hand. I jerked under him as he slowly stroked me, as I had him, but my dick was so over sensitive I couldn't take it and pushed his hand away with a giggle.

"It's sensitive," I told him.

He flopped back and heaved a sigh. "Man. That was intense." His movement had caused me to lose my light grip and my hand ended up on the front of his hip and I contented myself with idly stroking his skin with my fingertips.

I groaned and said, "Intensely satisfying."

We panted in the dark, slowly catching our breath. I felt peaceful as I lay on top of the covers with both our spends cooling on my belly and the feeling of his weight next to me on the bed. Rather than feeling needy and desiring his touch to mollify me, I felt liberated and completely free. A mix of positive emotions flooded through me, not raging like a river breaching its banks but more like a stream that feeds a clear pool, slowly creating a tranquil paradise of cool, inviting, crystal clear water. I wasn't sure I'd ever want to move again.

"Shane," Parker whispered. "You have a towel in here or something?"

"No," I said and then chuckled.

"What's funny?"

"Usually," I said, snickering, "I use a Kleenex to wipe up with. But...I think this is more than a Kleenex can handle. I'm, like, flooded!"

The bed shook as I laughed with a hand over my mouth and he did something similar in the dark.

"Well, what do we do to clean up, then? "he asked, still snickering.

"If you go to the bathroom, on the right next to the sink there are washcloths. If you clean up, bring one back to me and I'll clean the worst before I go to the bathroom. Otherwise I'm going to leave a slime trail behind me." I descended into giggles again. I felt a breeze as a pillow was pulled from the bed and Parker buried his face to laugh, clearly a belly laugh. I clamped another hand over my mouth as it made me laugh harder.

All my shaking made the mess on my stomach unstable and a cold trail suddenly ran down my side and onto the bed.

"Ah, shit," I said, trying to cup the mess and move it back to my stomach.

"What?" he asked, still giggling.

"The cum," I said. "It's running off my stomach."

This set off another round of giggles and I smacked him with the back of my hand. "Next time we're coming all over you," I growled.

After laughing hard into his pillow again, and me shaking with laughter, he gathered himself and, with a chortle or two, crept out to the bathroom while I did my best to lie still and not soak the bed in our cum. I heard the water run and he was back a few minutes later with a warm, damp washcloth. I wiped up as best I could and he helped me get out of bed. I kicked off my underwear, gently with the hurt ankle, and limped to the bathroom. My ankle was taking a little pressure, now, and I could shuffle along if I had to. I admit I felt a little weird, hobbling along in the nude in the light coming from the bathroom with smears of cum all over my belly and my junk jiggling with my uneven gait.

Once in the bathroom I cleaned up properly. I looked up in the mirror, taking in my midnight black hair that was puffed up, my pale skin that was still a little flushed, and I couldn't help but smile. I'd just had sex with a great guy and I didn't feel conflicted about it nor did I suddenly feel as if I owned him or something. It was exciting and fulfilling and I hoped to do it again at some point. Most important, I felt a sense of wholeness. A completeness that I didn't even bother trying to understand.

I did not feel guilty. I did not feel...anything negative. I was, instead, elated. Flipping off the light, and leaving the reflection of my smile in the mirror, I hobbled back to my room.

The blanket was down off the windows and Parker was making the bed.

"What are you doing?" I asked, which was kind of dumb.

"I figured you had fresh sheets where you had that blanket stored," he said. "You spilled a lot of cum on the sheets and, I was tempted to make you sleep in the wet spot, but I thought I'd be nice."

"I spilled? I spilled? You came like a fire hose!" I said, and then I looked down for my underwear. Good luck with that.

"I can't help it," he snickered. "I was excited."

"I can't find my underwear," I said, sitting on the bed and pushing my foot around, hoping to stumble on them.

"Me either," he said as he started putting up the blanket again. "I blame you."

I sighed and shook my head as he finished blocking the light as best he could. I heard him feeling his way around until his hand touched me.

"Get in bed," he said. "I have to be on this side because of your ankle."

"But I can't find my underwear," I protested even as I moved to comply.

"They're probably wherever you hid mine," he said and I swatted at him. He snickered again, fixed the pillows under my ankle even though I could have done that, then pulled the sheet and blanket over us before cuddling in on my side. His thigh draped over mine and his dick and balls pressed against the side of my hip. I dropped my hand on his back and hugged him tight.

"You okay?" I asked.

"You know what? I am. I feel pretty good. You?"

"I agree," I said, chuckling. "You feel pretty good to me, too."

"Asshole. I'm serious."

"I know. I feel great. Totally happy right now."

"Seriously? You don't feel weird at all?"

"Not even a little," I said with a yawn. My dick twitched, knowing he was pressed against me, but even it was satisfied. In a conversational tone, though pitching my voice low, I said, "I still love you though, Parks. You're my best friend."

"I love you back," he said and snuggled close. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."