DISCLAIMER
The fictional story you're about to read contains descriptions of a sexual nature that involve minors. If this subject matter is not for you then please don't read it! All characters and situations are fictional. Any similarity to real people or events is purely coincidental. Any comments, criticisms, or flames are to be sent to: create.inspire@hotmail.com
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The Ghastly Obscenities of Brady Jeston
Chapter Ten


By TurtleBoy



Mark stared directly into Brady's eyes. The strain was obvious as he attempted not to blink or even move. Brady, afraid to even breathe, studied his friend's expression, unsuccessfully trying to read his thoughts.

The mattress then gently shook and wiggled, but Brady paid it no attention. Instead, he just looked deeper into Mark's eyes. There was something different in his gaze now: still content with the moment, but now amused. At first, Brady wanted to question him, but he couldn't find the words.

Suddenly, as if by magic and without breaking eye-contact, Mark's hand slowly lifted upward. Before Brady could register what Mark was doing, he heard a strange slurping sound coming from Mark's lips. Brady's attention was immediately drawn to the can of apple juice, now pressed against Mark's mouth, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"How did you even get that in your hand?" asked Brady, as they both shared a giggle.

"I'm magic," Mark explained in all seriousness. "And a true magician never reveals his secrets."

Brady, keeping one eye on the magical can of juice, glanced toward the television, which was now back to displaying the main menu. "Should I put on the next movie?" he asked, looking again into Mark's eyes.

Mark shifted his eyes to their corners as he took a moment to think. "What's up next?"

"Resident Evil," recalled Brady, shifting his weight to the edge of the bed and slipping out of the blankets.

"Okay, but then come back here," said Mark. "If you sit back at the end of the bed I'll go nuts."

Brady nodded, his face slightly flush, and walked around the bed to the television. As he removed the disc from the Playstation, clearing his throat while sorting his thoughts, he turned back to face Mark while putting the DVD back in its case. Mark was staring back at him, his magical drink now sitting on the side table, with a slight smirk on his face.

"What?" asked Brady, as he reached for the next movie. Mark just shook his head and shrugged. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No." Mark smiled and sunk down into the bed, pulling the blankets up against his chin. "I'm just comfy."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Just because," replied Mark, grinning as he closed his eyes and held the blankets snugly to his jaw.

Pushing the movie into the Playstation, Brady turned back around and walked over to the bed. "How's your stomach? Does your back still hurt?"

Mark shook his head and opened his eyes. "No. I'm fine. I think my back is finally healing, and if I don't move too much then my tummy doesn't hurt at all."

Brady sat down on the bed and slid underneath the covers. "That's good. Maybe we'll be able to start running again soon."

Mark turned his head to face Brady, raising one eyebrow. "Running? I thought you hated running."

"I do," said Brady in all honesty. "But it feels good to be doing stuff again."

"So... You don't like watching movies with me?" teased Mark as he reached for the controller.

"Yeah, 'course I do."

"Then what's your problem?" asked Mark.

"Don't have one." Brady reached for his orange juice and took a sip. "Guess I was just trying to make conversation..."

"Brady?" said Mark, rolling onto his side and staring his friend right in the eyes. "Shut up," he said with a slight smile and, without knowing why, dropped his head and rested it against Brady's shoulder.

The contact made Brady's chest flutter and his stomach knot. He felt confused and content at the same time. The smell of Mark's hair, though unwashed, was fragrant with the slight scent of pears and wild flowers. Shivers rolled across his skin in a wave of sudden emotion, and he lowered his own face to Mark's hair.

There wasn't a noise between them, aside from the erratic strumming of their unsure hearts. A gentle whistle of breath escaped Mark's nostrils, and its warmth, penetrating Brady's shirt, heated his shoulder. Then came a whispered sigh from Mark's mouth as he slowly withdrew from Brady's unmoving embrace.

Their eyes, slowly opening in unison, met. Mark smiled as Brady stared back at him, expressionless, in obvious bewilderment. Then, Brady felt the lightest of sensations sliding up his forearm, from his wrist to elbow. Before he could think to look, Mark closed his eyes and leaned forward. With his head tilted slightly to the right, his lips gently made contact with Brady's.

The soft, warm feel of Mark's lips against his own gave birth to a whole new emotion. One that Brady could not explain. It was like all irrational and impossible thoughts had meshed together then rolled down his throat, only to become lodged deep in his chest. And the moist heat from Mark's motionless touch only caused the ball to swell.

An eternity seemed to have come and gone without a breath between the two, and just as Brady began to question his need for air, he felt Mark's lips pull away.

Unable to speak, the two stared at each other, both waiting for the other to say something. Instead, Mark smiled, sheepishly, and rolled himself around to face the television. Brady, stupefied, struggled to find his words.

"Where did that come from?" he finally asked.

Mark didn't reply.

"I thought you said you weren't..."

Mark turned himself to face Brady, staring him right in the eyes. "Brady?" he said with a thoughtful smile, "Shut up, will yuh?"

Realizing that Mark wasn't willing to talk, Brady tried to settle down, but he could still feel Mark's lips on his own. He could still smell his hair, and the lump in his chest was still throbbing with every rise and fall of his chest. Questions were still building by the second, but Mark showed no desire to answer them. Did they even need answering, though? Brady thought, while peering down at his friend. He wanted to be able to just accept what had happened, but something kept gnawing at his mind, seeking some form of confirmation.

"What?" asked Mark without looking back.

"Nothing." Brady slid down, lifting the covers up to his shoulder and holding his head up with his left hand.

Mark giggled and turned his head to look up at Brady. "It's really bugging you, isn't it?" he teased.

Brady looked down at him. "No," he lied.

Mark shifted himself so that he was now facing Brady and then mirrored his position, propping his head up with his right hand. "Then what's wrong?" he asked. "I thought you'd be happy."

"I am. It's just..." Brady broke eye contact with Mark and stared at the ruffled sheets.

"It's just, what?" asked Mark. "Do I really have to say it?" Brady shook his head. "Or should I just do this..." Mark leaned forward and pressed his lips against Brady's. This time, though, Mark had found more confidence, and allowed their contact more freedom, and gently pinched at Brady's lower lip.

Brady could feel that lump in his chest begin to grow again, causing a strange, dry pressure to build in his throat. With every heartbeat, he could feel the swelling rising deep inside of himself. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins, faster by the second. Until, suddenly, Brady realized what was happening.

Without warning, Brady broke their kiss, his face a deep shade of crimson, and turned away. Mark stared at him in surprise, almost offended. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Brady slowly shimmied his weight away from Mark, embarrassed and ashamed. "Nothing," he said again, avoiding Mark's questioning eyes.

"I thought..." It was then Mark realized what was wrong with his friend. If it weren't for Brady's backwards movement he may not have even noticed. But when Brady had attempted to flee, something had grazed against his hand. "Oh."

Both Mark and Brady blushed at the same time, unsure of what else to do.

"I'm sorry," said Brady, still avoiding Mark's eyes.

"It's okay," replied Mark. "Now we're even -- kinda."

"We are?" asked Brady, finally locking eyes with Mark.

"Well yeah. I mean, me with the Viagra and you with the... um... you, now."

Brady looked again, feeling awkward. "Right..."

"Uh -- let's just go back to the movie?" suggested Mark, turning back around before Brady could answer.




* * * * *



Before Brady knew it, Resident Evil ended. He had been swallowed whole by his thoughts and lost track of time. All he could recall of the last hour was Mark and how incredibly strange he was feeling.

By the time the credits finished and the main menu reappeared, Mark had already turned around to stare at Brady, waiting for him to get up and change discs. "Earth to Brady," Mark teased and nudged him on the arm.

"Huh?" asked Brady, feeling as if he had just been woken from a dream.

"The movie's over," Mark explained with a smile. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." Brady thought for a moment, realizing he was still quite excited from before.

Mark nudged Brady's arm once more. "So... You gonna switch it?"

"Umm... Yeah sure," he said in obvious reluctance. "What was next?"

"The Mist, remember?" Mark smiled. "You sure you're okay?"

Brady nodded and pushed himself up from the bed. "Yeah, I'm fine," he assured him.

Mark suddenly giggled, just as Brady stood up. "Yeah, I can see that, mate."

"Huh?"

Mark pointed with his eyes, grinning wide, at Brady's jeans. "Better than Viagra, huh?"

Blushing, Brady looked down, noticing the very noticeable bump at his crotch. Immediately, he bent forward and turned away from Mark, then awkwardly walked toward the television.

"What are you doing?" Mark chuckled as he reached for his drink.

"Shut up!" Brady blushed even deeper.

"I already know it's there," said Mark, trying to lessen Brady's embarrassment.

"So! That's not the point."

Mark laughed even louder. "Well I know THAT's not the point! But, still, really, you're just making it worse."

Finally, Brady could feel his dilemma begin to deflate, and he was able to stand up straight. He reached for the ejected disc, halfway out from the Playstation, and put it back in its case. While searching for the next movie, in the corner of his eye, he saw Mark climbing out of bed.

"What are you doing?" asked Brady, ready to run and force Mark back into bed.

"I gotta wiz," Mark explained, hobbling toward the door. "Gotta problem with that?"

Brady shook his head and watched Mark head for the door. With his eyes glued to Mark's, slightly bouncing, behind, as he walked stiff-legged across the room. "You sure you don't need a hand?" Brady asked sincerely.

"Dream on!" teased Mark, opening the door and waddling out into the hallway.

Putting the next movie into the Playstation, Brady walked back toward the bed and grabbed his nearly-empty drink from the side table. Giving it a shake, he brought it to his lips and finished off its contents. "Hey Mark!" he said just loud enough so that Mark could hear. "You want another drink!?"

"Ya, and some ice cream, too!" he replied through the sound of flushing water.

Grabbing Mark's already-empty can, Brady turned and made his way to the door. Just as he crossed the threshold, the door to the bathroom opened and Mark walked out. With a smile on his face, he stood in front of Brady, playfully blocking his path. "Whatcha gonna do, Brady? Huh, huh?" he teased, rocking back and forth like he was playing basketball.

Brady just smiled and tried to pass, only to be blocked by Mark's arm. "What are you doing?" asked Brady. "You're gonna hurt yourself again," he warned.

"Am not. That's impossible." Mark shuffled across the hallway, now standing up straight and directly in front of Brady. "So whatcha gonna do?"

Brady shrugged and tried to pass Mark again. Only this time, Mark wrapped his arms around Brady's and locked his fingers together against Brady's back. "What are you doing?" asked Brady, enjoying the contact, but wanting to get rid of the empty cans, too.

"Can't a guy hug his friend?" said Mark, squeezing slightly harder.

"That's not a hug," explained Brady, trying to wiggle away.

"Oh." Mark let go of Brady, took a single step back, and then slid his hands underneath Brady's arms and pulled him against his chest. "How's this?"

The sound of tin cans hitting the floor echoed down the hall, and Mark felt Brady's arms wrap snugly around his shoulders. At the same time, both boys lowered their head so that their face was cradled between the other's neck and shoulder.

Only moments later, Mark released Brady, and the two separated. "Looks like we're not so even anymore," giggled Mark, nodding toward Brady's pants.

This time Brady didn't bother to conceal himself. Instead, he smirked and pointed his finger. "I dunno, looks like we're pretty even to me."

Mark's smile disappeared as his chin dropped to his chest so that he could look down. "Oh snap," he said in a moan. "So we are."





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