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    Arch Hunter
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Bus Boy - 1. Chapter 1

Bus Boy looking fucking sexy today. I can't help but stare.

To think I was cursing this day at the college, a few weeks back. I had to stay after classes to convince the professor that in fact, I did not deserve to get an F for my paper I spent the entire weekend working on. She’s a bitch and disliked me from Day One. I knew that was all she wanted - to see me on my knees begging and make a fool of myself in front of her. And that’s what she got. I knew I had the facts on my side and the paper deserved a B at the very least, but I wouldn’t get it without being humiliated. I spent 40 precious minutes of my life in her office and when she finally had her fun, she gave me a C and sent me away.

I felt the urge to get home, grab some beers and never return to that god-forsaken place ever again. I don’t think I was ever meant to be a student and if not for the pressure from my parents, I probably never would.

So, much later than usual, I got on the bus and noticed him for the first time.

I see hot boys every day, no biggie. He wasn't even the hottest one I saw that month. He was a few years younger than me, probably too young to attend college. I didn’t remember seeing him before, either.

I like to sit in the middle of the bus, facing the back. He sat right on the back. That way, I could look at him all the way home. Because as it turned out, he is getting off at the same stop as me and always takes the same bus. That's how I came up with his nickname, by the way. What's more - we are almost neighbors.

On that first time, being a gentleman, I let him through the bus door first to watch his slim ass as he walked. I was about to learn that he wore sports shorts and a sweatshirt every day and everywhere.

He is tight. Very slim but his legs have muscle. I still don't know what sports he's playing but he's doing them a lot. I sometimes see him three times a day when I walk my dog and he leaves his block with a sports bag and his trademark absent stare.

As I said, he is hot but not the hottest teen I've ever seen, by far. Yet, there is something about him that makes him look careless and uninterested, you know? And by extension - intriguing. Call me a psycho but when I realized we are practically neighbors... I started staying in the academic library late on purpose. That's right. I'm no longer looking for a job or switching to a different college. I'm fine where I am. In fact, I'm a good way towards getting a scholarship with the level of dedication I've been showing. As a side result, I do start seeing him more. Not every day. Sometimes, I don't see him the whole week and my soul weeps. But he always takes the same seat and I do too. I look at him a lot. He looks down at his phone and pays me no attention. Our eyes meet more than once, make no mistake. My heartbeat speeds up and my dick gets hard. But he just turns the other way and then looks back down to his phone.

You'd think I'd be smart enough to take a hint and leave him alone. You'd be wrong. I'm trying to figure out smart ways to get him to talk to me. He is a challenge. I'm convincing myself he's playing hard to get on purpose - to tease me and make me want to work to win him over. In reality, he seems faintly aware of my existence at best. Maybe I’m not bad-looking but I wouldn’t call myself very memorable.

Now he's holding his phone the way the teens do now to listen to Tik Toks or play voice messages from their friends - holding it horizontally, the lower side of the device to his ear. I do hope it's a Tik Tok and not moans of some fucking girl he's probably exchanging nudes with. He's totally old enough to be doing that. And if he is, then he does. I really want to think it's not the case but he's sitting with one foot on the seat, almost resting his chin on his knee, adjusting his dick through the fabric from time to time. He's fucking fondling himself and he doesn't care. It's the middle of the third lockdown here in Poland and the bus is almost empty. He's sitting there, 15 feet away from me and absentmindedly playing with his dick through his shorts. Listening to something making him horny while he's supposed to be looking at me! Or at the very least, at the doggie.

The doggie - Ares. My sweet, sweet, COVID puppy I adopted a few months ago. That's my new plan to get Bus Boy's attention. I didn’t have any classes today so I just decided to take the dog on a trip and enter the bus home at the right hour to sync with my boy. I nicked him Bus Boy in my mind and it became official when I told some of my gay friends about him. "How's it going with Bus Boy?" I would hear from them from time to time, or "got any new pictures of Bus Boy?" Yeah, I'm guilty. I've been secretly taking photos of Bus Boy and sending them to people. I couldn't stand being horny for him alone. I had to share him. And share him I did. It was becoming real, at least in my head.

Anyway, it seems like Bus Boy is way, way too old to be crazy about cute little doggies. I look down at Ares and he looks back. I give him my best disappointed look. You had one job, doggie! Luckily, it turns out I don't need the damn dog.

You must know that my Bus Boy is one cute sleepyhead. The bus takes about 40 minutes from A to B and sometimes the boy gets sleepy. He tucks his phone into his pocket, crosses his arms, and rests his blond mop against the window. It's one of the moments I can stare at him shamelessly without the risk of getting caught. Then, he shakes off a minute or two before our stop and proceeds to get off the bus to let me watch him as he walks home to his mum and dad. As I said, I have no fucking clue what sports he does but the evidence suggests horseback riding. I mean, I'm just kidding, he's not fucking horseback riding but as he walks, he sways from left to right like a cowboy that's spent his whole day in the saddle. It's obvious that he's grown a lot during the last few years and he's not feeling very comfortable in his newly developed teen body. As you might've figured out by now, I'm addicted to imperfections and it turns me on endlessly. His awkward, lithe frame begs to be taken care of. But I'm not all about that, no! I want us to be friends. I’m 19 and he can’t be more than 3-4 years younger than me. Actually, he’s just a few inches shorter, and only because he’s so slim, he seems smaller overall.

So today his training had to be pretty rough because his head is swaying from left to right all the way and he's cutely shaking it off and jerking his head up as his consciousness is leaving and coming back to him. The doggie on my lap is nodding off, too, and I'm switching my attention from one puppy to another, trying to figure out which one is more adorable.

We're closing in on our stop and Bus Boy's lights are out. This is my chance, I realize with panic. Damn, I'm really about to do it. He's completely out of his senses and there's no way he'll wake up by himself. Someone's gotta be the better man and help out the poor boy, or else!

We're really close now and I don't know what I'm doing. To make matters worse, some guy enters the bus and sits next to my boy. Way to ruin our intimate moment, creep.

The bus bumps over a hole in the road and the boy jumps as everyone else inside does. Fuck Polish roads. I'm gonna lose my chance to talk to Bus Boy just because the town council can't keep the fucking roads in a decent shape. By some miracle, Bus Boy doesn't wake up. The game must've been really rough.

Time to get up. The advantage of small dog breeds - they easily fit in your hand and you can carry them with your other hand free. And I need that other hand, alright.

I slowly approach where Bus Boy is sitting and I feel my courage leaving me. The guy sitting next to the boy gives me a look. Probably because of the dog, I tell myself. Anyway, I don't fucking need any audience. It is going to be awkward enough without it.

I'm there. I press the stop button and look at the boy. He's looking fucking sexy today. His blond mop, his slim frame, his cheapish sports outfit. His head swaying from left to right. Gotta do it now. The bus has almost stopped. I reach with my hand and nudge the boy. The man gives me a weird look. Fuck. This. Fucking. Guy!

Bus Boy jumps when I poke him. He looks around in confusion, slowly coming back to reality. Then he looks up at me.

"Your stop," I say. It takes him a while to register what I just said to him and only when the door opens and I step off the bus, the puppy trustfully resting on my forearm, he snatches his backpack and jumps from his seat. I'm already outside and watch him hastily exit the bus, the double doors nearly cutting him in half. He makes it last minute.

I put the doggie on the ground and look at the boy intently. He's adorably spooked.

"Thanks," he says.

The way he says it stops me in my tracks. Thanks is a short word but long enough to reveal his accent. Eastern accent. It's Russian or Ukrainian but judging by how many Ukrainians live in my city, I bet he's Ukrainian, too.

Now to the bad news - Bus Boy rushes past me as I'm standing there, lost in thought. He just walks away and I'm staring at him like a lunatic instead of initiating small talk just as I intended to. Then he crosses the street and is gone.

I look down at the doggie. He's taking a piss and giving me a perplexed look. Ares doesn't think much of me right now, that's for certain. I'm not feeling the best about myself either but I'm disappointed about the lack of support from the little guy.


A few days pass. I tell my gay friends about the developments and they encourage me to make a push for it. I reply that he doesn't seem interested and he’s doing way too much sports to be gay. They tell me that it’s just a cliché and in fact, there are many gay sportsmen. I ask them if they know a single one in real life. They don’t.

Then, a miracle happens.

Bus Boy starts noticing me on our rides home. I nod at him every time he enters the bus. He is almost always late and I love watching him running from around the corner to make it just before the bus door closes. I swear it's gonna cut him in two one day. I can't make up my mind which half I'd be taking back home. Okay, I'm just kidding, I'm not that messed up. Anyway, every time he enters the bus, I nod at him and he nods back. Another day, I see him near my house when I walk Ares and he says, "Hey." I'm elated.

I don't say shit about all that to my friends. This is getting real. I mean - nothing is getting real. He's just polite enough to acknowledge his fucking neighbor. In my head, though, we're getting married next summer.

Two weeks later it's Friday and a breakthrough happens. I'm not even remotely interested in shitting you, so either keep up with me or go away now because it's gonna get batshit crazy and I'm not using this ancient phrase lightly.

So yeah, it's Friday. I'm visiting my friends. We're drinking beer, smoking weed, and watching freaky stuff on YouTube. That's my life; that's my leisure of choice; judge me all you want, I couldn't care less. Sorry if I sound frustrated - it's because I am. It's almost midnight when I'm back in my neighborhood. I'm walking slowly, enjoying the fresh night air and feeling pleasantly weightless.

Then I hear it.

"Psst! Hey!"

It comes from the bushes. My sight is hazy as it is and conveniently, the nearby street lamps are dead and I can't see shit. I know there's a bench there and sometimes mothers sit on it while their kids play around or just sleep in the strollers. I stop in my tracks and try to calibrate my sight but it's not working. Dark shapes are dancing funnily in front of my eyes.

"Come!" the voice says again and I'm almost sure I recognize this faint eastern accent. This time, I'm sure I'm not hallucinating. I make a few steps towards the source of the sound and only when I'm practically right in front of the bench, my eyes get used to the darkness. There he is, sitting, all sexy and casual. Bus Boy.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," he says. He's looking up at me and I take a hint to sit down.

"Not hanging out with your friends?" I ask, basking in the glory of how stupid it sounds.

"No, I'm just chilling," he replies. God bless his accent. "And you?"

"Been visiting friends, I was about to go back home."

"We ride the same bus," he notices. His voice is fairly high-pitched but raspy. His face is a little bit long, as is pretty much every part of his body. His eyes, maybe not very sharp, but curious and thinking. God bless everything about him.

"Yeah. I take it to go home from college."

He makes a short pause. "You've been looking at me."

"Yes," I reply with fake confidence. "I've been meaning to talk to you, but you always seem absent."

"Yeah, I'm told I look like that sometimes," he says, and for the first time, he smiles. Bless that boy!

"Yeah, you do," I smile back, grateful to see him not freaked out. "You have a great smile, by the way."

For some reason, he finds it hilarious. He throws his head back and laughs heartily. Just then, I notice he's got a bruise on the left side of his face. Looks fresh. I'm still high, though, and his laughter is contagious. We spend the next thirty seconds laughing for no reason.

I'm the first to contain myself although I have this tingling feeling in my cheeks from the high. "What sports are you doing?"

"Tennis, umm... soccer, swimming," he says.

"I thought so. I like tennis," I say.

His eyes light up. "Really? Want to play with me?"

In more ways than one, I do. I laugh. "I bet you have lots of friends your age you'd rather play with." As I say it, I see his face morphing from youthful excitement to... guilt, I guess. "I mean," I continue, "sure I'd like to, I just meant you're probably way better than me."

I think my diversion worked because now I can read some pride and cheekiness radiating from his eyes. "You're gonna have to wait and see," he says.

"What's your name?" I ask.


"Cool, I'm Rob. So you're from Ukraine, right?"


We shake hands. Very inappropriate, considering it's the quarantine. Needless to say, I don't care. If I get the virus and die, it will still be worth it.

"I envy you," I say.


"My parents would never let me stay outside at this hour when I was... 15? 16?"

He chuckles, "Keep guessing," and smirks. My little ruse didn't work.

"You’re a pretty secretive dude, aren’t you? Anyway, your parents seem to be very... liberal"

"Liberal?" he laughs. "They're not liberal at all. They're very strict. Especially dad."

"I don't want to know your definition of strictness if he lets you stay outside after midnight," I say. I sure hope his dad's strictness doesn't have anything to do with the gash on his face. "Anyway, I have to go now, I'm tired. See you around."

"Yeah, see you... Rob?"


"Give me your number."


"Remember? Tennis."

"Oh right. Sure, here it is. Text me or call me anytime."

"Damn dude, you're high," he laughs at me as we exchange numbers.

I'm heading home and I'm as happy as can be. You're probably wondering why I let him go so soon. Well, this exchange has been stressing me out and I'm relieved that it ended before I did or said something stupid. Bus Boy gave me his number. I couldn't hope to end it on a better note today.

hr /> Thanks for reading! Chapter 2 coming very soon. I always appreciate your comments and reactions, so don't be shy and let me know if you have some thoughts already. Love ya!
Copyright © 2021 Arch Hunter; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I was a bus rider as a teenager and into college and then years later I had trouble seeing things on the road and had a few close calls so I decided  to get the hell off the road before I killed someone so I'm a bus/trolley rider again.This story isn't that far fetched I once made a friend because we rode the same bus route(no not like in this story)Looking forward to see how this develops

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Interesting start..but a fresh bruise and setting on a bench after midnight seems concerning. Looking forward to more chapters,  thank you. 

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I road the bus and commuter train for years.  People watching was one of my favorite hobbies. This is a real interesting start.  I can't wait to see where it goes.

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This story is amazing! You can almost feel the trepidation and anxiety that Rob is feeling for Artem at every encounter. 

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16 hours ago, Christopher said:

This story is amazing! You can almost feel the trepidation and anxiety that Rob is feeling for Artem at every encounter. 

This sort of reveals which parts of the story were based on true events... Thank you for appreciating it! ❤️ 

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