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Shousetsu Bang*Bang
Issue 26: Schoolboys

Edited by Shousetsu Bang*Bang
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Shousetsu Bang*Bang

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Shousetsu Bang*Bang Issue 26 is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License

Based on a work at http://shousetsubangbang.com

Table of contents

Foreign Exchange, by Cendri and Drakonlily

Unwound, by Frostfire

Welcome Back, Class of 1990, by shukyou (主教),

illustrated by aerie

Strength, Gallantry, and Other Useless Bits, by Ogiwara Saki (荻原咲),

illustrated by jellomix

Caught in a Rush, by Kuroobaa (クローバー)

Best Laid, by Domashita Romero (地下ロメロ),

illustrated by safelybeds

Almonds and Chocolate, by Morita Kuniko (森田邦子)

How a Year Can Break a Heart (Or Just Before the End, What Do You See?), by backlit_fiction

Coping, Patience, and Reward, by Phail,

illustrated by beili

New Year’s (お正月), written and illustrated by MYŌGADANI Mōra (茗荷谷 望裸)

Sparkle or Bust, by bupparo,

illustrated by llyse

Kids, by Yamanashi Moe (山梨もえ),

illustrated by _reirei

Let It Snow, by Hashinaka Choko (橋中蝶子)

No One Said It Would Be Easy, by Kikuchi Makoto (菊池 誠)

Rules of the Game, by Azia C. Ita

Look at the World from a New Perspective, by Calex

Love to an 80s Soundtrack, by Oneira

Little America, by Tsukizubon Saruko (月図凡然る子)

MISSING, by Yuite Dio (神莠射手)

And Then, by Pullus Dentibus

A Souvenir, by Bluejuice (青液)

Front cover by image by serenity_winner

Edited and published by the Shousetsu Bang*Bang editorial staff. Read more about this issue at http://www.shousetsubangbang.com/wiki/index.php?title=Issue_26

Foreign Exchange

by Cendri and Drakonlily

Liam Conway was practically raised on American Westerns. His mother had been a fan of one actor in particular, a man that rarely spoke in his films but radiated a self-assurance that had made her and his sister swoon. He remembered gathering around the telly and catching the marathons on just the right channel.

Though he wasn’t as vocal or as visible as them, perhaps he swooned a bit too. While he knew to some extent that it wasn’t real–particularly the parts with the Indians, which always made him a tad uncomfortable–he had always hoped that America was full of tall handsome cowboys.

If the airport where he’d landed was any indication, he’d been sorely mistaken.

Liam had done the research when selecting his exchange school. Arizona might not have been exactly his first choice, but they were supposed to have rodeos, which was where the modern cowboys were suppose to gather. So far all he’d seen were what appeared to be tourists and a couple of rather cranky looking businessmen.

“Liam?”

He looked over and saw a shorter woman with dark curly hair. That had to be his host mother, Mrs. Bosvitz. A couple of smaller dark haired children were in tow, as well, peering over at him curiously.

“Hello Mrs. Bosvitz. I am so glad to be staying with you.”

Maybe he’d see a few cowboys in school. Maybe.

Kyle wasn’t the sort to argue much. When his mother said that she could only take his three younger siblings with her to pick up the exchange student he agreed. All Kyle knew was that he was British and that was only because his brother Richard was currently on the way to England. What Kyle knew about England was the basic fare for a young man his age–that was to say that he had a year of European History. That and he liked to watch European football.

So when he was told that they would be getting a British exchange student, Kyle immediately hoped for a blond, handsome footballer with a charming accent. He recalled one of his mother’s friends in New York, extremely intelligent and worldly. Alan had always been kind to Brandon, and emailed him regularly. Of course, the much older man would have balked at Kyle’s inner thought process though he did give good advice for breaking up with your boyfriend.

Both of his parents had been accomplished artists before they chose to leave New York and start a family. They still worked occasionally. His father sold paintings on a regular basis and his mother would intermittently play piano for weddings or socialite parties. While they made sure that Kyle and his four siblings were all well versed in things like art and music they never personally attended the more elite venues in town. His mother simply said she was over it.

It left Kyle without the object of his sexual fantasies and working on a ranch. Not that he minded, the animals were something to be passionate about. All of their horses had alcohol names, mostly to keep a simple account of all their breeding stock. His favorite was a gelding named Bourbon that he was exercising while he waited to see if this exchange student would be what he expected.

Mrs. Bosvitz was an exuberant woman, and Liam struggled to pay attention to the various things she rambled about the area while wedged in between her children in the back seat of the pickup truck. Liam was not used to a lot of car travel to begin with and there was a novelty to riding in a pickup truck in the American countryside.

“You seen many horses in England?”

The oldest looking one, a girl, had finally spoken to him. She’d seemed the most curious about him, but then, she didn’t seem more than a couple years younger than him. It made Liam a little nervous.

“Of course, I used to jump, as a part of the equestrian team…” he trailed off, looking around and realizing that they owned a somewhat large ranch estate.

“Oh good! You’ll like ours then. Maybe you can go with Kyle!”

“Kyle?”

“My eldest, besides the one we traded you for,” Mrs. Bosvitz replied, turning the wheel of the pickup and then bringing the vehicle to a stop. She pointed towards a fenced ring, and Liam squinted as he followed one of the younger kids out of the backseat.

He saw the horse first, a rather nice gelding with a chestnut coat, running the inside perimeter of the ring. Liam followed the line of the tether attached to the horse’s harness, which terminated in a young man’s hand.

A tall, lean young man, wearing jeans and a slightly dirty white tee shirt. Liam watched as he coaxed the horse around verbally, and even at the distance he was, could see how his dark hair tended to fall in his eyes, which might have been blue…

“Bourbon’s a real pretty horse, huh?” It was the girl again, snapping him out of whatever trance state he seemed to have fallen into while watching Kyle.

“Oh, yes, very handsome animal, that one.”

She gave him a big smile and grabbed his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’re staying!”

As he followed the girl into the house, he couldn’t help but wonder how Kyle would look in a proper cowboy hat.

Kyle was grateful to be busy, because from what he saw, he was going to be distracted. The newcomer had shaggy blond hair that was just long enough to grip in a fist, but not long enough to tie back. While Kyle had only seen from a slight distance, it appeared that his fantasies might start involving someone more his own age.

After he kicked off his boots, Kyle walked into the kitchen where his mother was busy making a list. She glanced up at him and sighed. “Are ya sure ya’ll be alright alone, Kyle?”

“Ma, I’m fine, really. We’ll be good, no parties and wild ladies.”

She rolled her dark eyes. “Well, I’m makin’ sure that you two boys have all the food and the like you’ll need. I can’t believe the show comes up so early this year. Poor planning.” As she remembered something, his mother scribbled it down on the pad. “An’ we’ll be gone for two weeks, so I’m leaving you in charge of looking after Liam. Boy’s too skinny.”

He didn’t look too skinny from Kyle’s short perspective. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go up and say hi.” At the bottom of the stairs was the laundry room. Kyle peeled his shirt off and tossed it in. He didn’t want to brag, but the ranch work had been good to him. Being shirtless was also a good way to judge if he’d be barking up the wrong tree, Kyle supposed. That and it smelled like a barnyard. He really needed a shower.

When Kyle opened the door to his bedroom he finally got a good look at Liam. The Englishman was really quite attractive. High cheek bones, sunny hair, and freckled skin complimented a slim build and a nice ass that caught his attention. “Hello there, I’m Kyle. Pleased ta meetcha.” He offered up a hand to his new roommate.

Liam seemed on a delay hearing him, but blinked and quickly shook Kyle’s hand. “Liam Conway. Are… you also occupying this room?”

One thing could be said, that was a really nice accent. Kyle’s eyes narrowed a bit appreciatively and he smirked. He’d have to write his brother Richard a letter that said ‘Stay in England please’. To Liam’s question he nodded. “Yup, with five of us, we had to double up the guys. Bridgey’s got her own room, but Rich and I share. You make yerself at home though.” Kyle walked over to the dressers and closet that Richard usually used and opened them. “He left you room.”

“Oh, I’m not put out by sharing, I was just curious.” Liam seemed a little on the nervous and apologetic side in Kyle’s summation. “That was nice of him to give me a little space like that. I forgot to do that at my house, but I’m sure my mum’s set Richard up well.” Liam shifted his weight a bit, and looked distractedly out the window.

“Anythin’ I can getcha?” Kyle offered. “I’m gonna take a shower so’s not to smell the room up.” He began to pick up what he hoped were his most attractive pajamas.

“No, I think I’m good. I’ll just go and get situated.” Liam slipped out of the room quickly, almost skittishly.

It was probably nerves with being in a new country and all, Kyle reasoned. He figured he’d take a long shower and give Liam some space to get settled. He was going to attempt to not pay too much attention to the other young man’s rather nice physicality in the open, but it was something to think about in the shower.

Liam had managed no embarrassing walking in on Kyle while he was in any other state of undress. It had thrown him off balance to see the cowboy up close for the first time without a shirt on, but he had seemed rather nice. His eyes were indeed the blue he’d thought they were.

But he had to stop thinking about that. Liam was following a perky blonde girl named Sandy who talked too fast as she showed him around the halls of the school he was going to be attending. Her short skirt flounced as she walked, but he found himself staring at the walls, trying to take in the place so he wouldn’t become lost.

“So you’re staying with Kyle Bosvitz?”

“Huh? Oh, yes. The Bosvitz family, indeed.”

“He’s really nice. You’re so lucky!”

Liam pictured what he looked like when he first saw him, just back from running his horse, a little sweat glistening off his muscular chest… and went a little pink.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I mean, we’re totally over that Revolutionary War thing around here. It’s not like the East Coast or anything.”

He really hoped she was not indicative of the education system as a whole, considering. The days would be extremely long if that was the case.

Kyle had been less than interested in practice today. His new roommate was pretty much on the forefront of his mind. Admittedly, Kyle didn’t exactly have the first idea as to how to seduce someone. Sam had quite literally fallen on his lap drunk at a party. Their relationship had focused solely on having sex around the barn and then arguing about Sam’s issues with being rich. It had been a very shallow and wrong relationship and Kyle learned that quickly.

Where Sam was brash and rude and arrogant, however, Liam seemed quiet and shy. In fact he was almost nervous with his wide blue eyes and softly freckled skin. His face was expressive and his voice was deceptively deep and cultured. Kyle’s mind wandered to the way Liam’s face and voice might react to —

“Bosvitz! You’re supposed to THROW the ball, son!”

Kyle snapped back to reality and practice went smoothly ’til– “Kyle!” The voice was sing-songy and distinctly female. Kyle heard his teammates making appreciative noises and thus confirmed his suspicions that his “girlfriend” was sitting on the bleachers watching him. He didn’t have time to wave, however and danced backwards after catching the football.

“Fine, I’ll just kiss Liam!”

Liam was there? Kyle turned his head immediately to see the wind start to tussle his roommate’s shaggy hair. And then, at that moment, Kale’s shoulder connected with his chest and his head banged rather roughly against first Kale’s helmet and then onto the ground.

Everything had taken on a sort of hazy white glow. He could only make out the heads of his teammates at first. Then, like the heavens parting, he could see Liam.

“Oh, you look like you need a doctor…”

Who was shirtless. Everyone else seemed to disappear as he descended, stopping until their noses were almost touching.

“Would you like for me to check you out?”

Liam’s hand slid down his own chest first, as if to demonstrate, stopping right before it got interesting. He leaned in, flicking his tongue along Kyle’s ear.

“SON, how many fingers do ya see?!”

Of course, it had to be a dream. Kyle cursed to himself and answered. “I’m fine.” Of course, he fell down and knocked his skull in front of the object of his every sexual desire. That was the last thing he thought about when Kyle was thinking about sexy. He heard the coach say something about going home.

The next thing he heard was “you sure?” It was Sandy who was kneeling beside him, her short skirt flitted about the grass. “Liam, can you be a dollface, help him? I’mma get his truck.” She leaned in and pecked Liam on the cheek.

“Certainly.” Liam began to help Kyle to his feet while Sandy was getting the truck. “You can lean on me, that was quite a bop you took.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Had worse.” That was in part true. Kyle had fallen off of horses and bulls before though that wasn’t in front of someone he’d wanted to become naked with later. Liam probably thought that Kyle was a moron.

Sandy pulled the truck up to the track that surrounded the field before Liam could press further. “My bag’s in the front, you two get the back!” She tossed her blonde hair and smiled. “When we get ta my place, I hope you can drive Kyle.”

She did live between his house and school. Kyle climbed slowly into the bed of his own truck and flopped onto his back in the extended bed. He assumed Liam would climb up next to him.

“Is this strictly legal? There are no harnesses back here,” Liam protested a bit, but climbed in anyway.

“Well you gotta make sure Kyle won’t fall asleep and never wake up. Ya want that on yer conscience?”

He frowned at her and then looked over at Kyle with some concern.

“All right.”

The ride was rather bumpy, and Liam had knocked into Kyle numerous times. He didn’t quite see the logic of not letting the injured man be somewhere more, well, safe, but he tried his best to be a good barrier. Kyle didn’t seem to mind, thankfully.

“Are you certain that driving is fine for you?”

“Of course, Sandy jus’ makes a fuss whenever I get knocked about.”

The cars were on the wrong side of the road, perhaps it was a good thing he didn’t volunteer to take over. Without Sandy’s bags taking up the front seats, they could at least sit like civilized people. It was a bit awkward, so Liam was thankful that the drive ended quickly.

“Would you like for me to carry your things?” Well, pads. American football sadly added too much unnecessary bulk to its players, taking away from their natural athleticism. If Kyle were a proper footballer… well it was a good image.

“Jus’ leave ‘em. I was thinkin’ a workin’ on some chores… ya can help there.”

By ‘chores’ Liam assumed that he’d be donning an apron and walking around with a duster. But apparently when one was on a ranch chores meant heading straight for the barn. “Ya comin’ Lee?”

Lee? It took Liam a moment before he realized that Kyle had been talking to him. He turned and an apology hung on his lips, but fell short. Kyle had once again taken his shirt off and was standing there in low slung jeans, a hat to ward off the sun and a water hose.

His Protestant upbringing made him wonder if this was a test or a reward for… something.

“Oh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “What do you need me to do?”

All he really needed was a lasso and a six-shooter and Kyle was a living and breathing wet dream. Not that Liam’s brain had ever thought of a way to proceed should he ever meet said wet dream. For now he would just try not to look brain damaged.

Kyle smiled and tossed him a tan hat. “Here ya may getcher nose burnt otherwise.” So the cowboy hats claimed to have a purpose other than ‘be sexy’. This was interesting knowledge. Kyle then turned the hose on and dropped the end into a trough that ran along the length of the barn. “It’s not a whole lot. We need to give everyone some hay an’ water ’em. Make sure no one looks hurt. If ya want, we could go for a ride after dinner?” Did the expression on Kyle’s face change into a sort of predatory smirk or was Liam imagining it. Maybe it was the contrast of his dark hair and sharply blue eyes.

“Oh, I would love to go for a ride.” Well, now he sounded a bit too enthusiastic. Wasn’t that Sandy girl his girlfriend or something? Maybe it was some kind of way of sniffing out poofs for ridicule.

No, Kyle didn’t seem the cruel type.

And there was a practical reason for the shirtlessness. After spending time under the sun, the barn was downright stifling. It hadn’t taken them long to ‘water’ the horses, but the hay they were looking for to feed them resided indoors. Liam wasn’t comfortable ridding himself of his entire upper vestments, but he was all right unbuttoning it most of the way.

“Up here, in the loft.”

He followed Kyle up a ladder, and found himself having to crouch down along the side before the ceiling became tall enough to stand under. Squared bales of hay were stacked up all around them. Liam took one look at them and sneezed.

“Sorry, I think I…” Liam sneezed again, “have a reaction.”

Kyle gave him a devilish look. “Reaction huh?”

Liam had lived the majority of his life in an urban area… he didn’t figure that his cowboy fantasies would have a hitch like allergies. He turned to go back down the ladder, perhaps to go inside and become very good friends with a box of tissues when he felt something soft yet scratchy hit the side of his head.

“What was that?!”

Kyle reached down and picked up another handful of hay and more obviously threw it at him.

Liam made a strangled sort of sound that was caught between shock and a laugh. Throwing hay? Wasn’t that a little childish? Regardless, he picked up a handful himself and pelted it across at Kyle. It wasn’t as though they didn’t need to break the bale up anyway; it was scattered into a hopper system that rode along a pulley to dump into the stalls.

“Hey! Who said ya were supposed ta throw?” There was something charming about that accent, Liam would have to admit. It fit, even though it also butchered the language they both shared. Kyle lobbed a larger section of the hay at Liam.

This time, however, Liam dodged. “Ha, you missed me.”

From where he was kneeling in the hay, Kyle’s eyes narrowed. His smile was thin and nearly a smirk. He didn’t say anything.

Liam felt oddly hunted. He also felt more than a little thrilled at the notion. “Giving up?” So he goaded, because he was curious as to what his host would do.

Instead of taunting back, Kyle lunged at Liam from across the loft, his long arms were helpful in tackling Liam to the piles of hay. Obviously the head injury wasn’t serious, for they both went down with a fair amount of force and Liam noticed no ill side effects.

Of course, he was on his back in a bunch of hay, with Kyle on top of him now. He wrinkled his nose to suppress the sneeze he knew was coming.

“I guess I… concede defeat?”

Kyle moved, almost in slow motion, a bit of hay from Liam’s cheek. If a doctor were to take his pulse at that moment, they were likely to think that Liam was on speed. Something in that small motion had caused Liam’s brain to stop producing rational thoughts, because the only response he could think of was to lean up and kiss Kyle so hard he practically bit his lip.

The nearly sharp little prick on the bottom of Liam’s lip made him wonder if he’d actually bitten it by accident. When Liam realized that the nip had come from Kyle his eyes went wide and a choking sound worked its way from his mouth.

Kyle adjusted himself, raising up on his arm and knees. “Sorry, didja mind?” The question was breathy when asked.

The voice that Liam heard was his own, though it sounded very far away. “You just startled me.”

“So can I kiss ya again?”

“God, yes.” Well, so much for playing it smooth. Considering that Kyle responded and seemed to want to continue meant it really didn’t matter.

Kyle made a half growling sound and closed the distance between them again with his eyes pressed shut. His mouth covered Liam’s and one hand laced into Liam’s hair while the other one held his weight on the boards of the loft. Kyle adjusted slowly, pressing himself against Liam fully before he worked his knees between the other young man’s legs. Once more stable, his hand moved from supporting his weight to working on the buttons Liam had left together on his shirt.

Liam momentarily was reminded of his last experience, which had also been rather spur of the moment. Only it had been in his room at school and Kyle already was showing a desire for more than a quick handjob and keeping hush about it. He decided the best way to reward this was to help him with the fly on his jeans, making sure to carefully brush his hand along the front before working the zipper.

That earned a line of pleased cursing from Kyle. He nipped at the bottom of Liam’s lip again, tugging softly before he moved down to the crook of his neck. Kyle’s tongue was slick against his collarbone and left a trail that cooled in the Arizona heat down his chest. He stopped working his way down and tugged sharply at Liam’s hair when his tongue traced Liam’s left nipple. His teeth tugged softly once again before he let go of Liam’s hair. This meant that Kyle slid down to Liam’s stomach, soft tongue and playing sharp teeth flicked against his sides.

It was rough when Kyle tugged at Liam’s pants, exposing hip bone before his hand fished in Liam’s jeans. Kyle’s breath was hot on his cock and his calloused hands were firm at his hips.

“KYLE! You and Liam up there?! Ma wants ya ta wash up fer dinner!”

Kyle made an exasperated sound, which considering where his mouth was currently meant that Liam’s frustration was a bit delayed. If not for Bridget’s voice it would have been easy for him to get off right there.

“I suppose we should ah…” Liam said softly.

“Don’t make me come up there!”

Kyle was quick to remove his mouth then. Liam quickly pulled his pants back up.

“Five minutes, ok?”

Dinner had been a flurry of activity. Kyle’s mother was discussing travel plans with his father and the younger three children were bouncing in their seats. It meant that no one noticed how awkward Kyle felt. He hadn’t meant to go that far with his advance on Liam. Actually, he hadn’t expected Liam to respond at all. The fact that Liam had encouraged him in that breathy tone did nothing but cloud Kyle’s head and make it impossible for him to focus. Not only was he seriously frustrated, Kyle’s mind was racing with a million questions: Was Liam just caught up in the heat of the moment? Was he out at home? Was England secretly a breeding ground of the sexiest gay men to walk the earth? Maybe England wasn’t like the south and being gay wasn’t that big of a deal…

Though they never discussed it, he was fairly open with his family. Despite the Jewish upbringing, he never really felt like he could do anything to make his parents hate him. His mother had done one worse by marrying an Irish-Catholic, she would remind him jokingly. They weren’t expressly religious, really. Still, though he suspected that his parents were aware, he never openly said much of anything. His father had expressed, weeks after Kyle and Sam broke up, that he never liked Sam much and he was glad the ‘idiot’ wasn’t about any longer. They had left it at that.

“All right” his father said with finality. “Let’s get this artwork stored up so we can get a move on in the morning.” He pushed back from the chair and picked up his dish. “We won’t be staying long after the show, so you two be good.”

Kyle nodded, standing in a similar manner. He liked that his parents were both artistic, usually Kyle didn’t mind going to shows, but he couldn’t afford to miss two weeks of practice at the end of his Junior year. He’d help get everything packed up, shower, and hopefully Liam wouldn’t be uncomfortable being alone in a room with him.

Liam had been able to keep from looking at Kyle throughout dinner, and had offered to help Mrs. Bosvitz with the dishes in order to avoid the issue. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it, but he hadn’t expected his thoughts would translate into reality that quickly. And he was nervous to think about what could happen without the buffer of his host parents and the younger siblings…

Eventually, he ran out of helpful things to do and it was time to head up to his shared room. He stopped and took a deep breath before entering the room. Kyle was laying on his bed with his back to the door. Headphones were over his head and the wire was plugged into his laptop. He was reading.

Liam could have, probably should have stopped looking there. However he now couldn’t help but notice that Kyle’s pants were low enough to show off the band of his boxers and that those boxers were a deep emerald green color. Kyle’s t-shirt pulled across his shoulders and to be honest, this was not a bad angle at all on him.

With the headphones on, he probably didn’t even hear Liam come in. So Liam sat down on his bed, sighed, and looked Kyle over again.

“I’m not even sure that happened…” he muttered to himself, and flopped down properly on the bed, taking his eyes off of that exposed emerald green and stared up at the ceiling.

It was a moment before he realized that Kyle was talking to him. “So ah… about earlier…”

Liam bit his lip. “I’m sorry. I mean, if it made you uncomfortable…” He really hoped that wasn’t the case, because it would be really nice to pull that teeshirt off him.

Kyle laughed and then rolled onto his back. He was propped up on his elbows and looked Liam up and down in that same sort of predatory look he had in the barn. “An’ here I thought I was makin’ you uncomfortable. You didn’t mind?”

“No, I don’t mind.” Was there a special hell for horny exchange students?

If there was, maybe it’d be worth it. Slowly, Kyle started sitting up. Somehow he was making his way across the room to Liam. It barely registered to Liam, whose eyes were locked with those bright blue ones. When Kyle spoke again, they were suddenly close. When did he get so close?

Kyle’s hands were on either side of Liam’s hips, his nose was close. “Ya don’t got a boyfriend at home who’ll get pissed atcha do ya?”

Boyfriend? “Huh?” He didn’t have one, but if he did, at this point he didn’t really care. “No, I don’t. I’m pretty free.” This was apparently the right answer, because Kyle’s face lit up.

Liam decided to give into the thought of pulling that t-shirt off of him, and tugged at the end until Kyle got the hint.

He wasn’t quite certain what to expect next, but Kyle seemed to have an idea. The other young man ripped the shirt off and cast it to the floor. In a fast, smooth movement Kyle tackled Liam to the bed. One of his hands was at the small of Liam’s back while the other was propping Kyle’s body up. Kyle’s mouth covered Liam’s. A slight adjustment settled Kyle between Liam’s legs and a little growl escaped against Liam’s lips before he pulled closer.

This didn’t involve cowboy hats, but it was probably a better idea, considering he wouldn’t have hayfever issues in here and ruin the mood.

And the mood was certainly a good one. Liam’s hands settled on Kyle’s hips, and he arched up towards him while he explored Kyle’s mouth. The hand on the small of his back dug in as the kisses became more urgent, and Liam realized he’d made a somewhat pleading sound deep in his throat.

Kyle broke away from Liam’s mouth and buried his nose against Liam’s neck. He thrust his hips forward to grind against Liam and growled into his ear. “I want to suck you off.” Though it was phrased as a question for permission, there was something in Kyle’s tone that was nearly authoritarian.

To accent his point, the hand at Liam’s back slid down into Liam’s pants line and groped at his ass. Kyle once again nipped at Liam’s lower lip before his mouth moved down to his neck.

“Yes, you… do that. Please.” So maybe his sexytalk could use a little–a lot–of work. He was clearly doing something right though, because Kyle kept moving downward, Without the hips to hold onto, Liam tangled his fingers in Kyle’s dark hair and concentrated on the ceiling, hoping that he could keep from coming too soon.

A quick zip and a tug and Kyle had him partially out of his pants, enough room for Kyle to run his tongue along the tip of Liam’s cock before he covered it with his mouth. Liam no longer worried about whether or not he could handle it, and started purring. Kyle slid his hand further into Liam’s pants and rubbed his thumb gently at his base. Liam’s hands grabbed at Kyle’s thick hair when Kyle’s mouth slid down to meet his hand.

Kyle made an appreciative sound and that final growl in his throat sent Liam over the edge. In an effort to keep his voice down, Liam exclaimed in a harsh whisper. He pulled at Kyle’s hair but even after he was finished it was difficult to think straight. Kyle swallowed and made his way back up, nipping at Liam’s chest and ear before he flopped to his side next to Liam. He had an extremely accomplished look on his face.

“You’re quite good at that.” Well that certainly sounded stupid. What Liam really wanted to say was something suave, smooth, perhaps give off an impression that he was the worldly and sophisticated kind of European.

Kyle smiled brightly at Liam and settled down on the bed. “I aim to please.” Those blue eyes had an appreciative sort of glint to them. He looked a bit nervous himself, as though he wanted to say or ask something but couldn’t figure out how to get it out. “So, ah… now what?” Did Kyle blush a little? It was hard to tell when they were both a little flushed.

“Well, ah, I could do that for you?” Liam however, was probably red, and thankful they were flushed. “Unless there was something else you wanted?”

Like most boys that had gone to his boarding school back in England, Liam had spent more time fantasizing than actually having relations. His scattered encounters with a rather athletic rugby player had mostly been guided by him, instead of up to Liam. It wasn’t like he could discuss his technique when he was being bent over a sink in the lavatory or biting his tongue so he wouldn’t make too much noise after lights out.

He idly played with Kyle’s hair. Liam might as well enjoy the close contact with a cowboy before he got mad at his lack of initiative. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to try a thousand different positions and situations with Kyle. But imagining doing something and knowing were two different things.

Kyle swallowed and worried his lip with his teeth. Was he nervous too? “Ah, never really done that off the fly before.” He cleared his throat and laughed. “You know how this goes like differently in yer head and then you’re there and you sort of freeze up?” Yes, he actually was blushing. “I’m… tryin’ ta say something but the wording’s all wrong.” He took a deep breath and then continued. “So I suppose saying I’d like you to get naked and ride me till we can’t think straight sounds kinda dumb?”

Dumb? Liam only hesitated for a second before kissing him. “No, that doesn’t sound dumb.” He tugged at Kyle’s pants, helping him to achieve the first objective of his suggestion.

Kyle growled and kicked his pants off before he got on his knees. His hands busily worked at Liam’s clothes and he kissed his lips, his neck, and nipped his shoulders. The clothes shed into a mixed pile on the floor, Liam’s shirt, Kyle’s pants, and an odd sock were tangled up before they fell back down to the bed. Kyle pulled Liam over him and let his hands drift down his back, to his hip and lower before they settled on his bum.

Kyle bucked his hips up slightly and pulled Liam closer.

Feeling Kyle’s very hard cock brush his thigh brought Liam back to thinking, and reality. He’d had enough experience to know that physics would not allow this whole riding thing to happen without a little help with the friction.

“Kyle? Where’s ah… you know?”

Kyle’s fingers were very much busy with certain parts of Liam’s anatomy and he took a moment before stopping. “My…” He then got very still. “…oh… ah…right.” He half sat up and placed a hand on Liam’s shoulders. He was in serious concentration for a moment before Kyle’s face brightened. “Yeah. The dresser.” He attempted to not pitch Liam off of his lap while he reached up and craned his arm around to rummage in the drawer.

“Oh I can help,” Liam said, reaching around and groping at nothing before his hand found a plastic bottle.

Kyle seemed amused. Liam felt a lot less nervous with Kyle’s attitude being as laid back as it was. Maybe he didn’t have very experienced partners that made Liam look like an amateur. Instead of saying anything, Kyle began to nibble at Liam’s side, just at the ticklish spot on his hip.

Liam tried to chuckle instead of the slightly high giggle that came out. “Hey, watch that!” He grabbed his wrist, to make a point, even if it was his mouth that was causing the offensive behavior. “You need to prepare, if this is going where you want it.” Now he sounded like a school teacher, scolding an unruly student. Which wasn’t a bad image really…

He snapped out of it, let go of the wrist and decided to take the matter of lubrication into his own hands. Literally. Liam might have squeezed out a bit much of the stuff, but safety was important in these sorts of things. Once his hands had a sizeable amount on them, he twisted so that he could reach down to Kyle’s cock, and gave it a couple slow strokes until he thought it was coated well enough.

Liam obviously did well, considering the groan that Kyle gave.

“I … goddamn.” Kyle’s groan turned into a snarl and he gripped Liam’s hips. “Getting bossy?” He asked, still amused. Using his hands on Liam’s hips he slowly guided Liam into position and then carefully entered.

Liam leaned down and back, careful to keep his balance and stay relaxed. Getting bossy was a good thing, considering the tightness of Kyle’s fingers on his hips and pleased growl coming from his throat. The rocking was small at first, just a little to align properly, but the frequency became faster and the burn started to hurt in the good way.

“I can still… think straight,” Liam said wryly, and gasped when Kyle bucked.

Kyle managed to sit up and yanked down on Liam’s hips roughly. He bit at Liam’s shoulder and his hand groped between Liam’s legs. “I’m fixin’ that.” Liam slid up and down Kyle’s cock a few more times in that position before falling back. Liam’s legs wrapped around Kyle’s when his back hit the sheets. Kyle tottered a moment before he got back up to his knees and started thrusting harder against him.

“Cowboys can’t help… riding?” Of course, Liam could barely get the smart remark out between all the conflicting signals reaching his brain; a slight soreness in his shoulder from falling back like that, Kyle’s thrusting and a friction on his thighs. He arched his back to give Kyle more leverage.

Kyle himself had dissolved into muttered curses against Liam’s skin. He adjusted again and started to shake against Liam. “I’m-” everything started to drift off into mutters and growls. Sweat dripped down his nose and he started to shake. Kyle released in a soft exclamation before he sunk down on top on Liam, panting.

They both lay there, catching their breaths. Liam waited until his heart rate felt more normal before speaking.

“Giddyup.”

Kyle laughed. “That was… a lot a fun, but you didn’t wear a cowboy hat. In my fantasies you wore one.”

“That’s funny, so did you in mine.”

The morning was a sort of blur. Kyle was certain he had been dreaming. That it had been a wonderful fantasy even with his bumbling. But then his mom yelled goodbye at the door and he listened as the truck pulled away. He rolled over then and realized that Liam was curled next to him and that he hadn’t been dreaming. “Ah….” what did one say when they woke up with someone? There had to be something witty in his brain. Somewhere. “…hi?”

“Your mum is loud,” Liam muttered, almost crankily and pulled the covers over his head. Someone was clearly not a morning person. A thought occurred to Kyle; his family was going to be gone for a week.

Carefully, he reached under the bed until he found a notepad, with a pen stuck into the spiral and wrote down a list. When he was satisfied, he tapped Liam on the head with it.

“I want breakfast.” Liam groaned, still not fully awake.

“Sure. Got any plans this weekend?”

Liam peeked out from under the covers, now fully conscious and aware that they were still naked. “…Not so far.”

“Well here, any of this look fun?”

Liam took the notepad, and after a word or two his eyebrows shot up as he read it. He seemed to consider it for a while.

“I’m not opposed to being tied up, but what exactly does ‘doggy style’ mean?”

Unwound

by Frostfire

It’s freezing outside, and Austin’s building’s front door is like some sort of Nirvana, shining forth into the hardship and dusty toil of a Tuesday night. He’s walked twenty minutes from the library, where he spent six hours fighting with Cicero, until the Latin was swimming in front of his eyes. It takes two or three frustrating tries, numb fingers fumbling his keys, before he gets inside and breathes in warm air.

He makes for the stairs without even looking at the mailbox. Getting home has given him enough energy to jog up the first flight, but it fades pretty fast, and he takes the second at more of a trudge. He checks the time as he sorts through his keys again: eight forty-seven. Crap, he never had dinner, no wonder he feels so…extra-awful. He thinks about food, thinks that he’d maybe rather not.

The apartment looks cleaner than it did this morning. The door swings shut behind him, and he squirms out of his messenger bag, dumps it on the floor. He contemplates his boots, coat, gloves, scarves, hat.

“Hey.” Carlos peers out of the kitchen. “How’d it go today?”

Austin sighs, starts in on his bootlaces. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He doesn’t want to think about it, either; he’d rather linger over Latin modals, hunger, snowy weather, fatigue. Normal headaches.

Carlos takes that in. “I made pasta. And we have cookie dough.”

“Not hungry. Thanks, though.” The knots in his laces have picked up dirty slush; his fingers start to go numb again, picking them apart. He’s starting to think about just curling up right here in the entryway and giving up on life when the first one goes, and the second one’s easier. His coat gets dumped on a chair, scarf and gloves and hat tossed on top. The hat falls to the floor, and he leaves it.

“Seriously,” says Carlos. “You look like hell.” He’s hanging back, in the doorway to the kitchen. He’s wearing pajama pants and a Cubs hoodie, and he looks soft and warm and concerned. Austin thinks about resisting, going into the bedroom to be miserable by himself, but Carlos’ hair is falling into his eyes and his hoodie is unzipped enough to show his collarbone, and Austin stumbles a little, crossing the hallway to wrap himself around him.

“Hey,” says Carlos in his ear. “Tell me.”

“I can’t,” says Austin, “it’s too–I mean, Alex didn’t tell me to go home and quit or anything, but I have to completely rewrite half my arguments, he’s disappointed as hell, he thought I could do better–” he chokes. “And I couldn’t concentrate in class and it took me all evening to finish my Latin for tomorrow, I was in the basement of the library with Tool on my iPod and I had espresso beans for dinner, I hate my fucking life–”

He’s interrupted by Carlos’ mouth; Carlos’ hand is firm in his hair and the kiss is soft and deep. Austin shudders and opens his mouth and lets it happen.

“Come on,” says Carlos, pulling back. “Eat something, and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay,” says Austin. “Yeah.”

He eats some of Carlos’ reheated pasta, and Carlos pulls out a cookie sheet and spoon and dumps balls of Nestle chocolate chip dough onto it. “Thanks,” says Austin. “I was going to make those this week.”

“No problem,” says Carlos. “Lab’s been pretty quiet the last few days. My mice won’t have sex, so I’m sort of stuck for now.”

“It would be so great,” says Austin, “if I had to wait for the Greeks to write more texts before I could do any work.”

“Yeah,” says Carlos, “I have it so easy. Developmental biology, you know, it’s like majoring in communications or something.”

“If I had majored in communications,” says Austin, “I could have a real job right now. In an advertising department or something. Christ.”

Carlos is quiet, spooning out the last of the dough, waiting.

“It’s like being Sisyphus,” says Austin after a second. “I don’t know if I can take it.” He’s so tired of it, of impossible deadlines and nights in the library and exhaustion like a solid weight in his chest, of the way his body feels fizzy and unreal when he gives up on sleep and makes the day’s first cup of coffee at four AM.

Carlos is quiet for a second. “Second year is the hardest year,” he says eventually. He puts the cookies in the oven, sets the timer, comes over to Austin’s chair. Austin pushes back from the table, and Carlos sits down in his lap, heavy and comforting, holding him down. “You told me that, the department told you that. And I saw you when you were writing that paper, babe, you were ready to kill yourself every second. You don’t usually hate work that much.”

“I thought it would be a good topic,” Austin says into Carlos’ bicep. “I hate it now, though. I hate it so much.”

“But your advisor doesn’t want you to do it for a dissertation also or anything,” Carlos says.

Austin shakes his head against Carlos’ arm. He’s always so warm.

“So, you can get through this. I know you can.” Carlos drops a kiss on his head, soft and brief. “Four more weeks until it’s due. And you have all of spring break.”

“There’s just so much,” says Austin. “Translations, papers, thesis, work, finals–”

“Austin,” says Carlos. “Finish eating, come on.” He stands up, leaving Austin colder, lighter.

He takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I really try not to whine.”

“You’re not whining,” says Carlos. “But cold spaghetti is gross.”

Austin can’t argue with that, so he finishes. Carlos does some dishes; Austin feels guilty for not having done any dishes lately, then tells his subconscious to shut up and eat. The timer goes off, and Carlos pulls the cookie sheets out of the oven, lets them cool for a minute, transfers the cookies to a couple of plates.

“You done?” Carlos asks.

Austin sets his fork down. “Yeah.”

Carlos takes his plate and goes to rinse it out in the sink. Austin slumps down in his chair and tries not to think about the eighty-seven thousand things he has to do. Alex gave him a short list of sources he’d missed, and only one of them is in English, so that’s going to take some doing. He has to spend some time on the paper for Lisa’s Roman military seminar before this weekend. He has work tomorrow afternoon, so his Greek translation is going to have to wait until after five–

Carlos’ arms come around him from behind, and he leans his head back, letting his eyes fall closed. Carlos kisses him upside-down, gently, and tugs him up out of the chair.

The bedroom is cleaner than it was this morning, too; Carlos must not have been kidding about the mice, because he only cleans by himself when he’s bored. Austin is momentarily, viciously jealous, but then Carlos kisses the back of his neck, and he can only be glad that they aren’t both freaking out at the same time. When Carlos is stressed to the breaking point, he’ll slump down in a chair and just cry silently, and it can take hours to pull him out of it.

Now, though, Carlos is unbuttoning Austin’s shirt, pulling it off, going for his jeans. Austin steps out of his pants and his boxers and waits, trying to forget about it all, about the whole fucking Classics department–and then Carlos takes Austin’s wrists in his hand, gently but seriously, holding them together. Austin breathes out, and when Carlos steps away, he keeps his hands behind his back.

The leather against his skin makes him close his eyes; Carlos snaps the wrist cuffs shut and hooks them together. “Comfortable?” he says into Austin’s ear.

Austin tugs at them. “Yeah.” He wishes they weren’t, almost, wishes Carlos would pull his arms back far enough to hurt. But this is good all by itself. He already feel s a little clearer.

“Turn around,” he says, and when Austin does, “Kneel down for me.”

The thump when he hits the carpet does hurt, a little. He swallows and looks up. Carlos’ hands are at his waistband; Austin waits for it. Carlos strips off his pants and reaches down to tilt Austin’s face up, thumb against his jaw. Austin lets his mouth fall open, tongue against his bottom lip, and Carlos’ cock bumps against his cheek, his lips, and slides into his mouth.

Austin lets him push in, keeps still until Carlos decides he’s in far enough, and then he flattens his tongue against the underside of Carlos’ dick and sucks. Carlos sighs above him, and Austin tongues along the shaft, sucks harder, pulls back a little to lick around the head and then goes back down, farther, swallowing around it. He can feel himself relaxing, unwinding, things starting to slip out of his head. He pulls a little against the cuffs, just to feel them there.

“That’s good,” Carlos whispers; his hand is carding through Austin’s hair, fingers light and warm. Austin swallows again; his eyes are watering. It is good. He’s always liked this, having something in his mouth. He tilts his head a little further back, silent invitation.

“Not yet,” says Carlos. “Work a little harder, first.”

That stings, although he knows–vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind–that Carlos doesn’t mean it like that. But he licks down the shaft, pays some attention to Carlos’ balls, a little rougher than usual because he knows Carlos likes it like that sometimes. Down there, it feels hot and close, his cheeks against Carlos’ thighs, hair tickling his lips, all of it smelling like sex. He licks at Carlos’ inner thigh, mouths the slick skin, and pulls back in a long wide lick up the shaft of Carlos’ cock to the head. He takes it in his mouth, tongues the slit–the taste fills his mouth–and goes down again.

This time, Carlos takes a firmer hold of his hair and moves his hips forward; Austin shudders around him and relaxes his throat, and finally Carlos starts fuck his mouth. He’s not nice about it, fucking in quick, short strokes, making Austin’s throat burn and tears start to trickle out of the corners of his eyes. He gasps in air when Carlos pulls back, tries to lean forward and is held back by Carlos’ grip on his hair. It stings, and he sits back, panting. His wrists are hurting, although he doesn’t remember struggling at all.

“You’re doing so good, babe,” says Carlos; his voice is almost a whisper, and he’s jerking himself slowly with his free hand. “Breathe a little. You okay?”

He nods, watching Carlos’ hand. He curls his lower lips inward, runs his tongue over it; his mouth tastes like sex. He’s so hard, his dick aching, and that feels good, too.

“You’re so hot like this,” Carlos says, low and rough. “Your mouth, God. I love it when you suck me.”

That gets to him the way you’re doing good never quite does. It’s honest appreciation, real and serious praise: he’s fucking good at this. He grins a little, leans forward again, and this time Carlos lets him come, lets him lick around his fingers, run his tongue across the spot just under the head. Carlos groans and lets go of his cock, pulls Austin in with his other hand, and then it’s a series of quick thrusts, no time to breathe before he’s coming down Austin’s throat.

Austin swallows, thick and heavy, his mouth full of the salty-bitter taste of come. He licks his lips.

Carlos is panting above him; he reaches down and takes Austin’s arms, tugs him to his feet–Austin stumbles, and Carlos’ grip instantly gentles, holding him up. He leads Austin to the bed, sits him down, and drops to his knees on the carpet.

Austin moans when Carlos licks the head of his dick, hips jerking a little, trying not to move. Carlos pulls back and pauses, his tongue just barely outside his mouth, and Austin breathes, curls his fingers into fists behind his back and waits.

After an endless moment, Carlos dips his head again, and this time takes Austin’s cock all the way into his mouth. Austin hears himself make a choked, strangled noise; Carlos’ mouth is so hot, so soft and wet and perfect. His tongue slides along the underside, and Austin starts to pant, quick, whining breaths. Carlos brings a hand up to trace delicately over his balls, hold them in his palm, slip his finger back just far enough, and pleasure sparks up Austin’s spine.

Carlos keeps sucking, on and on and on until Austin thinks he might scream, it’s so good. When he comes, his eyes are shut and his head is back and his hips are pushing into Carlos’ mouth, his cock jerking into that endless wet heat. Carlos sucks him through it, sucks him into a trembling, oversensitive wreck, and then he stands up and kisses Austin’s mouth until it feels like he’s drowning in it.

When he pulls back, finally, Austin can’t take his eyes off of him, the curve of his cheek, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips red and shiny. Austin is panting and fucked-out, and he turns his head so he can see Carlos’ face even while he’s unsnapping the cuffs. He brings Austin’s hands around front, strokes his fingers over the red lines, rubs his arms right where the muscles are sore. “Okay, baby?” he says.

“Yeah,” says Austin. His voice is raspy. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He breathes. “Thanks.”

“One of these days you’ll believe me when I say: my pleasure.” Carlos nuzzles his hair, and Austin smiles. Carlos snags a tissue from the bedside table and does a quick once-over on both of their faces, and says, “Okay. Tired?”

Austin considers. “A little.”

“Okay. Hold on a second,” and Carlos steps back. Austin keeps the protesting noise down; Carlos is right there, he’s just taking the rest of his clothes off. Naked, he pulls Austin down onto the bed with him, arranges the sheets around them and tucks Austin against him. “Hang out here for a bit, maybe, and then if we’re still awake we can have cookies.”

“That sounds good,” says Austin, already starting to feel a little sleepy. More, though, he feels relaxed; Carlos has somehow managed to liquefy the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders, fry his brain to the point where he can’t remember why he was upset. It’s amazing. “Set the alarm,” he manages. “Have to get up early and…” he yawns, “do stuff.”

“Sure, baby,” says Carlos, and leans over to the alarm clock. “Seven okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and yawns again. Carlos curls back around him and brushes a kiss against the top of his head, and that’s the last thing he remembers.

Welcome Back, Class of 1990

by shukyou (主教)
illustrated by aerie

Being back was like someone had lifted all my skin just far enough away from my body to slip a layer of black pepper beneath, then tugged it back on so tight that it was all I could do not to claw myself bloody to get out. The hotel ballroom’s doors were decorated with flashing lights and a hand-painted sign that read TIME MACHINE, but stepping inside was less like traveling twenty years back, and more like being pushed twenty years closer to my inevitable death. It was the worst paranoia of a pot high mixed with the uncomfortable disorientation of being just this side of browning-out drunk, only without the positive side effects of either condition, and I was hit with a wave of panic so fierce that I might have bolted right then and there if a pair of tiny hands hadn’t spun me around and slapped the left side of my chest.

I looked down as her fingers pulled away and saw my jacket wearing a cheerful HELLO MY NAME IS sticker with Ryan Seiler printed below in distinctly feminine calligraphy. “Look at you!” she cried, and wrapped her arms around me in a fierce hug. It wasn’t until she pulled away that I could identify my assailant: Aileen Long (formerly Aileen Delgado), the ninety-eight pounds of terror that had sent out all the near-daily organizational emails over the past six months. “You haven’t changed a bit!”


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