WL's Prompts- Short Stories - 8. Prompt 169-Sheltering my Bully

@Cole Matthews Inspired this, but I took a different direction with the villain in the story. The most interesting villains are people, who were once our friends. Magneto and Xavier from X-Men, Sasuke and Naruto, and so on.
I also wanted to do some Dom/sub writing, so there's a sexy scene
 

Throughout high school, I wish Spike would stop being such an asshole. Like the destruction of my homework, the surprise nipple twists, and spit in my school lunch was getting tedious every day. Worst of all, no one tries to stop him, because everyone in our town thinks I deserve it for what I did to him.

I wish we could rewind to middle school when Spike and I were best friends. We had been that way since we met in kindergarten and shared his graham crackers box. We liked the same things, like Pokémon and Ben 10, like most kids. Of course, there was something else that I thought we both might like, slashing cute boys together. Spike started it by saying he thought Ben and Kevin would make more sense as a couple than Gwen and Kevin. He got me started down the road of finding online slash stories and realizing I was into boys. Throughout middle school, we joked about other cartoon boys, who we thought could be better couples than how the shows depicted them. I thought it was as good as his coming out to me. We had long walks around the neighborhood playgrounds, shared his packets of Cheez-It, and awkwardly held hands sometimes when it was kind of cold. Everything was great and I thought we were ready for the next step by making it official for high school. At our middle school graduation, I kissed him on the mouth. I thought he returned the kiss, I thought he wanted to be with me the way I did with him. However, I never saw him that summer or our freshman year. During the first year of high school, I was left to face all the homophobes alone, but none of them hurt me physically. Then, when I saw him in our sophomore year, he was different. He went by his birth name Spartacus Pike, had built up muscle, got into basketball, and was a complete asshole to me.

Part of me wondered if he was in the closet at first, but after he broke my ribs and left arm, I stopped caring about why he became the way he was. He became violent with me whenever I brought up our past, so I tried to avoid talking about that stuff. I also heard rumors in town about him from time to time, like he was caught by Mr. Johnson in his daughter’s bed after the basketball team won the state championship. By our senior year, he had become the golden boy and I had become the dumb fag, who had lusted after him. With all the hate and pressure, I had thought about just offing myself, but I didn’t want to give Spike the satisfaction. Instead, I would sneak a bottle of my stepdad’s vodka from time to time and try to escape my living hell.

Right before Christmas break, I sneak down to my secret hiding place in the school’s sub-basement after the last basketball game of the year. I knew that the janitors would be too busy to notice that someone had snuck in there while trying to clean up before their long vacation. I think the bomb shelter was supposed to be the town’s bomb shelter from the 1980s since it was big and filled with tons of old cots, blankets, bottled water, propane tanks, and bags of instant oatmeal. No one ever comes down there anymore except a few janitors, who use it for storage. I spent a few holidays alone down here away from my stepdad, who didn’t give a fuck about me since my mom died during my freshman year of high school. I had a little corner with blankets, a small camping burner, and a few old books to keep me company.

However, in my senior year, I am not alone down here. Most of the guys would have driven their cars or taken the school bus home, but Spike stalked me. He is still wearing his basketball Jersey, cutoff shirt, and shorts, so I guessed he must have seen me come down after the game.

Slightly buzzed by the vodka that I had drank before his arrival, I slur a question, “What (hiccup) are you doing here?”

He eyes my surrounding, “Like, are you homeless now fag?”

Spike has never seen me drunk; he hasn’t heard me uninhibited. Right now, he will see both, because I don’t care what will happen to me.

“You call me a fag, like you’re the biggest fag in this room. Look at you in your basketball gear in the middle of December, why are you stalking me instead of going home?”

He ran up to me and punched me in the gut, but I was numb to the pain.

I continue to chide him, “Yeah, punches are all you can answer with. Why don’t I make this more fun for you,” I strip off my sweater, pants, and briefs in quick succession, “Here I am, all naked and exposed for your punches and kicks. Maybe, you’ll get turned on with the skin contact.”

He freezes at the sight of my nudity, then runs off towards the door. A feeling of exhilaration and triumph surges through my body. I scared him off after one punch. That had never happened in the last three years between us. However, my moment of excitement ends when he returns with panic.

“The door is locked, tell me how to get out of here fag!” he yells at me.

I grin at his panic, “No way out, Spike, my fellow fag. You are trapped over Christmas break with me. I wonder what people will think about that. Ha! Ha! You could always kill me, but then you are stuck with a rotting corpse over Christmas break.”

“Fuck you, stop calling me a fag.”

Naked with my pants at my ankles, I jump up and down with stupid glee, “You finally feeling what I felt for all these years because I made the stupid mistake of kissing someone, I thought liked me, too.”

Spike draws his hand back for another punch, but upon seeing me still naked, he steps back.

“Shut up, Nate. I can’t be that. I can’t be gay.”

Seeing him soften at the first mention of my name in years, I knew I had struck a chord.

With an advantage and lack of inhibition, I waddle over to Spike, “You want to be gay for me, don’t you? Golden boy basketball star Spartacus Pike is a fag, everyone.”

“Shut up, Nate. Just shut up,” Spike retreats backward trying to avoid me as I waddle up to him in my drunken state.

Everything that has been building in me over the years could come out, “I thought you wanted to be my boyfriend. I thought we had something special. Then, you ghosted me over the summer before high school, when my mom went to the hospital. When she died, my stepdad blamed me, because I had revealed my perversion. I had no one to turn to. Then, when you came back, you bullied me. You were supposed to be the person I could depend on. I am barely passing classes now with a C average because you keep destroying my homework and scaring me away from the library for research. No college will accept me, even if I could get the money for tuition. You fucked up my life.”

Tears welled in his eyes, “I can’t show you any love, because…. Lord make me clean, Lord make me clean.”

I got in his face and licked the tears on his face, “You want to get clean; I’ll give back all the spit in the school lunches over the years. You know I was always poor; it’s why I appreciated all the snacks you shared with me. After my mom died, I only have one meal a day from school, because my stepdad doesn’t care about the fag in his house.”

Spike cries out openly, “O Lord, in wrath, remember mercy, we pray. And lead us not into temptation. The roots of sin lie deep within us, so we ask that You help us to watch and pray.”

I laugh at his prayers as my nudity and licks have caused a response with his tenting shorts, I grab his hardon, “Well, Spike look at what your prayers have delivered. Seems like God can’t keep it down. You could fight me off right now, could beat me up, and could kill me on the spot. You aren’t doing that. You like what I am doing to you. You like that I am reminding you of your true self. So why don’t you continue to cry, continue to hate me, because deep down inside I now know you want me. You are a hypocrite, who can’t live with the truth and must attack what you are through me.”

As I lick his face and jacked his cock, Spike begins to moan, “Nate, I can’t….no!”

A sticky wet spot forms around his shorts as Spike unravels in front of me. I don’t know how long I continued to lick and caress his sticky shorts, but at some point, I started feeling cold and had to pull up my underwear and pants. As I regain some consciousness, Spike is broken and mumbling to himself in a corner of the room. I wrap him in a blanket to keep him warm. I don’t know why I took pity on him instead of letting him freeze with the below-freezing temperatures and lack of heating in the old bomb shelter. After taking care of him, I wrap myself in blankets on my cot.

In the morning, I wake to the feeling of a heavy feeling in my head and a heavy body on my back. Memories of what I did last night flooded my mind.

I turn to Spike, who is staring at me with an expression that I have never seen before. It is not anger, joy, or lust as I had witnessed all of those. In retrospect, I can now call it the look of acceptance.

He whispers to me, “I went to a place to fix people like us. My parents spent a lot of money to save me. In that place, they taught us a lot of words and things. I learned to play basketball there to help keep my mind focused. I was there for over a year.”

That answered several of my questions, but not all of them.

“Why did you bully me? Wouldn’t it have been better to avoid me?”

He kissed my nose, “I loved you, loved taking care of you, loved being your friend, and would have loved to be your boyfriend. To be a man, I was taught to never give care, give affection, and offer first as those are things women are supposed to do. I had to prove to my parents, instructors, and our sponsoring pastor that I could be a man. I did that by playing basketball, I did that by dating girls, and…. I did that by bullying you.”

He caresses the area around my gut he punched last night, I squeal, “Stop, it hurts,” he stops.

“Sorry, I guess I am messed up.”

In response, I smack his ass, causing him to wince, “You’re not the only one who can dish out the pain.”

He nods, “Can I be the one to give you pleasure, Nate? I don’t think I can be a man like what people expect me to be after last night.”

I could have been kind, understanding, or compassionate towards Spike’s situation. However, after so many years of bullying, I could not hide my own need to return the bullying that he gave me.

“Get on your knees, Spike. We got two weeks in here. You will be a proper fag by the time everyone comes back.”

I taught him how to give a blowjob on Christmas, stretched his ass with rimming until New Year's Eve, and fucked him by midnight on New Year's Day. By the time we left the bomb shelter, our relationship had returned to what it was before high school. His parents were not happy when he came out with me as his boyfriend, nor that he choose to run off with me instead of accepting one of the many scholarships he got for one of the big colleges. The next few years were hard, Spike and I worked as waiters while completing community college and trade school respectively. However, whenever I felt unhappy, he would let me bully him. We never needed chains, leather, or whips; it was just who we were.