Date: Fri, 11 Nov 2022 23:28:54 +0000
From: DCfield90 <DCfield90@protonmail.com>
Subject: Decent Progress Chapter 5

Decent Progress, Chapter 5

Evening All,

Well this one was hard to write but I think it turned out fine. Any
comments or suggestions are welcome at DCfield90@protonmail.com. The next
entry may be a bit delayed given some personal errands I need to attend
to. Hope you enjoy, and be sure to donate to Nifty!

Despite the turbulence of his thoughts the previous night, Christian awoke
energized and brimming with excitement. He kicked off his blankets and
stood up, stretching with his hands to the ceiling. Brody was still asleep,
one leg folded in a flamingo-like position, his head resting easily on one
arm. But he stirred and when his long lashes fluttered open seeing
Christian, he smiled languidly. Rising slightly, he extended his arms and
beckoned by waving his fingers.

"What?" Christian laughed.

"C 'mere."

Cautiously, he sidled forward and bent down until he passed within Brody's
outstretched arms. They snapped around their prey and yanked him in.

"Hey, chill out," Christian said with amusement.

"I'm chill" Brody said sleepily, his voice muffled by being buried in the
nape of the boys neck, his nose and lips incredibly soft. Tentatively he
put his own arms around Brody, somewhat awkward given his position
half-kneeling, half-leaning into the bed.

"Who knew Brody was so cuddly in the morning?"

But who cares. He savored the scent of his black hair; lemon with a hint of
brine. Being this close he saw it parted at his ear, which was crumpled
into a cauliflower; Brody disdained wearing any headgear in wrestling.

"It's such a rough sport", Christian thought. Brody drew in a long breath
and sighed contentedly into Christian's neck, the air tickling
him. Christian's hand cupped one of Brody's lats, and he felt a thumb
rubbing up and down his back. It was almost heavenly except for one thing.

"My side's hurting" Christian admitted, the bed frame was carving a ridge
into his rib. In response Brody made to pull him further into the bed, then
seemed to reconsider. He released Christian and patted his shoulder.

"Go get a burner going, I'll make eggs after I get dressed."

Christian obeyed and rose, shuffling to the door in his pajamas. He turned
and looked back. Brody was about to hoist himself out of bed, but froze,
poised with his arms braced. Christian looked at him curiously.

"Go on," Brody coaxed.

Once more Christian did as he was told and fished for a frying pan in the
cabinets, hearing a hurried rustling in the bedroom. He found a beaten iron
skillet and dropped it onto a burner. Why was Brody so awkward suddenly? He
never shied away from attention.

"ooohhh...morning wood!"

Christian grinned impishly to himself. No wonder he didn't want to take the
covers off, or prolong their hug. But wait, wasn't it Brody who said
`accidental boners are no big deal'? What a hypocrite! Oh it's alright for
Christian, but no one can see Mr. Alpha Dog vulnerable. Though Christian
pondered, wasn't a raging boner an expression of power, not weakness? He
could picture Brody exhibiting his own proudly as some primitive display of
dominance.

"If only," the small and perpetually horny voice inside him muttered.

He dropped a slab of salted butter (another wise provision from his
roommate) into the frying pan and watched it dissolve. Brody came up behind
him, crotch now safely protected by multiple layers. He put his arms around
Christian's waist and hooked his chin over his shoulder to see the
stove. It was so intimate. Christian closed his eyes and begged his cock
not to rise at the sensation of Brody's pecs against his own solid
back. God, this kid would be the death of him.

"No non-stick skillets?", Brody murmured beside him.

"No, that's why I used all that butter."

"Good thinking. Here, I'll make them," he said, moving Christian gently
aside. Christian made to go to the bar and sit down, but Brody held onto
his arm and jerked him back.

"What, bro?" Christian said with some exasperation. Brody looked up from
his work in cracking the eggs.

"Nothing, just want you to stay here." He pulled a bit and positioned
Christian directly to his side, switching on the oven light for better
visibility.

"So what's the plan for today?" He figured Brody would have one.

"Waves, wind, ball... I'll teach you to skim board. Tonight we may go out
for dinner, but Hunter's hooked us up for a party. It's mainly
upperclassmen, maybe college age too, so be prepared for that. Since you're
so inexperienced," Christian opened his mouth to protest, "stick with me or
you may get catastrophically drunk."

As he spoke he raised his left hand to Christian's neck and shoulders,
kneading the muscles there gently, while working the eggs with his
right. Just then the other bedroom door opened, and Alex came bumbling out,
his wavy hair a birds nest and yawning deeply. Brody's hand slid away.

"Breakfast? Damn Brody you're awesome."

They ate at the bar after rousing Thompson, and Christian had the idea of
baking English muffins with cheese to make sandwiches. Thompson scarfed
three of them. Apparently the party that night was indeed for an older
crowd, but Hunter (who was a senior) had reassured them they were fine to
attend. The location was a distance down the beach so they would need to
drive.

"Not far though," Thompson reassured, "If we're too shithoused we can sleep
on the beach, it wouldn't kill us."

"Speaking of which, let's get down there," Brody said wiping his chin. The
sun was only just risen over the horizon, they'd followed the wisdom of
waking up early. Christian changed into his board shorts in the narrow
bathroom, hesitant at first about wearing underwear beneath them. That was
always a dilemma. He decided yes. Emerging he looked for the others.

"Alex and Thompson went down," Brody said from behind.

Christian would have replied, but was momentarily dumbstruck by the sight
before him. It was one thing to see a photo, another to witness it in
person. His skin was so much softer to look at so close, his muscles so
much more vibrantly alive and easily proportioned. No veins stood out
anywhere, Christian could only barely detect their faint blue traces
underneath the deep cream of his skin. Brody was wearing a VERY sexy
swimsuit. It wasn't quite a speedo, more a waterproof pair of sky-blue
briefs. Those unbelievable obliques cut stiff lines down to his crotch;
evolution or God seemed to have designed them for that purpose, to draw the
eyes downwards to his sex. Christian tore his eyes away from his package, a
bundle in which he could make out the plump shape of his cock, and forced
himself to look at Brody's face. To his surprise, Brody seemed equally
dazed. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were heavy. His chest and
rippled stomach were moving a bit rapidly.

"Ok..." Christian said to break the silence. Brody snapped his eyes up and
regained his composure.

"I need you to do my back." He passed Christian a can of sunscreen and
turned. Christian momentarily admired the sheets of white muscle before
spraying him down. He missed Brody's hand subtly come forward to adjust
himself.

"Now you." Brody commanded.

"I already did my face," Christian complained, but Brody shook his head.

"You tan more than me but you still need sunscreen. Cover your eyes."

He did so, and an ozone-depleting amount of mist engulfed him. Brody went
over his front, back, arms and legs. He even tapped Christian to raise up
so he could spray the soles of his feet.

"Even unexposed areas can be vulnerable to ultraviolet," Brody
patronized. They took their towels and a cooler down to the beach, where
Thompson had already set umbrellas. He whistled as they approached.

"Hot damn, look at these studs!"

"I never realized you guys were so ripped," Alex said with admiration in
his voice.

Christian looked down, bashful but pleased to be put in a similar category
with Brody.

"Christian needs to flaunt it more. We'll have to get him some nuthuggers
like yours, Brody" Thompson joked.

"There's an idea!" Brody said, whirling around to Christian with wide eyes.

"No way! I can't pull that off" Christian balked, catching the frisbee Alex
tossed him.

"I'll be the judge of that!" Brody said, nimbly scampering backwards to
create distance.

They threw the frisbee a while before launching themselves into the
surf. The water was seasonably chilled and incredibly refreshing. There was
nothing like the ocean, Christian thought. It was so ALIVE, roaring and
whispering and pounding all the time. It could be welcoming like a friend
or menace you away like a bad stranger. He could see why sailors attributed
moods to it. The four boys romped and played so happily, onlookers might
think they were hysterical, but being in the water just had that
effect. Brody in particular let out his puppylike aggression and no one was
safe from his tackles and bear hugs. Christian was by far the biggest
victim and hardly spent 30 consecutive seconds out of his grasp. Whenever
he engaged with Thompson and Alex, Brody was on him again like he was a
practice dummy in wrestling. This was very difficult for poor
Christian. The sensation of Brody's sleek, hard body on his nearly sent him
into a frenzy. He exerted every bit of his willpower in keeping his cock
flaccid, and luckily the cool waist-deep water helped with concealment (and
taming). Several times when Brody wrapped his legs around him and gleefully
hung on him ("God help me" Christian pleaded) he could have sworn he felt a
rod flexing into his buttock, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.

At last Hunter, Bailey and Leslie came down to join them in the water. This
had a conflicting effect on Christian since Brody's attention was now
diverted to Leslie, and while it meant some rest for his crotch, it meant
no rest for his jealousy. Brody didn't stop paying attention to him, but he
was more concerned with hoisting the girl onto his shoulders and, laughing
uproariously, tossing her into a fireman's carry and marching around with
his prize. Hunter brought out a football and they had a glorious game of
keep-away from the girls and Christian, who was unfortunately lumped in
with them. At about noon Brody retreated from the sun ("I'm roasting like a
kielbasa") and went back to the condo for lunch. Christian joined him
almost on compulsion and they sat together on the porch looking out over
the ocean.

Smacking his lips and briskly wiping his fingers, Brody began officiously,
"So for tonight," like he was outlining a government policy. Christian
rolled his eyes internally. Did this kid ever stop planning?

"I was thinking we'd bike instead of drive to the party, there's a rental
place down the beach. Have you ever been to a house party?"

Christian shook his head.

"They're actually pretty boring. The music's inevitably too loud and
everyone stands around pretending not to feel awkward. They have utility if
you're looking to score though." (A naughty expression was on his face)

"There's nothing like laying claim to a stranger's bed."

"Right." Christian answered stiffly. The revolting image trickled into his
mind of Brody rutting into Leslie atop some rich old person's fourpost
bed. He suppressed the urge to gag.

"Hey, you may get lucky. There's plenty of girls who'd stoop to your
level."

"Thanks."

Douchebag.

"Assuming you'd even know what to do if they did." Brody was playing idly
with his paper plate, his legs extended from his chair onto the balcony
railing.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Christian suddenly felt in the hunter's
sights. Brody swiveled his head towards him like an owl.

"Inexperienced with alcohol, inexperienced with parties, inexperienced
with...everything." He lowered his gaze deliberately to Christian's crotch,
who absurdly crossed his legs, as if Brody was seeing through his shorts.

"I..." He could lie. He could invent some girl and a summer camp scenario
to refute Brody's insinuation, but when those dark eyes were peering at
him, Christian felt he could sooner jump to the moon than tell a convincing
falsehood. Their influence was like a fishing line on a little trout,
reeling him back in whenever he tried to escape.

"I'm not judging. It doesn't reflect badly on you, quite the opposite"
Brody said encouragingly. "Don't fuck whatever skank slithers your way just
to lose your V. When the time comes, it'll happen naturally."

Christian felt comfortable again. "Is that how it went for you?" He
ventured, trying not to sound too curious. Brody grimaced.

"No. Mine was a foreign exchange student from Spain, part of a group my
school was hosting for a summer. The Spaniards develop, uh, a bit earlier?
At 15 this girl was well-versed and I was a tender thing at thirteen. The
experience was more..."

He ran his hand through his hair uncomfortably.

"...Bewildering than pleasurable. Afterwards she didn't even speak to me."

Christian listened to the strange tale, wondering at how weird and normal
Brody could be simultaneously. He hazarded another question, one that he
was genuinely curious about. Maybe too probing, but he had no idea of his
age group's averages.

"Sooo... how many? Total, I mean."

Brody smiled at his frankness.

"Five."

Christian was surprised and it showed on his face.

"Really? I would have assumed tons more." Brody looked taken aback at this
for some reason.

"Why?"

"Well... you flirt with girls a lot and go to parties..." Christian tried
to relate his train of thought as gently as possible, but inside felt
confused. Why was Brody playing stupid? Hadn't he just crowed about sexual
conquests on party hosts' beds?

"So you're saying I'm a manwhore?" Brody said with a rising voice.

"No! I mean you've had girlfriends, so it's not like you're sleeping
around." That was purely a guess, and unfortunately a wrong one.

"I've never had a girlfriend, which you damn well know. Sorry not everyone
can be as spotless and squeaky clean as Mr. Carter," Brody said, tossing
his plate onto the deck and rising.

"What the- dude no!" Brody just raised his hand and stormed into the condo,
but Christian would be damned if they fell out over something this
stupid. Outrage made him bold. He ran up and spun Brody around.

"Listen to me!" The fire in his face made him want to shrink, but he
persevered. When he was angry, Brody's face seemed to physically alter. His
cheekbones and jaw sharpened and his eyes glinted.

"Ok, maybe I DID assume something bad about you. I guess you're right, I'm
clueless. I shouldn't take social media for real life but it's hard when
everyone looks like they're living like movie stars, except you. Y'know?"

Brody's expression softened and he looked rueful.

`It's ok. I overreacted. It's my fault really, I help create that
impression of myself."

"You do talk big," Christian said pointedly. Brody chuckled. "So what's
that about `social media'? You been browsing my pages like a little
voyeur?"

Fuck, Christian thought, right back on the defensive.

"Sorta. Your Instagram anyway."

"Hmm," Brody purred, stepping closer. "What were your favorite pictures?"

"Uhh..." For the life of him, Christian couldn't recall a single entry
besides the photo stream of Brody's luscious body, the one which, though
now clad in a t-shirt, was drifting towards him as inexorably as an
iceberg.

"The party one," He said as lamely as humanly possible. Brody shook his
head and snorted with mirth.

"Try again."

"Just never mind man, there were no favorites" Christian said with
finality, trying to step around him. Brody moved anticipating his
evasion. He still had that maddeningly knowing smirk on his face.

"C'mon. Out of your close perusal of my pics there were NONE you preferred?
Not a one?" He seized Christian's sides and began tickling him
unmercifully. His victim shrieked chicken-winged his arms to stop the
assault.

"No, no favorites! Let me go you bully!" He bent almost double to minimize
the area of attack, and Brody pushed him over the back of the couch. He
tried to rise but Brody grabbed the back of his neck and held him there.

"Not until you tell me what you like." The question was phrased so oddly,
Christian wondered what exactly they were talking about. But he feared he
knew.

"Wuh-What?" He felt utterly ridiculous. His only view was the couch
cushions, but a birds eye view would show him bent over the couch, Brody
assertively standing tall with a commanding arm over his prey.

"You tell me what. you. like." Without releasing his neck Brody bent too,
draping himself over Christian who suppressed a shudder. The hand pivoted
to wrap around his throat, but withheld any pressure. It was just there for
control.

"I liked the wrestling pictures the most, happy?" Christian tried to rewind
back to the simpler question. By now accustomed to Brody's physicality,
still he never felt this dominated. Not being able to see his face, only
feeling his breath on his cheek and his hard belly rhythmically moving
against his lower back, was causing blood to rush to his dick.

"And the reason for that was...?" Brody didn't so much speak this question,
as breathe it into Christian's ear. He slid his hand up to Christian's jaw,
levering his head back and forcing his mouth open. Christian gulped with
difficulty, and fought mightily to preserve his composure.

"It was cool to see you win a match," He burbled out in
desperation. Anything to end this episode and stop his poor raging cock
from making him believe this was more than a power play. Never, ever should
he think that. Thankfully he heard the thump of footsteps up the staircase,
and in a moment Brody was gone, striding back to the balcony.

"Jesus Christ," Christian sighed to himself, as Thompson beelined into the
bathroom and released a torrent of piss,

"What am I going to do about him?"

Brody was clearly testing boundaries, seeing how far Christian could be
pushed before...what? He went over the brink into lustful insanity,
whereupon Brody would immediately disengage and mock him? Christian hadn't
forgotten his behavior just a few days ago, and reminded himself Brody had
a dark streak. Even at this stage in their developing friendship, it'd be
unwise to let his guard down completely.

"Still," He thought as he sank onto his bed and fished for his phone,
"Why's he doing this?" There was no need to prove dominance anymore, right?
That had pretty much been established, the pecking order was basically set
in stone. They were getting along now, Christian was no longer some enemy
that needed subjugation. These displays should be subsiding, not
intensifying. And now that he considered it, he had a hard time imagining
Brody pulling this type of stunt with Hunter or Alex.

Christian became conscious that he was very sleepy after that meal, and
drifted off. It was late afternoon when he awoke, and he rejoined the group
in frolicking in the water for several hours. By sundown it was time to
prepare for the party so they all took speedy showers to desalinize
themselves. Christian chose a pair on jeans and one of his tees, instantly
feeling outclassed by Brody who was buttoning up a pristine azure tailored
shirt.

"Is that what you're wearing?"

"It's the beach, everyone will be dressed like this" said Christian with
false assurance. Brody just rolled his eyes with disbelief and grabbed the
hem of Christian's faded t-shirt, pulling upwards.

"What're you doing?!" he said with his belly exposed.

"You're wearing one of mine tonight, now come on, UP." Christian
compliantly raised his arms and the shirt was whisked off him. Brody chose
a purple button-down while he foolishly stood half-naked, feeling oddly
more exposed than when wearing a bathing suit.

"This one's perfect," Brody said, holding the shirt up and comparing it to
Christian at eye level like a fashion connoisseur. Christian reached for it
but Brody slapped his hand away.

"You'll get your greasy fingers all over it. I saw how you were eating that
burger, fucking gross." Christian's mouth flopped open at this
absurdity. It was fine for the shirt to touch his entire body, but not his
hands? But he said nothing. Brody went behind him and raised one arm after
the other, sliding the shirt over his back before coming around to the
front. Christian inhaled Brody's smell, that scent unique to him alone. He
felt enveloped by it.

"Looks good," Brody said approvingly, adjusting the collar and smoothing
the plackets down. The slight skin to skin touch gave Christian
goosebumps. He made to fasten the buttons, but again Brody swatted his
hands and began to do them himself.

"Remember to stick close tonight, okay?" He intoned quietly, his head bowed
as he concentrated on his work, making his way up Christian's torso.

"Okay." Christian watched the nimble white fingers steadily go. Their
foreheads were almost touching.

"One of these college slags might get you in their claws" He explained,
"And I wouldn't put it beyond some horny frat Neanderthal to try and get a
piece of that ass."

Christian sniggered. "I thought you wanted me to get lucky."

Brody completed the buttons, fixed the collar once more and ran both hands
down Christian's front, smoothing the shirt out one final time.

"Let's get moving."

It was a short drive but would have been an extremely long walk. Beyond the
stretch of hotels, condos and restaurants was a bay area and a tree-lined,
upscale neighborhood. The homes were mainly two-story Spanish style with
impressive porticos and lofty towers exalting into the tropical foliage
surrounding them.

"Whew" Brody whistled as they cruised by a haughty three-story mansion,
"These people know how to live. Bet some of these places are national
landmarks."

They spotted the party by the crush of vehicles outside, and the muffled
boom of music that swelled to a roar whenever a door opened. Brody parked
well away to spare his truck a collision ("Some drunk idiot trying to back
out"), and they went up the sidewalk together. The house was more modern
and modest than its neighbors, but still staggeringly expensive given the
location. People were milling around the front with red cups and beer
bottles. Girls wearing sequined skin-tight dresses and tall guys bedecked
in neon polos or designer v-necks with flat caps and shiny watches; they
looked so much older. Christian had rarely felt more intimidated when they
cast appraising glances at him and Brody, and felt the strong urge to flee
to the safety of the truck. But Brody strode right on in, paying them no
mind. Once inside one appreciated how well the home was insulated. It was
such a confusion of sound and noise as the bass thudded and people squeezed
passed each other in all directions, that Christian readily obeyed Brody's
advice to stick close. He saw that guys and girls were looking their way,
and the girl's eyes lingered on them both, but especially on
Brody. Christian followed him like a dog and wondered at their destination,
until Brody hailed Hunter through a window.

"Sup bro, get out here and play pong!"

A beerpong game was raging, and Hunter's team had lost two members. They
joined in enthusiastically, Christian grateful to have something to do. A
new round started with fresh beer and he acquitted himself nicely, but a
flaxen-haired boy on the other team had great aim.

"Lil bro you got nothin' on Jax here," Exclaimed an older taller boy on the
other team. He was fairly obnoxious and spent every other second with his
tongue down his girlfriend's mouth. She was a very pretty brunette, and
besides paying due attention to her hungry man, she always seemed to be
scanning the room. Several times her eyes alighted on Brody. Christian lost
count of the cups of lager he downed, but continued on undeterred. They
kept pace with their opponents and Christian felt proud his hand-eye
coordination was picking up notice as Brody and Hunter shouted with
approval when he sank one. But flaxen-hair simply couldn't miss, and as the
beer went down, it didn't improve Christian's aim. Alcohol had the
unexpected side effect of blurred vision, apparently, but it made him very
jolly and he completely forgot his anxiousness. Annoyingly, one of their
opponents would make out with his girlfriend every time he scored

At some point the game was abandoned, and Christian was talking to a
friendly group of seniors. Then at a dining table scooping an unknown
concoction into a cup from a punchbowl. Then he was on a couch chatting
with a cute girl in a pink skirt who batted false eyelashes at him. His
vision was still unfocused so her face was indistinct, but her shape seemed
appealing. Besides, she laughed at everything he said so readily, it
occurred to Christian that booze made him wittier than normal. And though
his senses were slightly dulled, the way she caressed his thigh felt very
good indeed. Her long-nailed hand went closer to his crotch as if it had a
mind of its own and her face, still indistinct, swayed closer to his
own. Suddenly the noise swelled behind him and Christian was hauled up from
the couch by the armpits.

"Wut thu ffuuuck?" He slurred, stumbling slightly as his accoster pulled
him along. A pair of lips pressed to his ear roughly.

"Trust me bro, not a good idea. That slag's had half the state." Brody's
words vibrated right into his eardrum making him almost weak in the
knees. Confusion reigned until a plastic stick was pushed into his hand,
and the lights dimmed, causing a collective squeal of excitement. The music
increased its pace and everyone was dancing in a phosphorescent sea.

"Crack your glowstick!" Brody grinned at him. He complied and looked back
up, but the throng had pushed Brody away from him. Christian had never
danced before, but moved as it felt natural, twisting and gyrating as the
music moved from around him to inside him. He let it wash him away and
remove every thought and anxiety, there was nothing but the music and he
worshipped it with movement. The crowd swirled so he danced alongside a
succession of people, growing more enthusiastic as the music grew even
louder. At one point he saw Brody dancing with a girl who curiously
resembled that pretty brunette. He contemplated saying something, but found
himself rubbing against something round and soft: pink skirt was before him
again. Her back was to him and she was sliding like a snake over his
body. He'd never felt anything like it! He ran his hands down her sides and
curvy hips, then across her belly, noting through his stupefied state how
yielding it was compared to Brody's. It didn't feel great but there was no
denying the sensations she was causing. A large bottle was being passed
around, and Christian gratefully took a gulp. It tasted like bad fruit but
he reckoned it was worth it to sustain this feeling. Pink skirt took a
healthy drink as well and turned around this time. Christian felt something
hot and moist on his mouth, then inside his mouth. When her hand
constricted down below he realized his cock was trying to burst through his
zipper. The bottle rotated around the room on its axis, but before it
landed pink skirt was guiding him through the crowd.

"Let's find a room!" She shouted in his ear above the music.

It took Christian some time to process the words. A room? They were already
in a room. Did she mean the bathroom? He didn't have to pee. Suddenly their
progress was interrupted by a garbled roar from outside. Everyone was
turning and straining towards the French doors with great
excitement. Christian's hand parted from hers as he joined the throng.

"Let's go bro! Let's fucking go! Come on you little fucking bitch!"

The music was turned off just before Christian heard a meaty smack followed
by an "OOOhhh!" from the crowd. Some were murmuring, some shouting, some
laughing. Christian finally managed to peek through a window and saw a
confused jumble of motion, bodies being shoved and pulled to and fro. But
even through the disorder and his own impairment, he made out Brody being
restrained by Thompson and some strangers, and the obnoxious boy from the
beerpong table being held back by some others. The latter was spitting with
rage and had a cut on his nose.

"Touch my girl again you fucking bitch! C'MON!"

He twined round his captors and charged for Brody. At the same time one of
his friends shoved Thompson away as an obstacle, and in a moment they were
fighting. The older boy was raining blows down on Brody who was trying to
give as good as he got, but was quickly becoming overwhelmed, and started
defending his head rather than throwing punches. One slipped by his guard
and his black hair went flurrying from the impact. He seemed to remember
his training however and dove for the older boys legs. Grabbing him behind
the knees he bulled him to the ground and began hammering down with his
fists from a full mount. While this was going on, Christian was struggling
to push his way past the crowd, adrenaline realigning all his senses. The
older boy had struggled to his knees and was rallying back, while Thompson
was involved in a struggle of his own. Without thinking at all of the
consequences, Christian launched himself in a flying tackle on Brody's
opponent. He wasn't heavy enough to bring him down immediately, and the
larger boy reeled but stayed upright. Christian powered with his legs and
completed the takedown. His left arm was pinned against Christian and his
right was crushed underneath his side.

"Stop!" Christian told him

"Fuck you faggot, get off me!"

That wasn't an option, and Christian had no idea what to do now. He twisted
his head to look for Brody but the scrum had increased in size and the
crowd was bellowing. Suddenly he was lifted bodily off his erstwhile
prisoner, who was thankfully swarmed by his friends. In the confusion he
heard the word "cops" repeated endlessly and they soon saw why. Red and
blue lights flickered through the house windows and shimmered around its
edges. The crowd which was piling at the doors and streaming out through
the sides, but Brody yanked him perpendicular to the crush, batting his way
through the yard's dense shrubbery at the back. Christian followed
unquestioningly and they ran through the manicured gardens of several
neighboring houses, crushing untold plants underfoot and stumbling over
tree roots. Brody then paused to get his bearings. They were breathing
hard. In the relative darkness away from the party they felt like hunted
beasts, every sense alive and keen for survival. Brody motioned and they
cut left towards the street. A tall hedge formed a narrow alley with the
home they were trespassing on, and Brody peeked around the edge to scan the
street.

"There's my truck, let's go!"

They scampered for the vehicle illuminated under a streetlight, a beacon
lighting the way for their escape. Piling in Brody started the engine and
roared away as Christian craned back in his seat, watching the strobe of
the cop cars fade into the night.

"What the hell was that?"

"Cops arrived to break up the party, obviously. Not surprising someone
called them, given the demographics of this place."

"Not what I meant, dude."

Brody didn't look at him when he answered,

"I'll explain at home. Let me concentrate here."

Christian complied but he was fuming. That morning he'd recognized
hypocrisy as being part of Brody's nature, and it was amusing then but not
now. Those patronizing, I've-got-things-well-in-hand older brother lectures
about do's and don'ts at a party, and what does he do? Evidently feel up
some college guy's girlfriend, start a fight and get the entire night
ruined. The kid who's house that was inevitably grounded for eternity and
possibly arrested, along with who knows how many others for underage
drinking.

"And what about us?" Christian thought, dread creeping upon him like a
specter.

Sure they had fled successfully, but dozens of people had recorded the
fight on their phones. If the police wanted to pursue charges there was no
shortage of evidence. At the very least, their names and faces would be
plastered all over tiktok. Christian began to hyperventilate as the
implications washed over him. Suspension from school, charges, the fear and
humiliation of deputies arriving at their front door. No scholarships, no
gymnastics, his future ruined. It submerged him in a miasmic pool of
terror, and made him feel sick. An imminent feeling came over him as the
adrenaline subsided.

"Stop the truck" he heard himself say thickly.

"We're almost there, I said we'll talk later" Brody said impatiently

"Gonna puke, STOP THE TRUCK."

Brody pulled over on the main drag and Christian unleashed a torrent of
vomit. It tasted of bad fruit and stomach acid, and the sound of it
sloshing up his throat redoubled his nausea. He let loose again and again
until his throat burned and sealed itself shut.

"Oooohhh God," he moaned, sitting back in his seat and weakly pulling the
door closed. "Oh Jesus Christ." He fumbled for the spare water in the
console and gulped it down, relieving some of the sandpaper sensation in
his throat. They pulled into the condo space moments later, Brody swiftly
coming around to his side and inspecting the interior leather.

"Did you get any on my truck?" He asked, aiming his phone light around
suspiciously. This was just insulting now. Of all the things to be
concerned about it wasn't Christian's welfare, or the people who's night he
ruined, or their own decimated futures, it was a bit of vomit on daddy's
gift for his spoiled, selfish son.

"No Brody," Christian croaked, willing his voice to work, "I didn't puke on
your PRECIOUS FUCKING TRUCK!!"

"Whoah man, chill!" He had the audacity to be taken aback.

Christian grabbed the keys from his hand and stomped up the stairs, opening
the door with a bang as it bounced off the springstop. He grabbed another
water from the fridge and chugged it as Brody came up too, his hands
outstretched in a "what did I do" pose.

"Well primma donna, you wanted to talk, out with it."

Christian chucked the bottle into the sink and shoved Brody as hard as he
could. He tumbled backwards and landed in the bathroom.

"What was that, are you crazy?!"

"No Brody, YOU'RE fucking crazy! What are you thinking, making out with a
girl you KNOW has a boyfriend?"

"Hey she was perfectly willing, in fact she came on to me!" Brody defended,
rising to his feet.

"You knew she was plastered drunk, you knew she had a boyfriend, and you
did NOTHING to stop her. This whole thing is your fault!"

"My fault?!" Brody's face was darkening. "I get sexually assaulted by some
bimbo then physically assaulted by her dickhead of a boyfriend, and you
blame ME? Even all that aside, I've no idea why you're so agitated. These
things can happen at social gatherings, kid, apologies for not making that
clear. Next time I'll devise an entire list of scenarios, maybe put them in
a nice binder, or give you a goddamn powerpoint. Would that be sufficiently
like schoolwork for your taste?"

Sarcasm marinated his tone, and Christian could only shake his head in
disbelief. Was this guy incapable of accepting responsibility for anything?

"If you don't know you were wrong Brody, then you're fucking hopeless. I
WILL put that aside. What I WON'T put aside is this: Yeah we escaped. But
everyone filmed that fight and it's going on the internet. The school will
know about it, and the principle and our parents, and THE FUCKING COPS!!"

He screamed the last three words and the mocking expression Brody wore slid
off his face. He stared blankly at Christian, as still as a scarecrow.

"Yep," Christian said sarcastically, glad he was getting through yet still
angry at Brody's obtuseness, "Y'think they won't be interested to see that
video, especially once the kid's parents get involved? The kid's we fought
AND the host's parents? They'll be very fucking interested, Brody!"

His voice grew quieter and more pleading as the fight drained out of
him. Brody just stared at him open-mouthed, similarly tired-looking and
bewildered.

"At LEAST we'll be suspended or expelled, man. Say goodbye to gym and
wrestling too, no way they'll allow us back. Still think it's no big deal,
you fuckin' warrior tough guy? Just a fun fuckin' night out?"

Tears were forming in his eyes now as hopelessness set in. Maybe he was
exaggerating the danger and this would all blow over, and Brody's
nonchalance would be vindicated. Perhaps his catastrophizing would be
revealed as the immature mindset of a child, and Brody would laugh and have
a playful dig at him weeks or months from now, about how silly his
unworldly little companion was on that rip-roaring beach vacation. But
Christian didn't feel like that now. He felt that Brody had just been
lucky, and the luck was now washing down the drain along with the pair of
them.

"I just," he choked through a sob, "Want you to fucking...just..." Tears
then streamed down his face and he broke down sobbing, all his artificial
fury evaporating. He drew his arms around himself and cried bitterly, a
truer expression of his feelings than anything he'd uttered. Brody's dazed
look lingered for a second before he tentatively approached.

"Chris?" He said softly, touching him with gentle hands to feel his
response, not wanting another shove. Feeling no resistance he carefully
folded the sobbing bundle into his arms. Despite his anger Christian
huddled into his chest and allowed himself to be held.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, I just let my emotions carry me
along. That's my own stupid problem and I'm so, so sorry you got dragged
into this. Whatever happens-" He momentarily released Christian to raise
his chin, so he could look him in the eye, "I'm gonna do everything
possible to keep you out of trouble. No matter what it is. Okay?"

Christian nodded gloomily and squinched his eyes closed, causing more tears
to cascade down. Brody reembraced him, petting the back of his head and
swaying in place.

"I think we should go to bed now."

Just the mention of the word "bed" sapped whatever strength Christian had
left, and they tottered into the bedroom whereupon Christian stripped and
eased himself into bed. Brody locked the door and reduced them to pitch
blackness before undressing himself. To Christian's surprise and
consternation, Brody nudged him to move over before getting into bed with
him. Christian settled himself into his miniaturized space and was too
tired to protest, and feeling Brody's velvety skin brush against his own,
that idea fled his mind in an instant. The other boy turned on his side to
face him, still invisible in the blackness.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"I never thanked you for coming to my aid. It took a lot of courage to
tackle that guy. You're a really good friend."

Christian felt warmth bloom in his chest.

"You said we're gonna get through whatever happens. Can we..." He
swallowed. Brody listened expectantly. "...get through it together? Be
there for each other?"

He sounded so weak and needy saying it, and part of him resented himself
for not being angrier. But Brody reached up and ran his fingers through
Christian's hair, making him sigh in relaxation.

"I'll be here every step of the way." He paused. "If the cops come here or
call us, don't say anything except we wanna talk to our parents. In fact we
should call them tomorrow morning."

Christian groaned. It was almost preferable when Brody was being
irresponsible.

"Ok." Just then a thought occurred to him alongside a smack of guilt for
not thinking of it earlier.

"Dude, do you think the others made it out alright?"

Brody stiffened and sat upright, tensed like he was going to spring, but
then fell back into bed with a defeated sigh.

"Fuck. Too late to do anything now and I'm exhausted. We'll call them too
first thing."

Christian nodded in the pillow they were sharing, feeling unbelievably
weary. He was fading fast.

"G'night, Brody."

"Goodnight buddy. Sleep well."



End of Chapter 5