Date: Sun, 8 Apr 2018 20:51:44 -0700
From: Alex P <alexp336@gmail.com>
Subject: Eighteen - Part 3

Part three arrives, and with it so many questions. Just what are Shaun
and Jacob to each other? Is this merely a hook-up or something more?
What was that screaming coming from your father's woodshed? I can't
promise you answers, but you should probably read the story anyway.

As always, don't read this if you shouldn't. Consider donating to Nifty
if you can afford to. Drop me an email or a message through my poor
neglected tumblr (https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/) if you liked the
story.

Oh, and while fictional boys in made-up stories may not need to worry
about safe sex, you do.

-Alex P (alexp336)


=============

EIGHTEEN by Alex Pendragon - Part 3



"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Call ID may have spoiled the surprise before I even answered, but Carl
clearly wasn't leaving the hyperbole to chance.

"Probably," I told him, "but what have I done now?"

There's a way a sufficiently frustrated person can inject an otherwise
regular silence with clear indication that they're exasperated. Carl
was a master at it.

"You can't start dating a rent boy."

I frowned, even though he couldn't see me do it. "What happened to
"just a couple of guys who are friendly," eh?"

His splutter of disbelief suggested my memory of our conversation did
not quite tally with his.

"How can you be so naive, Shaun." It was, despite phrasing, clearly a
statement rather than a question, so I didn't bother trying to answer
it. "Don't you think you're a little young to be a sugar daddy?"

I chuckled at that. "I'm pretty sure I'd be paying more if that were
the case, Carl."

"You took him out to dinner," he said, tone accusing. I laughed again.

"I've bought you dinner before, unless I'm mistaken. Does that make me
your 'sugar daddy' too?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Carl huffed, "you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Sighing, I rubbed a hand across my eyes, suddenly keen for this
particular conversation to be over.

"Look, we ate a meal together. We had sex. No, we're not dating; no,
I'm not planning to propose to him. It was fun, but nothing serious,
so stop trying to make it something it isn't, okay?"

He grunted again and then - with a final "don't say I didn't warn you"
- hung up on me.

---

"Sugar daddy" certainly seemed laughable as a suggestion for the
dynamic between Jacob and I. Sure, I'd bought him dinner, but for most
people that's what they'd call a date. It's not like he'd asked for
anything more, or even seemed like he expected it. Instead we'd gone
from the meal to some seriously hot, no-strings sex, and I had no
complaints about that, either.

We may have both dozed for a few minutes after he'd finished fucking
me, Jacob's body draped across mine as his cock gradually softened.
When he finally sat up and glanced at the clock on my nightstand, it
was with a wince.

"Another school night?" I'd asked. He'd grimaced in reply.

"And an early start tomorrow, too."

I'd pulled a face, then watched as he levered himself up off me. "Do
you want to shower?"

Jacob had smiled at me. "Were you planning on joining me?"

I'd taken it as an invitation and, if that's not what he'd had in
mind, Jacob was polite enough not to disabuse me of the notion.
Instead, we shared a shower almost chastely, taking it in turns to
step beneath the water while the other soaped himself, and only
joining for a brief, careless kiss.

"You can stay if you want... I mean, if it's easier," I'd offered, but
Jacob had shook his head.

"Thanks," he'd told me, "but I should probably make a move. I'd only
have to go pick up my stuff and a change of clothes in the morning
anyway."

I'd called him a Lyft instead, then, and - as we waited a few minutes
by the front door - stood in unexpectedly awkward silence together.

"Thank you for dinner," Jacob said, eventually. I'd nodded, smiled.

"My pleasure. And thanks for... well."

He'd grinned at me, clearly knowing exactly what I was referring to.

"I had fun." Then, leaning in so that his lips were so close to my ear
I could feel the warmth of his breath on me, "and I still think you
taste incredible."

I'd still been blushing when the car pulled away.

---

Obsessed is a strong word, so let's just say that I was preoccupied by
thoughts of Jacob the next day. Sat at my desk, faced with an inbox
full of emails I had no desire to sift through, my mind kept drifting
back to how the evening had gone.

It's not like I hadn't had great sex before. Or fairly rough sex, for
that matter. Maybe my love life hadn't been the most inspiring thing
over the past, well, year or two... maybe three. But I was still no
blushing virgin.

All the same, what stood out - and what I kept running through my head
when I should've been making calls and finishing spreadsheets - were
the two extremes with Jacob. We'd gone from rough to tender with
hardly a gap, and neither had seemed forced, or artificial, or even
awkward. That slow, insistent grind of our bodies as he'd languidly
fucked my brains out felt just as natural as pinning his head against
the mattress and reaming his throat.

For the tenth, perhaps eleventh time, I picked up my phone, unlocked
it, and stared at my last text conversation with him. Part of me
wanted to thumb out a message straight away; the more conservative
side felt like that would only seem too needy and insistent, neither
of which were either flattering or, frankly, quite how I was feeling.

Rationally, I knew that. In reality, I found myself stabbing at the keys.

"Carl thinks I'm your sugar daddy," I wrote then, before I could
overthink it too much, hit send. After a moment staring at the phone,
willing the "read" indicator to appear, I forced myself to lock it and
put it down on the desk.

It's not like what I'd said to Carl was false. Jacob and I weren't
serious, and we certainly weren't dating. What was going on between us
was, for the most part, physical attraction, maybe with some top-level
personal curiosity thrown in for added spice. And, even if we were
sexually compatible and could keep a conversation going over dinner,
that was a far way from anything more long-term.

So, it probably wasn't especially becoming quite how fast I snatched
up my phone when I heard the new-message tone.

"Ha," Jacob had written, "I'm not sure who he has a worse opinion of,
you or me."

"I got a stern talking to," I sent back. "I feel suitably chastened."

"As you should, taking advantage of a poor boy," he replied. "Or am I
taking advantage of you? It's so hard to keep up."

I chuckled, then glanced around to see if anybody had heard me.

"I'm happy with some mutual advantage-taking," I told him. "If you are."

I got a photo in reply. Jacob, seemingly in a lecture hall with rows
of bored looking students behind him. His expression was, frankly,
suggestive.

Opening the camera app, I spent a minute or two trying to make myself
look presentable on-screen before sending a picture in response. "I'll
take that as a yes," I added.

"What else will you take?" he fired back, moments later.

"Whatever you can give," I responded.

Another picture. This time Jacob looking thoughtful.

"Pick me up after class?"

I glanced up at the clock on the wall, then felt dumb because the time
was right at the top of my phone screen. Old habits.

"Sure. What time?"

"Is 3:30 too early?"

The thought of being able to get out of the office sooner meant I'd
probably have agreed to anything. I fired back a "fine by me!" and
settled down to clock-watch.

---

In the end, I was probably twenty minutes early. The parking lot was
surprisingly busy, and so I sent Jacob a text telling him whereabouts
the car was. Opening up a book on my phone, I settled in to wait.

Next thing I realized, the door opened and Jacob - wearing a
short-sleeved polo which I couldn't help but notice clung tightly to
the contours of his torso - slipped into the passenger seat. Backpack
dumped unceremoniously into the footwell. I glanced across in
greeting, only to find myself making eye contact with a girl bending
to look in through the open window, with a suspicious look on her
face.

"Oh," she said, breaking her gaze at me to look knowingly at Jacob. "I
see how it is."

Jacob rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her. "`Bye Sandra,"
he said, pointedly. She raised an eyebrow and then walked off.

I took the opportunity to look him over again. Skinny black jeans and
that dark red shirt that seemed like it was fighting with his chest,
which clearly wanted to escape. A pair of sunglasses hooked into the
collar and dangling down between his pecs.

"I feel like I'm doing the school run," I admitted.

"You kinda are," he replied, with a smirk. I groaned, resting my
forehead against the steering wheel melodramatically.

"Hey, you either hate it or you embrace it," he told me. When I turned
my head to look at him, he had his half-hard cock out and was waggling
it in his lap, a goofy grin spread across his face. There were clearly
people walking through the parking lot, either side of the cars, and I
started in surprise.

"Christ! Are you trying to get us arrested?"

He threw his head back and laughed, but at least he also tucked his
dick away too.

"But officer, the man told me to whip it out," he pantomimed,
mimicking a childish voice and a wide-eyed, innocent expression. I
scowled at him.

"You want to walk, that's it, is it?"

Jacob looked smug. "You wouldn't."

I tried to fix him with my very coldest glare. "Why don't you try me,"
I challenged.

His expression turned lustful. "Why don't I ride your cock instead."

My glare swiftly evaporated. "Deal," I chuckled, and put the car in gear.

It was the first time I'd really seen Jacob in daylight, and I found
myself stealing glances of him out of the corner of my eye as I drove.
The radio wasn't on, but it didn't seem to matter; he was humming
along to whatever music was playing in his head, tapping the door and
his knee to the rhythm. When he finally caught on to my glances, he
grinned at me.

"What are you looking at?"

I shrugged, a little awkward at having been caught. "You, I guess."

"You've seen me before, you realize."

I rolled my eyes at him. "So should I just close my eyes, then?"

He mimed clinging onto the grab-handles in desperation. "Can't see how
your driving would be any worse," he teased. I scowled.

"Again, walking remains an option," I pointed out. Jacob's expression was smug.

"Yeah, but then you don't get to pound this sweet teen ass, do you."

He had a point.

Little more than a mile down the road, and his hand was on my thigh,
sneaking up my leg.

"What're you doing?" I asked him. Jacob smirked.

"Talking about you pounding my ass made me horny. Can I play with your dick?"

I sighed. That sounded great, certainly, but crashing into a ditch didn't.

"Not while I'm driving, okay?"

His frown was clear. "How about I suck it then?"

"I'm not sure how you think that's going to be less distracting."

He bounced in his seat, obstinate. I almost thought I saw a pout.

"Why don't you pull over then?"

I glanced at him again, slightly incredulously. "What, so we can get
arrested for indecent behavior on the side of the road? Anyway, I
though you were hungry."

Jacob's smirk was the picture of lascivious. "Oh, I am..."

There was no doubt as to what he wanted to feast on.

"Are you always this horny after class?" I asked him, curious.

He pawed absent-mindedly at his crotch. "Are you always this reluctant
to get a blow job?" I chuckled. It did seem pretty weird, finding
reasons not to let a hot guy touch me.

"Does it make a difference if I tell you I'm wearing Calvin Klein
briefs?" he suggested, voice low and seductive. "You can see them if
you like."

I silently cursed Carl for sharing that particular little peccadillo
of mine with what was turning out to be a boy-nymphomaniac. Not that
the thought of his body wrapped in clinging underwear was doing much
for my resolve.

"I'm sure they look very good on you," I told him. Jacob sighed.

"I'm driving with a monk," he complained, sitting back and crossing
his arms in frustration. I tried to stifle my grin.

"Look," I conceded, after a half mile or so of his annoyed silence,
"how about a deal. We pick up food now, because I didn't have lunch
and I'm starving, and then we go to my place."

Jacob looked at me sidelong. "Are you trying to seduce me or something?"

I stared at him in confusion. "A minute ago you were trying to bury
your face in my lap!" He giggled, all attempts at being serious
forgotten.

"Gotcha. Man, you might have to eat your lunch off my back while you
fuck me, though. I need some action already!"

"Deal," I told him, rolling my eyes.

---

For someone who seemed more concerned about fucking than food, Jacob
still had an unexpected list of requirements when it came to what we
should pick up. After what felt like an eternity browsing menus on his
phone, though, we finally had bags in the back of the car. There was
no way I was going to point out to him that what we'd eventually
settled on had actually been my first suggestion.

After a few ignored "hey, stop sneaking food from the bag!" complaints
that clearly weren't going to work, I landed on a somewhat grumpy
promise that, if he was going to eat everything before we even got
back to my apartment, he was also going to be responsible for getting
me a pizza. Jacob grinned his assent around a mouthful of French
fries.

All his protestations about being horny seemed to take second place to
his appetite, though, when we finally made it to my kitchen. By the
time I'd fetched plates and glasses out, Jacob had dumped most of the
contents of the bags onto the counter and was grazing his way through
it.

"How do you not weigh three hundred pounds?" I asked him, staring
somewhat incredulously. He smirked at me.

"Teen metabolism?" Jacob chuckled at my obvious frustration. "Oh, and
I go to the gym three or four times a week."

I felt a certain sort of satisfaction wash over me. If it had all been
natural, that simply would've been too much to stomach.

"Your friend didn't seem to approve," I mentioned, remembering the
scowl on the girl's face when I picked Jacob up in the parking lot.

He rolled his eyes. "Sandra. She doesn't approve of anything.
Certainly not when I... socialize."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that what this is, 'socializing'?"
Jacob chewed, thoughtfully.

"Would you rather this was a hook-up? Or a booty call?"

"Do we still say booty call?" I asked him. He smirked again.

"I was translating for you, old man."

I turned my back on him so that he wouldn't see my smile. His jokes
might be at my expense, and mostly hinge on my age, but just the fact
that we were making them together was leaving me feeling young. I
pulled a couple of cold cans of soda from the fridge.

"Am I going to have to call Carl and tell him he was right?"

Jacob frowned at me. "You can call Carl and tell him to kiss my ass
and mind his own damn business."

I raised my hands in supplication. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. No Carl."

Jacob yanked the pull on the can and took a long, noisy slurp. I
watched his throat pulse as he gulped it down.

"Carl thinks he knows me," he offered after a moment, settling the can
back down on the counter. He stared at it, twisting it idly between
his fingers. "I mean, he told you as much, didn't he. That I'm selling
myself off, somehow. Right?"

I shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable. Yes, Carl had basically
implied that, and yes, I'd fully expected Jacob to demand some sort of
payment at the end of that first night we'd spent together. That he
hadn't, well, it still was something of a surprise to me, honestly.

When I looked up at him again, I realized he was staring at me.

"Was it a turn-on for you, thinking you were hooking up with a rent
boy?" Part of my brain played his question over and over in rapid
succession, trying to dig through his intonation to figure out what
was the right answer. The rest of me just felt myself floundering.

"To be honest," I said, after as long a pause as I could stomach, "I
was too busy being surprised that a hot eighteen-year-old would want
to sleep with me to think about anything more nuanced."

Jacob stared at me in silence for a few moments more, searching my
face, before looking down again at the scattered mess of food across
the counter. I thought I could detect the faintest trace of a smile
around the corner of his mouth, though I knew I could very well be
mistaken.

"I'm not sure why it remains such a surprise to you that a younger guy
could find you attractive," he said, eventually.

"That sounds like something only an attractive young guy could
possibly question," I pushed back.

We sat for a minute or two in silence, each weighing the time as it
spiraled out between us. Eventually, he sat up and pushed the plate
away.

"Carl thinks too much. You think too much. And now I'm thinking too
much." His sudden smile almost looked innocent, just for a moment.
"You wanna fuck my throat?"

I looked at him in bemusement for a moment, then felt the grin twist my lips.

"I thought you'd never ask."

---

He knew where the bedroom was, but showed no inclination to move
there. Instead, he slipped from the stool and took the few paces
needed to close the gap between us, leaning in to press his lips
against mine. I could feel the heat and urgency in me growing, a surge
fueled by the mounting passion in our kiss.

Jacob reached down, his hand squeezed into the press of our bodies,
and pushed his palm against my erection as it throbbed in my jeans. I
grunted into his mouth, eagerly, then felt his fingers tugging at my
fly.

He gave a sharp hiss of pleasure in return when my cock filled his
fist. Deft strokes pulling me to even greater stiffness. Gripping his
shoulders, I turned us - lips remaining tightly joined - until his
back was against the refrigerator door.

When I pulled away, just for a moment, I could see the hunger scored
clear in his gaze. Eyes slightly hooded; cheeks flushed. He licked his
lips as I pushed him down, slowly but insistently, to his knees.

Jacob wasted no time, the head of my shaft slipping across his tongue
as he forced his face into my crotch. The hot, wet clutch of his
throat wrapping around my tip, while his lips massaged the base. I
felt my hips twitch instinctively, jabbing my cock into him and
sending the back of his head bouncing off the dull metal of the fridge
door.

One hand making wet strokes along the length of me, he pulled off me
and looked up with a sultry gaze. "Why are you holding back?"

I stared down at him; saw his eyes widen momentarily in teasing
invitation. Then he was on me again, his hands repositioned to my ass
as though to pull me further into him. Only this time I didn't need
any help getting the message.

Pushing my crotch forward, I sandwiched his head between my body and
the cold stainless steel. Felt him gulp and pulse on me as I held
myself there, before pulling back until just the head was cradled
between his lips. A moment, just a beat, and then I was grinding back
in again, the slick, tight sleeve of him a silken grip around me as I
built up a rhythm.

Staring down, I saw his eyes glaze over blissfully; watched his lips
pulled taut around me. "Is this what you wanted?" I asked him, not
allowing Jacob the free use of his mouth to reply. Forcing him to
gurgle some happy, wordless message in the affirmative. My palms flat
on the fridge now, shoulder-width apart, as I drove myself into him.

"Fuck my throat," he'd told me, and I took it at face value. Ignored
the periodic choking and spluttering as I hammered relentlessly,
gauging his own eagerness by the fierce grip of his fingers on my
thighs. It felt somehow wrong - negligent, almost - to focus so
completely on my own pleasure; only the knowledge that Jacob was
equally turned on by such rough treatment stopped me from
second-guessing myself.

Whatever doubts I might have had grew more and more distant as my
orgasm approached, Jacob's attempts to ply his tongue around my cock
almost needless as I forced my pleasure out of his body's slick grip.
Knowing that there was no need to warn him, no need to ask for
permission. Simply felt the surge within me like pins & needles, like
a scream that bubbles from the pit of your stomach up through your
chest at a volume you'd never believe yourself capable. And then
tipping, toppling over the edge of it.

Squeezing Jacob's head like a vice, cock buried in his throat as deep
as I could force it, and feeling the staccato gulp as he swallowed me.
Pulling back as the grind of his tongue grew overwhelming, my flesh
shuddering as the sensations flashed from pleasurable to excruciating
like a sudden flood of cold water from the showerhead. And leaving
Jacob on his knees, gasping.

Spit had run down his chin and left dark tracks across his shirt.
Cheekbones brushed with red; mouth agape, lips puffy and swollen. I
could see his chest heaving as he sucked down air.

"Fuck," he muttered, eventually. He sounded hoarse. Followed by a deep
swallow that flexed his throat visibly.

I felt an unexpected twist of guilt, seeing him there; his face a
sticky mess, arms hanging loosely by his sides. But, before I could
say anything, Jacob looked up at me.

"Fuck, I needed that." His eyes were glowing, an eagerness that
smothered any concerns I might have had that I'd taken things too far.
Jacob ran a hand over the bulge of his dick, clearly outlined through
the clinging black denim of his skinny jeans. "I'm so fucking horny
right now."

As I watched, he tugged the button fly open and hooked out his
erection. Already glistening with precum, his fist making wet noises
as he stroked himself. For a moment I watched him there, thighs spread
wide and mouth still open, his pupils huge as he jerked off in front
of me.

It felt only natural to drop to my knees and lean into him. His puffy
lips soft and pillowy against my own as we kissed, hungrily. Pulling
him up with my hands in his armpits, I raised him just enough that I
could then ease down his jeans some more, baring his ass to my roaming
grip.

Breaking our kiss, I replaced my tongue with two fingers in his mouth,
feeling him suckle on them like he'd been guzzling on my cock just a
few minutes before. Getting them slick enough that, when I reached
down and pressed my fingertips at his hole, it only took the slightest
pressure before they were slipping inside him.

"Oh, shit," Jacob gasped, as I finger-fucked him roughly. His hand was
a blur now, jerking frantically. I could feel wet flecks of his precum
on my skin as he flailed.

"Your throat felt so good," I murmured, "and you're so well trained, I
didn't even have to tell you to swallow my load." Jacob whimpered in
response, a gasp half-stifled in his chest, and then his cum was
splashing against me, his ass clamping down in waves as though it
wanted to sever my fingers. When I pulled them free, he toppled back
against the fridge as though I'd been the only thing holding him
upright.

Holding up my arm to his mouth, I nudged the wetness of his cream
against his lips until he got the message. Tongue emerging to lap up
his own spray, flattening the fine hairs along my arm as he groomed me
like a cat. "Such a good boy," I teased.

Jacob pulled his head back, lolling it at a loose angle against the
fridge door, and gave me a smirk. "Don't get any ideas, 'daddy'," he
told me, leaning heavily on the word. I laughed.

"Don't worry, not my scene," I told him. He chuckled in return.

"And just what is your 'scene', then?"

I shrugged; glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Right now, probably
getting you into the shower."

He feigned affront. "Are you telling me I smell?"

Reaching out absent-mindedly, I brushed my thumb across his
still-swollen lips. His face shifted to follow my touch, in a way that
seemed almost instinctive.

"No, I'm telling you that you look good when you're naked and all soaped up."

Jacob pantomimed a thoughtful look, then grinned. "I suppose that
could be true."

Pushing myself to my feet, I held out a hand to him. "Want to test my
theory?" Jacob reached out and levered himself up from his slump. When
he was upright, I gave his arm one last tug and brought him stumbling
into me, our lips connecting. Damn, he was good to kiss. "You know
where the shower is," I reminded him when our mouths finally parted,
and then watched as he progressively shed his clothes on the short
walk to the bathroom.

---

There's something particularly intimate in showering with somebody else.

I don't mean just the intimacy of sex that just so happens to take
place under running water. It's the application of soap, of being
observed as your hands wash your body in a process that typically
lacks an audience. The specific way you run fingers between the cheeks
of your ass, or even just how you scrub under your arms. Things we do,
normally at least, in private - that, unless you have a mirror in your
shower, even you yourself don't usually see in full - suddenly watched
by another.

I didn't bother to disguise my observation of Jacob as he slowly
turned under the sheets of water. My place might not be anything
special, but the broad, full-throated shower head is an exception.
Compared to the miserly flow you get from most, it's almost like
you're standing beneath a waterfall.

Eventually, though, he opened his eyes to find me staring. "Sorry, I'm
hogging all the hot water," he apologized. I smiled in return.

"It's okay, I get the view, remember?"

Jacob half-turned his body to me and arched his back knowingly. I
watched the water course down his shoulders, half falling from them
and half gliding down the curve of his spine. Either way splashing
liberally across the full jut of his buttocks. Maybe it was the heat,
but somehow the caramel of his skin was richer, fuller. I was
mesmerized.

"Come here," he purred, and I closed the gap between us, allowing my
body to mold itself to his as I wrapped my arms around his chest. Up
close, his complexion was near-flawless.

"How did you get such amazing skin?" I asked him, thinking back to my
own awkward, pimply teens. Jacob smiled, his nose nudging against
mine.

"Witchcraft," he told me, "and good, clean living." I didn't even
attempt to hide my skepticism.

"Does this count as clean living?"

Jacob laughed, and I felt his skin shift against mine. "Well, we're in
the shower aren't we?"

I pushed my lips against his in wordless reply, feeling his part as
our enthusiasm intensified. Jacob's palms skirted down the curves of
my hips, fingers rhythmically squeezing my flesh. Even though we'd
only just had sex, my groin was gradually reacting to our passion. The
push of his own cock against my hip told me he was feeling it too.

"You make me feel younger," I told him, in snatched moments while our
lips were apart. He rolled his eyes.

"How tedious," Jacob teased. "Can't you feel your age and just be
turned on?" I opened my mouth to argue, then thought about what he'd
said.

Did I have to revert to some younger version of myself to feel like it
was okay to be with a guy? Or, to put it another way, was it really
necessary to pretend - to convince myself, however tenuously - that I
was someone, or something, different, because otherwise what we were
doing wouldn't be "okay," somehow?

"You keep making me think," I pointed out to Jacob. "Aren't we
supposed to just be fucking?"

He chuckled in response. I felt soft but insistent hands sliding around my ass.

"Now you sound really teenage."

"You're only as young as the boy you feel," I fired back.

Jacob nodded, conceding the point. A fingertip rasped deliberately
across my hole, and I felt my cock pulse in response.

"Do you want to fuck me, then?" I asked him. Jacob grinned, dipping
his face in closer to mine so that our lips grazed, but pulling away
before I could kiss him properly. I groaned my frustration, then
shuddered again as his finger passed over me again.

"I thought we could go out first," he told me.

I frowned. "Out where?"

His smile was wicked. "Don't you trust me?"

---

I'd watched as he squeezed his legs back into skinny jeans; his lithe
torso clad once more in the confines of his figure-hugging polo shirt.
Blushed the first time he looked up and caught me staring, his smile
knowing. As he sat on the edge of the bed, lacing his sneakers, I
observed the deft movements of his fingers though the mirror, only
half paying attention as I tried to make some semblance of style from
my unruly hair.

I'd watched him again in the back of the Lyft he'd summoned to my
front door, the streetlights casting rhythmic amber shadows across his
face. Stripes of tungsten orange as the fall night drew in suddenly.
He looked across at me once, meeting my gaze in all its hunger;
smiling, full of the knowledge that my eyes were entranced by him and
him alone.

He'd set the destination in the app, and I wasn't sure where we were
going. At least, not until we pulled up outside the club.

"Really?" I asked, knowing how my voice would sound but saying it anyway.

Jacob glanced at me, his expression loaded. "Really."

It was not, I realized as he pulled me through the door and into the
dimly-lit room, the sort of club I'd been expecting. No thumping music
and heaving, drunken bodies. Just a stage with a band, a bar half in
shadows, and a crowd of people clutching beer bottles and mostly
paying attention to the musicians playing.

Jacob pushed his mouth close to my ear. "They're friends of mine." He
pulled back, and I raised an eyebrow as if to say 'impressive', even
though it wasn't really my sort of music. He leaned in again. "Drink?"

I nodded, even as he was already leading us to the dimly-lit counter.
Reached for my wallet, but found he'd already taken out cash of his
own. I looked down as he pushed a cold bottle into my hand.

"I know, you'd rather have wine," Jacob teased. He mimed lifting the
bottle to my lips and drinking. "Do you think you can slum it with me,
just this once?"

Scowling, only half-seriously, I pointedly took a sip. "I drink beer,"
I told him. Jacob gave me a knowing look.

"Sure you do," he said, in a tone which said he didn't believe me one
bit. "Let's go listen."

Again, I let him drag me by the arm, pulling us through the crowd
until we were just a few people back from the low edge of the stage.
The music wasn't bad, per se, but probably not something I'd have kept
listening to if it came on the radio in the car. Lots of guitar and
drums and lyrics I couldn't quite be motivated enough to decipher. The
singer, at least, was cute in a long-haired, vaguely emo way.

Jacob's body brushed against me, not so much dancing as simply swaying
carelessly to the rhythms. When I glanced over at him now, his
attention was fixed eagerly on the stage; I felt a shiver of illicit
liberation at being able to rake my gaze across his face and down his
body, without the tempering knowledge that he was aware of it.

Handsome, somehow, fell short of doing Jacob justice. It wasn't just
that his face was perfectly proportioned - mature, but still with an
impish delicacy to the features - or the perpetually emerging smile
that creased the corners of his mouth. I mean, they helped, certainly,
as did the rich glow of his skin and the sparkle in his eyes. But
beyond that, it was some balance of youth and knowing maturity that,
as the wisps of guilt about our age difference gradually dissipated,
left mainly hunger in its stead.

My observation was interrupted by an arm on Jacob's shoulder from
behind us. We both turned, me a beat behind him, just in time to see
arms flung around his neck and hear him squeal in greeting.

It was, I realized as they extricated from each other, the girl from
the parking lot. My assumption was confirmed when she looked across,
saw that I was present, and scowled with the same mistrustful
expression of deep skepticism that she'd given me this afternoon.

"Shaun, this is my best friend Sandra," Jacob told me, raising his
voice over the sound of the band. I found myself leaning in, echoing
his posture as he tipped forward into the space between me and her,
then realized she was - unconsciously, probably - doing the same. I
stood up straight again, then nodded.

"Nice to meet you."

Her nod in return was several degrees cooler. "Yeah, you too."

"I saw you today, right? In the parking lot?"

The look I got made me wish I'd brought gloves, a scarf, and a hat,
because I was liable to get frostbite.

"Yeah. I saw you pick him up."

I wasn't entirely sure what her problem was, beyond the basics of
"mistrust the guy who's interested in your friend," but I'd had enough
experience with Dour Female Best Friends to know that there was little
chance of my turning it around any time soon. Much more likely was the
probability that Sandra would quietly - or not so quietly - seethe and
simmer for a while, then either realize I wasn't the devil incarnate
or just block me out of all consideration.

Assuming, that is, I'm still around by that point.

I reached over and slipped my arm around Jacob's waist, then pulled
him in close to me. He half-turned, grinning, still with an eye on the
band but certainly not doing anything to discourage me. When I glanced
to the side I saw Sandra watching me with outright displeasure writ
large on her face. Just the briefest of looks, but I knew she'd seen
me do it.

Pushing my lips close to his ear, I raised my voice just loud enough
to be heard over the music.

"I don't think Sandra likes me."

I felt Jacob's smile more than I saw it, his cheek shifting against my
face. He turned to me.

"Sandra isn't especially keen on anybody, I'm afraid."

I frowned. "So you're saying I'm not special enough to dislike?"

Jacob's eyes rolled, theatrically. "Are we back to self-doubt and
tedious deprecation?"

"Are you always such a cocky know-it-all?" I fired back, smirking at him.

Unexpectedly he stuck out his tongue and, split-second quick, licked
the tip of my nose. I boggled at him for a moment.

"Do strong boys intimidate you?"

Now it was the turn of my eyes to do some swiveling of their own. "Not
at all," I deadpanned, "but I prefer it when they're squealing."

Jacob shook his head, mock-dismayed, then nudged his finger underneath
my beer and gestured the bottle toward my lips. I got the hint and
took a sip. It was not, certainly, what I would've picked, but the
sheer fact that Jacob paid for it himself would probably be enough to
give Carl palpitations.

"Music first, drinking first, socializing first," he explained to me,
patiently, as though speaking to a child. "Then, well, the rest."

"I like 'the rest'," I told him, my expression lascivious.

"And I like fucking you," he replied, loud enough that Sandra
half-turned to us. I caught the faintest glimpse of disgust on her
face - more, I was sure, because I was involved than anything to do
with Jacob being gay - before she turned away again.

"Fine," I told him, raising my bottle voluntarily this time. "You win.
Look at me, being terribly social."

Jacob grinned. "You're doing so well, I'm so proud." A glance at the
stage. "Keep it up and I'll introduce you to the singer who you so
obviously keep checking out every few minutes."

Before I could even adopt a "who, me?" expression he'd turned back to
the band, a self-satisfied smirk giving the strong suggestion that he
thought he'd won this particular round. I reached out, clinked my
bottle against his, and then echoed his gaze.

Jacob wasn't totally wrong. The singer was, even if the words he was
producing were pretty much unintelligible to me, still easy on the
eyes. Slim hipped and dressed all in black, with shoulder-length long
hair hanging in a fashion best described as wayward, he was pretty in
a slightly fragile way that, I wasn't entirely proud to say,
occasionally pushed my buttons.

It was a thought that ran through my mind again a couple of songs
later, when the singer was stood up close in front of me. The band had
finished its set and been replaced by another which, I felt, was
almost indistinguishable in the noises it was making. Before I could
bemoan the fact, though, Jacob was tugging on my arm.

"Shaun, this is Ash."

A fitting name. Shock of pale skin behind the unruly hair that
part-covered his face; full lips that were wet from a half-drained
bottle of water. It was fairly dark, but I could still see enough to
recognize his bright green eyes, flecked with amber. I lifted my beer
to distract from the fact that I suspect I was staring.

Ash nodded a greeting at me, but his attention quickly switched back to Jacob.

"What did you think? Pitchy, right?"

Jacob face-palmed exaggeratedly. "You're your own worst critic," he
pointed out. Ash shrugged.

"I could hear myself. It was terrible."

Jacob side-eyed me. "What did you think, Shaun?"

The sixty-four thousand dollar question. And one to which he knew the
answer was "do I really have to listen to this?"

Not, of course, an answer I could say out loud.

"It was great," I told him instead. "You're really good."

Ash's attention fixed on me, a look close to hunger passing across his face.

"Did you really think so?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

"Absolutely," he echoed, quietly, sounding thoughtful. I glanced at
Jacob but his expression was resolutely locked-down.

"You don't think I was too... well, y'know... a little too..."

Ash trailed out, so I filled in the gap. "Not at all. I loved it."
Watched as his face lit up in dawning recognition of the words I was
saying. "I loved listening to you."

His smile was megawatt-bright; so much so, in fact, that I very nearly
missed Jacob muttering "you loved looking, too," sarcastically next to
us. I delivered as much side-eye as I could without it being
abundantly noticeable to the youth now beaming at me.

"Thank you, that's really nice of you to say..." he trailed off.

"Shaun," I prompted. Ash nodded, as though he'd just been taking a
long pause for dramatic purposes, and hadn't in fact completely
ignored my name just moments before when we'd been introduced.

"Shaun, right. And how do you know Jacob again?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, Sandra loudly
interrupted. "He's fucking him."

Resisting the urge to glare, I took a deep gulp from my beer instead.
Jacob, for his part, looked almost amused at the comment, while Ash
just nodded again, more thoughtfully this time, as though it was some
deep insight into interpersonal relationships.

"For long?" he inquired, eventually. I spluttered into the bottle.

"No, it's a relatively new fuck," Jacob deadpanned. Ash frowned, then
conspicuously looked me up and down.

"Yeah," he concluded, "I can see it."

I felt very much like meat on display at that point, a feeling that
wasn't entirely dissatisfying. Still, that was probably only because
the meat was getting reasonably nice comments.

Jacob leaned into his friend, whispering conspiratorially into Ash's
ear. Given the way the singer looked at me, his smirk increasingly
evident, I could guess I was the topic of his mutterings. Awkwardly, I
took another drink, only to discover the bottle was empty.

Pulling back, Jacob reached out and grabbed it from me. "Another?" I
nodded mutely. He grinned. "Ash? Silly question." Another smirk from
the singer. As I watched, Jacob pushed himself into the crowd in the
direction of the bar.

When I turned back, I realized Ash had taken a step closer to me.
Close enough, in fact, that I could see the smooth, almost pore-free
expanse of pale skin between the artful tangles of his hair. What had
seemed careless and unconsidered with the distance from the stage
looked more intentional at less than arm's reach. No longer just hair
allowed to run wild.

"So how did you meet Jacob, then?" His eyes sparkled as he asked me; I
found myself missing the bottle which, even empty, was a good prop for
my hands to fiddle with.

"Mutual friend," I explained, vaguely. Ash's eyebrow arched. "I don't
normally..."

Lips just slightly parting in a smile. "You don't normally fuck teenagers?"

I winced. "Yeah, you could probably say that."

He nodded, thoughtfully, then lifted the water bottle to his mouth. I
watched his throat pulse as he swallowed.

"Well," he said, eventually, "if it's any consolation..." Ash leaned
into me, his lips near my left ear; I could feel the heat radiating
off his chest, an oddly powerful wave given his slender form. "...I'm
wearing really low-cut briefs. They're white. I think you'd enjoy
them."

When he pulled back, he laughed at my shocked expression. Suddenly I
was in no doubt as to what Jacob had been whispering to him earlier.

"Jacob likes embarrassing me," I commented, trying to reclaim some
dignity in the situation. Ash gave me a wicked grin.

"Jacob knows I like attention," he countered.

Any comeback I might've had was interrupted by the man himself
returning. Jacob held out a fresh bottle to me, and a plastic cup of
something clear that I suspected was probably vodka to Ash. Held up
his own bottle for us to clink against. I couldn't help but stare
again as Ash swallowed. Something about that long, slender neck.

"So what did I miss?" Jacob asked us, smiling. I scowled at him.

"Shaun was just saying that you like embarrassing him," Ash prompted.

"Not as much as he likes choking me on his dick," Jacob offered,
providing another opportunity for me to demonstrate choking on a
drink. When I'd finished spluttering, he reached out and squeezed my
bicep. "Not that I don't love that too, mind."

"It certainly stops you from talking about other people's...
interests," I fired back. Jacob attempted an innocent look, but it
wasn't terribly convincing. Ash giggled.

"He didn't even ask to see."

The innocent expression quickly morphed into mock-outrage.

"Don't you want to see Ash in his underwear, Shaun?"

I looked between them, Jacob playfully pantomiming anger and Ash
hovering somewhere between amusement and simmering sexual tension. I
wasn't quite sure how I'd got myself into this situation, but it
definitely felt a long way from those fateful drinks with Carl.


================


Oh happy day, oh surprise of surprises - part 4 is already finished.
That assumes you want to read it, of course. Do feel free to tell me -
alexp336@gmail.com or via https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/