Make Whole Our Broken Souls - 1. Chapter 1

The reverberating sound of a teenage boy being slammed against the locker elicited a mental cringe within Shawn. The commotion took place not ten foot before his eyes – whereby Alex was pinning the victim, who only measured five foot seven in height and barely half a door frame's width in girth, against the locker, while one of Alex's goons was tearing up the boy's assignments for the day.

“Sam...” Shawn whispered, too silent for any human ear.

“You pathetic wimp,” Alex sneered in Sam's face. “You're so gay that both your parents died from AIDS!”

Shawn could trace a tinge of tension in Sam's otherwise nonchalant face – Shawn wouldn't have thought that Alex had the wits in him to taunt Sam with his parents. Though while two years ago, Sam might have reacted more viscerally to his only weakness, he seemed less provoked each time it was brought up.

Shawn's concentration was shattered when Ron startled him with an arm draped on his shoulder. “Not joining in this time?” Ron uttered.

“Maybe later,” Shawn replied tersely; his eyes were still transfixed on the scene that unfolded before him. As the start of the first period drew nigh, the crowd dispersed, leaving Sam, the contents of his bag, and his torn assignments lying around the ground. Sam perfunctorily cleaned the mess and gathered himself before the start of yet another day. Though as he walked past Shawn's left side, Shawn deftly manoeuvred his leg leftwards, just in time to trip Sam as he stumbled and fell on the hard marble floor.

“Classic!” Ron giggled and gave Shawn a high-five before the both of them proceeded down the hallway. Shawn tilted his head just enough to have Sam in his peripheral vision. Like every other time, he hoped that Sam would sneer back; alas, like every other time, Sam only took a slight moment to stand up, gathered himself, and proceeded unfazed like nothing had happened.

“What's the point of being the most popular guy in school when the only guy you've secretly been in love with refuse to even acknowledge you – even as a bully,” Shawn thought, crestfallen.

The pathetic routine had been ongoing for two years now. It was two years ago when a relatively cheerful and “low-key” boy decided to launch a crusade to throw himself against every bully in one of the largest high schools in Ottawa, Canada. It was also the same time when an uprising hockey player, who unequivocally bested his peers and his seniors in skill, charisma, and arguably physical charm, came to realisation that he was besotted with a boy.

* * *

“Hey! Why don't you pick someone at least half your size!” bellowed Sam. His stunt soon drew all eyes along the hallway and its vicinity. Standing up against a bully was a rare act in the school. Students and teachers alike often turned their blind eye. Victims had to accustom themselves, and wade through the torture for four years or until the bullies got bored with them and turned to someone else.

“Oh, look who's trying to play hero today.” mocked Ryan, as he turned his attention to Sam. “Are you trying to defend the faggot over here?” Ryan taunted as he closed the distance between himself and his impending victim.

“Yes,” replied Sam solemnly. “Only someone who's gay and utterly deprived of intimacy with another man, probably because he's too much of a coward to confront his feelings would take pleasure in bullying another gay guy,” Sam lambasted. “So that makes you gay then huh?”

The unnecessarily long and witty remark made Shawn chuckle inside. He had just received the news that he would be playing varsity despite being a sophomore, and was pulled into the scene like everyone else, on his way to his next class. At sixteen, most of puberty was already behind him. Standing six foot two, with short and spiky jet black hair, a pair of striking emerald eyes, a face chiselled to match Adonis's and a torso sculptured to match Hercules', Shawn demanded the attention of many sexually blossoming teenagers. At the young age, he even had a few amateur encounters with some of the most popular girls to boast for. Though before that day, no lad had ever caught his attention.

There was nothing extraordinary with Sam's physical appearance. However, for reasons unbeknownst to Shawn, while Sam stood fearlessly facing Ryan, Sam's every subtle feature was accentuated for Shawn. Raw courage was palpable on Sam's smooth visage; though his frame thin, his posture emanated a blend of strength and poise; his locks of brown matted hair did nothing to hide the flames within his golden eyes; though on tighter scrutiny, Shawn could almost see a tinge of melancholy within those eyes.

A slap to Sam's face from Ryan, so strong that Sam staggered and fell, woke Shawn from his trance.

For the next two years, Shawn travelled the lone journey of discovering his bisexuality while his harboured infatuation for Sam nourished and grew with each day. On the other hand, for the next two years, Sam dedicated his entire life to campaign against bullies – many speculated, but very few even had a clue as to the motivation behind Sam's crusade. While he did occasionally bring the fight to the bullies by engaging their parents or by speaking reason to whose capable of heeding, most of the times, he simply brought attention onto himself to spare those less resilient.

* * *

“Oh yeah, Sam,” Shawn moaned, “suck that dick!”

Shawn's grip tightened around the brown locks of Ethan's hair as Ethan sucked and bobbed on the whole of Shawn's nine inches. Ethan had one hand massaging Shawn's nipples while the other furiously attending to his own throbbing dick.

“Oh Sam, I'm so close,” Shawn gasped as he threw his head as far back as he could; his eyes were shut. “I'm going to cum!”

Shawn released the whole of his orgasm into Ethan's throat; after which, it only took Ethan a few more strokes before he himself spilled on Shawn's sheets. Shawn was still panting heavily as he finally allowed his eyes to dilate, starring right into his white ceiling.

Ethan, exhausted himself, laid himself beside Shawn. “God, you're hot,” he muttered. “But so pathetic”. The both chuckled at that.

“Thanks,” Shawn responded.

At some point during Shawn's journey of sexuality, about a year ago, when all his attempts of acquiring Sam's attention – first friendly, then hostile – came to naught, he decided that he should meet other guys. If for no other agenda, he figured he needed someone to play ear to his rants and raves on his saga of unrequited love. That was how he met Ethan; as well as over a few other dozen lads – he learned that while most people liked to claim that they are out for inner beauty, eternal romance, and bonding with soulmates, most would throw themselves at a model-looking hockey player that had a tolerable personality. Regrettably, he also learned that no matter how many holes he stuck his dick into or how many dinners and romantic dates he had tried to engage himself in, his heart had been hopelessly stolen by the boy who stood firm to someone twice his size and wrought havoc in the lives of those who so arrogantly and mercilessly wrought havoc in the lives of others.

Of the many failed encountered he had, only one, Ethan, remained his friend. Ethan, who also identified as bisexual, was also a senior at the same school as Shawn and Sam. Ethan, also happened to be the only living soul who knew about the tragic romantic story of Shawn and Sam, or as Shawn would correct: “the tragic romantic story of Shawn who loves Sam”. As eighteen year-olds with raging hormones, they naturally came into a contractual agreement to use each others' bodies to fulfil their carnal desires; the lack of romantic interest was mutual and reciprocal.

“So any updates?” Ethan asked. “The last time we spoke, you were about to ask him if he were gay; which to me is kind of a given!”

“Oh come on, it doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that he could be flaunting his fictitious homosexuality as part of his crusade.” Shawn chuckled, “And yeah, I did. He said, and I quote, 'no idea, perhaps I'm gay, perhaps straight, perhaps asexual; it matters not'.”

“Oh God, both of you are pathetic,” Ethan audibly rolled his eyes.

Shawn shrugged, “He doesn't usually talk about himself on that website and chatroom; he's mostly just there to offer his 2 cents of advice to whoever that seeks it.”

* * *

Ever since Shawn discovered that Sam frequented a youth support forum and chatroom via cajoling Ethan into hacking into Sam's computer – when people started tearing up Sam's assignments, Sam started sending emails with the assignments attached to the school library computers as well as saving them on his USB drive, which gave Ethan the opportunity to upload a malware into Sam's drives – Shawn had spent most of his nights lingering on the forum and chatroom, reading all of Sam's postings and hoping for Sam to come online.

On most nights, Shawn would teeter on the edge of caution – patiently and gradually learning more about Sam without exposing his identity for he acknowledged that if exposed, he would lose his only connection to Sam. Though Sam hadn't been frequenting the online realm as often as he used to, and with graduation looming ahead, Shawn feared that he may forever lose the chance with Sam if he did not take a more aggressive stance.

MasqueradeLad: Hey, how was your day? Hope the bullying wasn't too bad. Haven't seen you in awhile!

Sam90: Hey. Bullying remains the same old routine. Yeah, haven't come online as often – been busy.

Shawn took a deep breath.

MasqueradeLad: Busy with what? We kind of miss you. *wink*.

Sam90: Personal stuff.

Shawn's shoulders sagged, disappointed with the lack of response.

MasqueradeLad: Has the hockey captain been giving you more trouble? Curious, what do you think of him? He doesn't seem like the other goons; don't know why he's even bullying you.

Sam90: He's been okay. I don't really give much thought to them unless they are really causing a lot of trouble and I'm motivated enough to find a strategy to stop them. Otherwise, I simply grin and bear it I suppose.

“Fuck!” Shawn bellowed as he slammed himself on his bed. Shawn was frustrated, and his patience was wearing thin. It had been more than six months that Shawn stood vigil in an intangible chatroom, jumping with excitement every time Sam signed on. Shawn couldn't help but feel that he was in a rut with little potential for progress. Though he had to admit that he did learn quite a lot about Sam – that both his parents happened to die from leukaemia two years ago, which was also when he started his crusade; that he was living with his grandmother; and the most intimate detail Shawn had hoped to attain: that he decided to discard his own pursuit of happiness in order to dedicate all of his efforts to “marginally improving the lives of others”.

“Sam90: Why, you ask? Well, it's nothing really. Life is kind of unfair and cruel. How can I enjoy my delectable steak meal when right across from the table, I see men starving to death? My appetite for desires abate when I can see that the same desires are the source of much misery. Life has become an illusion to me, and since I no longer need to live for my parents, I might as well take solace that the things I do in life might somehow make this life a little less unfair and a little less cruel for people who actually want to live in it.”

When Shawn had read those words, Shawn had the urge to lunge through his window screen into Sam's room, hug him tight and whisper to him: “then live for me and make me happy, and I'll try my best to make you happy too”.

* * *

Shawn's mood grew progressively worse when Sam did not appear online for the entire week. His sour mood had evidently permeated to the food served on the dining table for both his parents stopped eating and looked at him with concern.

“Shawn, is everything okay?” His mother asked.

“Ah, don't sulk boy, one of my hockey club mates told me that his daughter has the hots for you. Say, why not I introduce the two of you eh? Things will be better then,” he dad said in jest, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Harold!” his mother responded in shock.

“Sorry, I have no interest in meeting another of your friends' daughters,” Shawn replied tersely.

“Now why is that lad?” His dad asked, bemused. “One day, you're going to be a hockey star, playing for the NHL, girls will be throwing themselves at you then,” his dad gave a hearty laugh. “You should start enjoying the attention now and get used to it.”

“Stop it.” Shawn couldn't refrain himself from muttering. Though uttered monotonously, both his parents were taken aback.

Shawn took the deepest breath he had ever taken in order to muster the courage to speak the words he had been wanting to utter for years: “I don't want to be a hockey star, and I don't want to be popular, rich or famous.”

Shawn paused as he raised his eyes to meet his mother's, which were already brimming with tears.“I just want to be happy; but I don't know how.”

“In my eighteen years of life, I have only discovered one thing that could potentially make me happy. And I don't even know if it will, once I get it, or if I get it,” Shawn chuckled at his own silliness.

“And he is not a lass, he's a boy named Sam,” Shawn gulped.

* * *

The figurative temperature in Shawn's house plummeted significantly ever since Shawn's dramatic confession – though there were no hostilities; it was simply laden with confusion, and a lot of tension. Shawn knew that his parents weren't bad people. They were not fanatics who would throw their son out for being gay or maniacs who would impose their own dreams on their children at all cost. Similar to Shawn, Shawn's parents too wanted him to be happy. Since they too know not precisely how, they encouraged him to engage in activities that have made themselves happy – which for Shawn's dad would be hockey and girls.

Shawn's attention immediately shifted from the situation of his family to Sam who was soaked in mud. Two years ago, all who witnessed would have laughed without qualm at his expense. Though, as much as Sam hated taking credit for whatever work he did, even he must acknowledge that there has been an improvement – laughters were scarce, and while most remain apathetic, anger and dismay were palpable in some.

Sam had promptly passed a fifty dollar bill to the janitor and apologized before rushing to the locker room showers. Shawn once asked Sam in the chatroom with regards to the source of his courage, to which Sam responded:

“Sam90: When you have nothing to lose, you have everything to gain.”

“Do I really have nothing to lose?” Shawn wondered as he followed Sam to the locker room. There were no gym classes at the time, and Sam was alone in the shower. Shawn moved himself onto a vantage point with a full view of water cascading down Sam's back, washing away the mud. The mesmerizing view of Sam's lean back which led to his bubbly-shaped cheeks had cast a spell on Shawn. In the last two years, Shawn had never been half as daring. Though the more he felt helpless, the more desperation thrived – and even Shawn knew well that desperation was a good source of courage; ignoble courage it might be, but courage nonetheless.

“Do I really have nothing to lose?” Shawn unconsciously moved towards Sam, his footsteps muffled by the shower. He removed his shirt, and twirled it with his hands.

“Do I really have nothing to lose?” In one deft manoeuvre, he lunged towards Sam and used his shirt to blindfold Sam. With one hand, big enough to restrain both of Sam's hands, he had one free hand to hold Sam against his own body and explored. Shawn had managed to take a good sniff at Sam's neck and had managed to run his fingers through Sam's flat abs before Sam could even squeal, “let go of me!”.

Sam started to lose his usual calm composure when Shawn dick began to throb against Sam's back and as his fingers started nibbling Sam's nipples. Before Sam could shriek for help, Shawn turned Sam over and muffled Sam with Shawn's own lips. Sam struggled to no avail, as one of the strongest students had him pinned against the wall, his hands restrained behind his back, and his legs trapped by Shawn's own muscular hips. Intoxicated, Shawn was grinding his hips against Sam as he massaged Sam's asshole with his fingers.

Sam finally ceased struggling, and resorted to squirming and whimpering instead. Shawn's fingers were invading deeper and deeper into Sam while he nibbled and bit on Sam's neck and earlobes.

Shawn whispered huskily: “Suck my dick, please?” Sam gave a light muffled chuckle, for it was ironic for his rapist to attempt to add an iota of mutuality into the engagement. Sam although motionless at first, gradually lowered himself to his knee and took Shawn's throbbing dick into his mouth.

“Oh God!” Shawn yelped. The sensation was beyond overwhelming, and although the act was sloppy, two years' worth of pent up desire was enough to have Shawn burst in Sam's mouth within seconds.

As Shawn's orgasm subsided, Shawn regain clarity. Gaining full realisation of his action, Shawn jerked back with such strength that he fell from his own force. He panted heavily while the noise of water clashing on linoleum deafened him. Sam was able to remove the blindfold and saw for himself the identity of his rapist.

Sam walked towards Shawn tepidly and placed a hand on Shawn's shoulders. “It's okay, lust can sometimes get the best of human beings, it was consensual, you can forgive yourself,” Sam said monotonously.

Passionate anger rose up within Shawn, in one quick gesture, he stood up, and pinned Sam against the shower wall.

“I hate you!” Tears cascading from his eyes. “Why can't you just feel like everyone else? Why must you be so stoic? You just got raped!” Shawn weakened as he rested his head against the wall beside Sam. “Why can't you want to be happy? Why can't I help you be happy?”

As if struck by a sudden emotion, Shawn flung himself back again. “I'm a monster,” Shawn muttered. “Why the fuck am I still alive?” Shawn sprinted out of the showers.

The insinuation behind Shawn's words permeated through Sam as his eyes dilated. “Shawn, no!” He shouted, but Shawn was far out of range.

* * *

“Ethan!” Sam shrieked.

Ethan was startled both by the resonating sound of his name and the palm on his shoulder. He turned back to a panting Sam, but was too bemused to speak.

“You need to skip school. We need to find Shawn,” Sam uttered.

Within minutes, they were in Ethan's car driving towards Shawn's house. Ethan hasn't spoken much since their encounter and did not ask about the situation either – if Sam wanted to tell, he would have. “When your best friend's crush of two years come running to you telling you that you need to find him, that's all you need to do as you're told,” thought Ethan.

“Fuck, he's not home!” Ethan uttered frustratingly as they relentlessly rung the door bell.

“You don't have his phone's GPS hacked by any chance do you?” Sam asked, which elicited a raised eyebrow from Ethan.

When Ethan did not respond, Sam continued, “Alright Ethan, if Shawn said he wanted to kill himself, where would he be right now?”

Ethan's eyes dilated with fear as he was finally given insight as to the urgency. “Get into the car, now!”

* * *

Shawn stood on the edge of a ridge overlooking the lush forest several hundred foot below. He was waiting for the alcohol to take effect as he gulped down the bottle of tequila. So many times had he sought peace on this very ledge as a place to clear his mind, that it was almost romantic that it would be the location which would award him eternal peace against the evil he had committed.

“Now, I have nothing to lose,” Shawn thought as he prepared himself mentally to let all material things go.

The shriek of a car breaking startled Shawn, and he couldn't help but to turn himself to the cause of the commotion.

Ethan was rushing towards Shawn, “Shawn don't!”

“Stay back!” Shawn raised an arm towards Ethan while leaning backwards, causing Ethan to force himself to a halt.

“Sam...” Shawn murmured as he saw Sam walking towards him. The sight of Sam steeled his determination and he turned back to face his fate.

“Shawn!”Bellowed Sam, “you've got something to lose!”

Sam's words took Shawn aback, and he gradually turned to face Sam.

Sam glared deeply into Shawn's eyes and repeated his words in a slow but accentuated pace, “you've got something to lose.”

As soon as Sam had gotten Shawn's attention, he pressed on, “now, come over here and lie down.” When Shawn remained motionless, Sam frowned and said sternly, “Now!”

Shawn gulped, and as if entranced by Sam's stern gaze, he unwittingly moved towards Sam, and plonked himself down on the ground beneath Sam's feet.

Sam knelt and commanded, “For the next hour, you're not allowed to think or analyse. Just lie down and rest. The alcohol should help. I'll be lying down right here beside you.”

“Those words you said, that I have something to lose...” Shawn slurred, “... what do you mean? Did you just say them to get me here?”

“I'll tell you when you wake up,” Sam said as he lied down beside Shawn. “Now rest.”

* * *

Ethan left after Shawn drifted to sleep. Sam had promised to keep him updated on the situation.

Shawn awoke with a massive headache. When he came to realise that Sam was lying right beside him, within an arm's length away, a blend of bliss, regret and pain assaulted him.

It was seven o'clock in the evening.

“You owe me an answer,” uttered Shawn; somehow he knew that Sam was lying awake beside him. After a moment's pause, he received the answer he dreaded but expected, “Yes, I said it to prevent you from jumping.”

“It's late, will you let me take you back home?” Sam said; to which Shawn responded while chuckling, “you can't even drive.”

“Stalker,” Sam said nonchalantly. “We'll call a cab.”

“Oh get up, I'll drive us back home,” Shawn said, as he fought the pangs of a hangover to stand up.

“You're drunk!” Sam protested.

“Trust me, I don't overestimate my abilities when your safety is in question,” replied Shawn earnestly as he forced Sam into the passenger seat.

* * *

Shawn arrived home to a pair of distraught parents clinging to a phone.

His dad was the first to stand. “Where were you? We were about to call the police!” Shawn's dad yelled. His rage was interrupted when they noticed that Shawn had brought company.

“Parents, this is Sam, and Sam these are the parents,” Shawn said groggily as he headed towards his room. His dad approached Sam cautiously to utter, “Son, I think you should leave,” to which Shawn promptly responded as he walked up the stairs, “Go ahead, get rid of the one person who was able to stop me from jumping off the ridge.”

Both parents flinched at Shawn's words, while his mother ran towards his dad in tears and placed herself in his arms, “Oh my God.”

Sam was empathetic towards the parents who were in utter distress and distraught. “I promise I'll get him to have a conversation with you about this, but is it okay if you let him rest for awhile?”

There was no reaction from Shawn's dad, but as soon as Shawn's mother meekly nodded, Sam leaped towards Shawn's room.

“What are you doing here,” Shawn said as Sam entered his room. “I don't want to be another of your charity cases. You owe no obligation to me, and if I die, it would not be because of you.”

Sam walked towards Shawn's supine torso on the bed, and gently laid his hand on Shawn's shoulders. Upon the contact, Shawn flinched in distress, and pushed himself to the edge of the bed away from Sam.

Sam chuckled with the risk of being impudent in consideration to the solemness of the circumstances, “I don't think I've ever heard of the rapist being more traumatised than the raped.”

Shawn chuckled lightly against his better judgement only to return to his stern composure seconds later. “I don't think you understand, I should be going to jail for that.”

Sam laid himself down beside Shawn, “Well you raped me, as opposed to someone else, so it's okay.”

Astonished by Sam's words, Shawn responded, “How does that make it okay?”

“Just as one man's meat can be another man's poison, one man's poison can be entirely harmless to another man,” Sam responded in what Shawn thought to be his typical condescending philosophical tone – which Shawn was actually quite fond of, if he had to admit.

“So what now?” Shawn asked; his emotions were still in a complete disarray, with guilt being the most prominent element.

“Now Shawn,” Sam said with some trepidation, “for the next half an hour, you'll be my slave and I will dishonour you by raping you in return.”

Shawn couldn't refrain himself from chuckling hysterically at Sam's suggestion. “Is that the best solution that great wise Sam could think of in the past few hours?” Shawn's hysteria subsided and was reduced back to his melancholic state, “It wouldn't work.”

“What wouldn't work? Sam feigned ignorance.

“I don't want to be your charity case. There's nothing you can do to help me rid this indelible taint from my heart.” Shawn responded. “Just try not to feel sorry for me – I'm a bully afterwhile; worst than any of them, really.”

Sam sat himself up on the edge of the bed. “Nobody gives a shit about your fucking guilt. You raped me, and now I want revenge, so stand up and strip!” Sam ordered.

Shawn swore that Sam must be practising some sort of witchcraft for his words seemed to compel Shawn's body to do as told. Shawn rose to stand before Sam as he gradually peeled off his shirt, revealing his ripped abs and defined pectorals.

“Now the shorts,” Sam continued to order. Shawn proceeded to remove his nylon shorts, revealing the jockstrap underneath. At their position – Sam sitting at the edge of the bed, and Shawn who stood facing him – Sam's eyesight was directly in line with Shawn's half-fledged dick bulging from the jock-strap.

Sam gulped at the sight, and took a moment to focus himself, reminding himself the purpose of the task.

“You need a good spank, lie down on my lap.” Sam ordered.

Shawn, in all honesty, did not know whether he was about to live though his greatest humiliation or most erotic fantasy; but did as he was told without further thought.

Shawn then started feeling pangs of intermittent pain on his butt cheeks. As Shawn moaned and grunted to Sam's gestures, his dick was now hard at full mast, peering out from the thin pair of jock-strap.

Sam, in all honesty, did not know if he should be refraining himself from enjoying this, or if he should allow himself the pleasure in order to make the entire façade more believable to Shawn's unconscious mind, and hence increasing the likelihood of his plan's success. In the end though, the decision was out of his hands – Sam, whose first sexual experience was being raped in the showers by the hockey captain, was not able to command his body as well as he thought he could; and the sensation of Shawn's hard cock grinding against his crotch had awaken his own manhood.

Sam stopped the spanking and grazed his fingers around Shawn's puckered ass-hole. “I bet no one has ever entered you before, am I right?” Sam whispered huskily into Shawn's ears.

“No one,” Shawn whimpered. “Please don't” At that point, Shawn no longer knew if he were sincere or going along with the façade.

“Lie down on the bed, and hold your legs upwards. Spread them good for me,” Sam commanded. Both of them shifted their positions, and Shawn had his asshole fully exposed at the edge of the bed while Sam proceeded to undress himself, trying his best to conceal his hesitance.

“Pinch your own nipples and start moaning like a whore,” Sam ordered.

Shawn had to admit that he did feel a tinge of humiliation even if the man doing this to him was the man of his dreams. And he sure hoped that his parents would not be hearing him moan when Sam would impale him. Though all fear evaporated when Shawn felt the sensation of Sam's tongue against his hole. It was not long after that Sam inserted his finger to probe for Shawn's prostate.

Shawn gave a muffled yelp as Sam's finger grazed against the spot Sam was looking for. Sam had to place his own hand to muffle Shawn as his finger continued to milk pre-cum which flowed generously from Shawn's throbbing dick. Shawn had no idea that his prostate would have such a degree of sensitivity. No one had ever offered to top Shawn, and Shawn had always thought that bottoming was the feminine role – and feminine he determined, he was not. Though he didn't know how to think of himself as he was leaking pre-cum like a lose faucet while someone was fingering his ass. He continued to massage his own nipples while moaning and squirming at the same time.

Before Shawn was even aware, Sam had impaled him with the entire length of Sam's seven inches. The novel sensation to both of them was bordering overwhelming. Sam knees felt weak and he had to lean on Shawn while he continued to thrust rhythmically into Shawn. Shawn's legs and hands proceeded to entangle around Sam's tiny torso.

“What would your friends say if they saw their captain fucked by a guy and moaning like a bitch,” Sam whispered into Shawn's ears.

“Please don't tell anyone,” Shawn begged unintelligibly. Though soon, Shawn could not withstand the combined sensation of Sam's breath and tongue in his ears, Sam's pulsating dick in his ass and the friction of the jock-strap material as well as Sam's skin on his own throbbing dick. He was about to cum like an animal and Sam sensed it too. In the nick of time, Sam muffled Shawn's screams by planting a deep kiss into Shawn. And as Shawn experienced one of the most sensational orgasms in his life, he could feel Sam's warm tongue in his mouth, Sam's warm fluid in his most intimate orifice, and his own cum on his abs.

As they lay panting, Sam finally broke the silence. “Guilt serves to help us stay true to our own conscience. It should not be so burdensome that it would prevent us from living at all. Contrary to our ideals, men often commit crime against their own conscience; any one who claim otherwise probably has too small of a conscience to begin with. We can sulk about it, bash ourselves about it, but eventually, we should learn from it, and move on. As for me, you did not harm me permanently. What is in the past shall remain in the past, if I refuse to allow it to affect my future, then it simply won't.”

“Now, go and talk to your parents. I'll see you in school.” Sam said as he got up to dress and left.

* * *

“Dude, he likes you!” Ethan said through the phone in a conversation with Shawn, a day after the incident had passed.

“Go on, and try convincing my irrational brain on why you think he likes me,” Shawn replied as he lay on his bed starring into his ceiling.

“He was concerned about you,” argued Ethan to which Shawn countered, “He would have been with anyone.”

“He fucked you!” - “To make me feel better about raping him.”

“He didn't hate you for raping him” - “Just like how he doesn't hate Alex for bullying him.”

Ethan was about to give up when he had a revelation from recalling a conversation with Sam. “He knew we hacked into his computer, he knew it was you, and yet he still told you all those things about himself and talked to you.”

From their earlier encounter, Shawn did have the inkling that Sam knew that Shawn was his secret admirer from the internet. And it did provide him with a glimpse of hope to think that Sam actually enjoyed, or rather tolerated the act of, talking to Shawn.

“That's a good one. Why do you think that is? Shawn conceded.

“Probably because he's a fucking wuss like you, and is too afraid to admit his feelings for you!” Screamed Ethan into the phone.

* * *

The reverberating sound of a teenage boy being slammed against the locker elicited a mental cringe within Shawn. The commotion took place not ten foot before his eyes – whereby Alex was pinning the victim, who only measured five foot seven in height and barely half a door frame wide in girth, against the locker, while one of Alex's goons was tearing up the boy's assignments for the day.

“These people never get bored,” Shawn thought as he gave a light chuckle. It was then that Shawn decided that he would not allow himself to be subjected to the vicious cycle that others dwell in. He strode forward, and in a quick swing clashed his fist against Alex, which sent Alex elaborately stumbling onto the ground.

Shawn hollered, “As Sam would say, 'if teachers refuse to take action, then it is up to the students to self-police'. I for one shall take a stand alongside Sam against this disgusting act of demeaning others just for one's own leisure.”

As all who witnessed were too petrified to react, including Sam, Shawn turned to face Sam.

“There's no rule that one can't be happy while trying to marginally improve others' well-being. Not enjoying your steak meal won't solve hunger issues. Eat so that you have the strength to help,” Shawn said to Sam, while attempting to mimic Sam's typical condescending and pretentious tone which he had fallen in love with.

“What say you?” Shawn probed with anticipation as he closed the distance between him and Sam to a hair's breadth. “As unhealthy as it sounds, we can both be each others' only source of happiness.”

Sam finally leaned towards Shawn's ear, and whispered, “Let's make whole, our broken souls,” before wrapping his arms around Shawn and planting a kiss on his neck.