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    Damond
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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. 

Twisted - 5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t long until Michael heard from Joey again. He wanted to hang out on Saturday, and Michael kind of wanted to too, but… his shoulder was just feeling well enough to paint his room. Michael invited Joey over to help or just to sit and watch if he wanted.

 

Michael spent the morning taking down posters and pulling furniture out into the center of the room, and laying down tarp on the edges. He was pressing down blue tape on the ceiling when the doorbell rang. He started to bounce downstairs, where Will had already let Joey in.

 

Joey seemed a little awkward by the whole confrontation again and his eyes were pleading to get upstairs. “My room’s the first on the right. Are you hungry? I can grab some chips.” Michael offered and headed for the kitchen more on his own behalf. He hadn’t had lunch yet.

 

“I’m fine,” Joey answered and climbed up the stairs.

 

Will meandered into the kitchen and clanked around aimlessly. “So does he go to your school?”

 

“No.” Michael didn’t explain any further. Will probably wouldn’t like that Joey was eighteen, even if the age gap was only two years apart. Michael grabbed a large bag of Ruffles, some dip, and a drink. He retreated back upstairs before Will could ask anything more.

 

Of course, Joey’s attention had been drawn to the rolled up Jeffree Star poster. “Something I need to know?” Joey teased and held it up. Michael swore and dropped his snack onto the bed, snatching the poster away. “No, Katy gave that to me to psych out Will.”

 

Joey chuckled and started to peek at the rest of the posters. Michael hopped onto his displaced bed and opened the chips and dip before inhaling them. Joey helped himself up onto the bed, staring uneasily at the open bedroom door. “He isn’t going to come in and hover or something is he?”

 

“I think I would flash him if he did.” Michael swallowed down a lump of food and reached for his drink. Joey snuck over and pecked a kiss onto Michael’s cheek. “Good to see you then,” he said.

 

Michael blushed slightly and didn’t respond—he just stuffed his mouth with more chips. Totally attractive. He gorged out on food for a while, and Joey fiddled with the iHome on Michael’s dresser. “Mind if I hook up my iPod?”

 

“No.” Michael took another long drink and hopped off the bed. “I’m going to get to painting.”

 

Joey finished setting up his iPod and followed Michael over to the paint cans as he popped off the top with a screwdriver. “You have a second brush?” Joey asked and knelt down to see the paint. “Grey?”

 

“It’s a grey-purple,” Michael corrected him and tossed over a wide brush. “Yeah, I have one plus a roller.”

 

“So periwinkle?” Joey smirked. Michael rolled his eyes.

 

“I guess, but I just liked the color. Will wouldn’t let me do black.”

 

“Ick, yeah that’s tough to paint over.” Joey poured some paint into a tray and stood up with it. “Can I start anywhere or what?”

 

“Anywhere is fine.” Michael waved a hand around the room. “I’m not doing the ceiling, though. At least not today. Don’t know if I have that kind of patience.”

 

Joey nodded and dipped his brush into the paint, looking at the walls in thought. “Am I allowed to splatter paint?”

 

“I wanted to, but Will says it’ll look funny that way.” Michael grumbled and dipped the roller into a tray of its own. They set to work in silence for a while, just listening to Joey’s music play off the dock.

 

“You two don’t really look alike,” Joey spoke up off hand.

 

Michael paused to catch on to what he was talking about. “Oh, I got most of it… from my mom. My hair is blonde though, I just dye it. We might look more alike then.”

 

Joey nodded mutely and let the conversation drop off again. He would sneak around Michael once and a while and give a quick kiss on the head or neck. Michael shot him a look every time, not so used to the open affection, but he didn’t dislike it. It was kind of nice, actually.

 

It took hours for them to get the room painted, and by then it was filled with paint fumes and getting dark outside. Michael figured he was going to have to sleep on the couch or risk brain damage. They opened up windows and hauled furniture back to its original standing place, though with a little gap between the wet paint.

 

“Thanks for the help,” Michael huffed out at the end, tired, and his shoulder a little achy from all the reaching. “You want to stay for dinner?”

 

Joey shook his head and dove in for another kiss, this time on Michael’s lips and little stronger. Michael opened up to it, trying to be careful about touching and getting paint on Joey’s clothes. Joey pulled back and smiled awkwardly. “I’m not that good with parents, sorry. I’d prefer not to.”

 

“That’s fine.” Michael didn’t exactly want the two interacting either; mostly he still didn’t like Will. They kissed again, but shorter.

 

“I’ll text you either later tonight or tomorrow. I’m wiped, though,” Joey complained playfully.

 

Michael scowled and swatted him on the arm. “I’m tired too. Would probably be more tired if you didn’t help, though.”

 

Joey smirked and peppered another kiss onto Michael’s cheek. “I’ll talk to you later.”

 

Michael nodded numbly and walked with Joey to the door. At least he didn’t kiss in front of Will.

 

“Get your room painted?” Will asked from the living room, papers in his lap.

 

“Yeah,” Michael paused, not really wanting to talk, but he had to. “My room smells like paint fumes, is there a guest room or do I get the couch?”

 

“There’s a guest room. I wouldn’t make you sleep on the couch,” Will answered, if not a little offended. Michael shrugged and stashed away the chips and dip from his lunch; the drink was drained between him and Joey. “What’s for dinner?”

 

“I already made it and ate… it’s almost nine. Yours is in the fridge.” Will pointed into the kitchen. Michael pulled open the door and pulled out the covered plate of food. He peeked at it before sliding it into the microwave to heat it up.

 

“So, what school does Joey go to then?” Will asked, continuing the avoided conversation from earlier. Michael groaned, but there was no avoiding it now.

 

“ACC,” he answered softly. Will stared for a second.

 

“You mean he’s in college?”

 

Michael only nodded and pulled his plate out of the microwave, shoveling food into his mouth in another attempt to stall the conversation.

 

“Well then how old is he?” Will demanded. Michael rolled his eyes and took a break from eating.

 

“He’s only eighteen, not that old.”

 

“Does he live alone?” Will stormed over into the kitchen.

 

“Hell if I know, I haven’t been to his place! He’s not a creep, relax,” Michael snapped and ended the discussion by forking more food into his mouth while staring down Will. Will huffed and went back to whatever he was doing in the living room.

 

“I’m doing laundry tomorrow, too, give me anything you need washed,” Will grumbled.

 

Michael just finished eating before moving some stuff into the guest bedroom and sprawling out on the bed. So what if he had assumed a couch over the guest room? He wasn’t used to a guest room. He was used to a one-bedroom apartment with his mother.

 

Sighing, he pulled out his phone and texted with Joey and Katy into the early hours of the morning, trying to stay awake. Eventually he did fall asleep, but it wasn’t any good.

 

He was up by eleven and felt exhausted. He had woken up multiple times during the night from nightmares, which, while they had faded, hadn’t gone away completely.

 

Michael stumbled across the hall and into the bathroom, showering and cleaning up for the day. He shuffled out as Will was coming from his room, looking a little irked. “I got your laundry,” he reminded Michael. “And this.” Will held up the little blue plastic oval of cover up. “I thought you said you weren’t into drag?”

 

“I’m not!” Michael snatched the make-up back. “It’s because my nose is fucking bruised, and I wanted to cover that up!”

 

Will flinched back. Michael was not a morning person.

 

“So what, you aren’t going to take my eye-liner too?” Michael hissed and stormed back into his room, slamming the door with a solid rattle. His room still smelled like paint, but barely. He chucked the make-up at his dresser, where it had been.

 

He was half pissed to admit why he was using it, and the other that Will thought he was into drag. It was all fucking Jason’s fault. Michael started to plot again, figuring he could leave something in Jason’s locker by Wednesday, or hell, even just… plain out get into a brawl with him.

 

Michael had yet to actually fight back. He figured he would do better than Jason would—concerts being the base of his experience. Mosh pits had him practiced in keeping his balance on his feet so he wouldn’t get pushed around too bad, blocking blows, and shoving or hitting right back.

 

He just needed to make sure he didn’t get cornered up against a wall. Michael swore and threw himself onto his bed.

 

But, like Will said, he would actually wait until Jason threw the first punch. Self-defense was the best he could claim if he fought back.

 

Michael holed up in his room for the rest of Sunday, ranting to Katy over text. He played music loud enough he was sure Will could hear it elsewhere in the house, but Will never complained.

 

***

 

The next few days were almost boring without Jason. Nothing happened. Michael hung out with Joey on Tuesday, hanging out at the mall since Michael refused to let Joey and Will confront each other again.

 

Joey teased him a little about the Jeffree Star poster, offering to buy make-up, but that resulted in him getting a firm punch. Michael was still irked at Will about it. “Ow,” Joey complained and rubbed his arm. “Fine, at least you don’t hit like a girl.”

 

Michael scowled and jumped onto the interactive projection on the floor. He stomped on marshmallows, making them slosh around in the pretend chocolate milk. The scene changed after a while to kicking around flowers, and by then Michael was bored.

 

He hopped off and grabbed onto Joey’s arm, hanging on and trying to pull him to the ground. “Jeez!” Joey exclaimed and tried to stay standing upright as Michael sat on the ground. Michael smirked deviously.

 

“I’m bored,” he complained.

 

Joey tugged him back up and slipped an arm around his waist. “You want to go shopping then or what? I have some spare money.”

 

Michael frowned and planted a quick kiss onto Joey’s lips, tongue teasing, and making Joey pause. “Oh,” he finally realized. “Okay. Um, we can go to my place?”

 

Michael agreed and they headed out to his car. They got a few stares along the way, but Michael just dared them to say something. Joey lived a bit further away, just within Denver’s city limits. He had a small studio apartment of his own with a queen bed and a few other small pieces of furniture, and a bathroom.

 

“You commute to ACC from here?” Michael asked. It was even further away from where Joey was now.

 

“I just do that nights. Sunday, Monday and Thursday. It’s going to take a while but I don’t have the money for a lot of classes anyway.” Joey explained and tugged Michael over to a sunken couch.

 

“Don’t your parents help out?” Michael asked carefully.

 

“Told you, I don’t do well with parents.” Joey fidgeted for a moment. “Kicked me out.”

 

“Oh,” Michael paused. “My mom’s dead.” He hadn’t really admitted it to anyone yet, but Joey was a good place to start.

 

“Sorry.” Joey answered automatically. Michael shrugged and crawled onto Joey’s lap on the old couch. Their mouths met, and Joey invaded Michael’s mouth. Michael ground his hips slightly, urging Joey on. Joey’s hands slid down to cup Michael’s ass over his pants.

 

Michael splayed his hands over Joey’s chest, feeling it out before pinpointing two nipples through his shirt and circling them. Joey made a faint noise before breaking the kiss to peel off his shirt. Michael did the same before forcing his mouth back down onto Joey’s.

 

Michael slowly rocked his hips as Joey’s hands explored the bare expanse of his back and chest. Michael returned the favor, dusting his knuckles over the other teen’s chest.

 

Joey grabbed Michael under the arms and pulled him over to the side, laying him down on the couch. Joey climbed on top and sucking onto Michael’s nipples. Michael jerked and swore, bucking his hips up and aching for contact. “Joey,” he growled.

 

Joey glanced up from Michael’s chest, getting the hint and starting to undo both pairs of pants. Michael pushed his down to his knees and watched Joey do the same; his proud shaft standing out from a dark nest. He fisted himself a few times before pressing his groin against Michael’s and circling both shafts with the wide palm of his hand.

 

Michael bit his lip and watched with heated eyes as Joey rubbed them both off. Michael wrapped his legs around Joey and urged him in closer.

 

Pre-cum slicked the palm of Joey’s hand, only half closed around the two shafts as he pumped. His hips started to rock, body craving more friction. Michael felt the pleasure growing and curled his lip back into his mouth. He closed his eyes and muttered a deep “fuck,” and his orgasm spilled out onto his stomach and chest.

 

Joey smiled for a brief moment before tightening his grip and pressing another kiss onto Michael. Michael sunk into the pleasant after effects as Joey spilled his own seed. He nipped lightly on Michael’s lip, breaking the skin slightly.

 

Michael tested the spot with his tongue, feeling a little sting but not tasting any blood.

 

He and Joey curled up on the couch for a few minutes, kissing softly and frisking with hands. Eventually Joey climbed over Michael, pulled up his pants, and retreated into the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and wiped down the mess from Michael’s body and from himself.

 

Michael snuck in another giddy kiss before starting to slide his pants back up. Will would probably kill him for coming back to Joey’s place, but it was worth it.

 

“Sorry.” Joey reached out and ran his thumb along Michael’s bottom lip, stilling over the small bite.

 

Michael brushed his tongue over the tip of Joey’s thumb. “It’s fine.”

 

“It’s almost dinner time for you, isn't it?” Joey pointed out and snaked his arms around Michael’s waist.

 

Michael dug his phone out of his pants pocket to check the time. “Hell.” He wiggled away from Joey and grabbed his shirt. “Yeah. I’m supposed to be back by six-thirty for dinner.”

 

Joey made a pout face and found his own shirt, too. “I’ll drive you home then.”

 

They held hands on the way down to Joey’s car and started the drive back to Michael’s house. Joey dropped him off outside after a quick kiss inside the car. Michael was a few minutes late for dinner and got a nasty look from Will.

 

“What were you two doing?” Will asked.

 

“At the mall,” Michael groaned and started to sniff out the kitchen for food.

 

“It’s in the oven; it’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Will admitted.

 

“So it’s not a big deal that I’m late, then,” Michael teased and poured himself a glass of milk.

 

“Depends.” Will frowned when Michael turned to him. “What happened to your lip?”

 

“What do you think happened to my lip?” Michael smirked before hiding behind the glass of milk. Will just rolled his eyes.

Copyright © 2011 Damond; 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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