Title: Swallowed
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, post-Mallrats
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: NC-17 if I don't start hallucinating again; otherwise it'll drop into R territory as I fight my way out of the story and back to bed.
Status: posted 28 February 2002
Archive: The traditional places. If you don't know what the traditional places are, you might want to write and ask. And here's how:
Feedback: Kelandris
Series/Sequels: Origin story, no downline. Fer as I know. Followed by "Break of Day"
Disclaimers: To the best of my recollection, this is intended as a work of satire and/or fannish devotion, with no more weight against the Powers that Be than a feather. I make no direct income from these stories and I explicitly reserve all rights to all View Askew characters to Kevin Smith, View Askew Productions, Jason Mewes and Scott Mosier.
Notes: Songfic, though it's odd. The words are from the Ani diFranco song, "Sick of Me". But the tale was actually inspired from "Swallowed" by Bush. Haven't been online the past three or so days, as you might have noticed, because I got hammered a few days back with something bad that's cruising the area. Within a day I had heavy fluid on the lungs and a fever that scared me. Even now I'm not breathing really well, but I'm doing a little better. This is my vain attempt at *not* writing another one-of-the-boys-gets-sick story when I'm sick.
Summary: Bob dreams of Jay naked. And then figures out why.
Warnings: Elements of the non-consensual, oddly enough. Somewhat Talkative!Bob. Homosexuality, fellatio, bondage, bondage toys. Male/male kissing, some anger, some confusion, lots of pretty-boy motifs wandering around. Oh, and the song's a bit confusing--it's a perfect Jay-head piece, but I'm writing from Bob-perspective, and using it anyway. Also LONG. And I think it clocks in at about eight pages too long. And I think it's something Bob wouldn't do. Maybe I *am* hallucinating.

("Bitch, just write. They fuckin' get it already.")
("Pushy damn figment. I'm getting to it.")
("*What?*") ("I *tol'* you about that `figment' shit!")
("Lemme `lone, Jay, I'm sick!")


by Kelandris the Mad

The man on the sofa stared at the can of beer he held, nearly visibly snarling. His dark hair fell across his face, and with a sigh of irritation, he shook it away and looked up. He watched his roommate play his round on the game, spinning his skateboard in midair before landing on it again with an animal yell. Long wings of golden hair obscured his face, but the man in the Blizzard of Ozz tee didn't need to see his roommate's face to reconstruct it, line by beloved line.

**Rewind that shit. We are *not* going there tonight.**

*how sick of me
must you be
by now*

Right. He nodded, unaware of the movement, and took another sip of beer. It was thin, watery, and vaguely bitter, traveling the line of his tongue like a drop of acid mixed with mercury.

**Fuckin' cheap-ass beer...** Bob thought resentfully. **Thought I taught the boy better than that...**

Apparently he hadn't. It was a can, even, making him twitch whenever he looked down at the cylinder in his hand. He was so used to the smooth, clean feel of glass on his palm. Aluminum always felt--wrong, somehow. He wasn't sure why. He even preferred pop out of bottles, not cans. It was just a preference.

Like what he felt for--

**Fuck that. We are *not thinking* about that tonight. Shit, do you want to get that fucked up again?**

*while you're standing just outside
of what your pride will allow*

Seemed like, the last week had been a blur. He'd always had dreams about his roommate, from nearly the first day the kid had moved in, and he'd fought all his urges, keeping things calm. And it hadn't been easy. Lately, all he seemed to think of was grabbing Jay, throwing him against the nearest alley wall and fucking him until they couldn't stand up anymore. Just driving into him, driving between the cheeks of that sweet ass--that Jay had shown him on more than one occasion, confusingly enough--driving into him until he got a little of the want out of his system.

What would that take? What, three, four weeks of fucking his roommate? Solid? Shit.

*always reaching into yourself
to find a new way to understand me
when I'm sure that there's no one else
in the world
who could withstand me*

And the dreams of kissing that mouth, endlessly kissing that wickedly agile mouth that hid such an active, sharply pointed tongue...He knew that, too, because when Jay got high, he had a tendency to grab whatever was nearby and kiss it, rub against it, moan and feel. This was part of why Bob stayed close to him at parties, to keep some distance between Jay and the freaks.

The rest of the reason was much more selfish--so he'd be the one Jay grabbed and kissed.

**Shit. Shit. This isn't helping.**

*the first person in your life
to ever really matter
is saying the last thing
that you want to hear*

Bob shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to ease the sudden straining pressure of cloth across something that was beating an impatient tattoo of muscle twitches on his belly and underneath his clothes. Shit. This was the definition of fucked up. Here we have a confused kid on the one side, obviously likes girls, but maybe somewhere down deep likes guys too, and then, we have good, old, dependable Bob. Muscle Bob. Protector Bob. Never hurt Jay Bob. Only, if he broke down and pulled Jay into that scorching kiss parts of his anatomy wanted him to do now, would that be a violation of the trust Jay placed in him?

Shit, did Jay even *know* what he wanted?

*and you are listening hard
through the splintering shards
of your life as it shatters*

He took another sip of beer, and grimaced. Damn. Grain belt madness. He was never letting Jay buy the beer again. And there it was again, that bitter, acidic bite. The first four cans he'd had over the last four days, he remembered now, they'd had that same acidic tang to them, like sucking on pennies or something. Maybe he was getting sick or something, because it was one can and out. And then the same, torturing dream.

*Always the same, the dream, always the same...He's on the couch, and Jay's kneeling at his feet, so pretty. He brushes his long hair out of his face, and looks up ruefully.

*"Shit, you'll hate me for this," he hears Jay say softly. And then hands, hands reaching for his pants, hands pulling at him to lift his hips. And he does. And he's wanting this, wanting, wanting everything. And Jay's right with him, wrapping his arms around him, kissing him, warm and willing and pliant in his arms.*

It wasn't that different from other dreams he'd had of Jay, though usually they were somewhere else other than their battered apartment. Wandering the library of Morpheus, or laying on the sand, moonlight silvering their skin, warm blue water lapping their hips. Or drifting through space in an observation dome, starlight like sparks in the darkness, clothes floating around them as they kissed, and licked, and stroked, and thrust against each other, spinning together, locked in a twisting helix of conjoined flesh.

He shook his head, blinking. He felt kind of dizzy. And he was definitely obsessing at this point. Trapped in a pair of pretty blue eyes.

*And Jay's with him, Jay's in his arms again, thrusting against him, complaining about too many clothes. And he laughs a little, helping Jay undress, helping Jay undress him, and then that wicked mouth scorches kisses across his skin. From lips to chin, from throat to nipples, from belly to thigh and finally, finally, Jay's mouth where he's ached for it to be.

*And Jay looks up, his eyes dark with want, and sadness. And Bob always wants to ask, wants to ask why, and then he's swallowed.*

*and you're standing firm
and you're staying close
and you're seeing clear*

His hands were trembling now, and he blinked away another spate of dizziness. Carefully he leaned forward, setting his can of beer next to Jay's. Fuck this. Let him finish the shit. And he leaned back against the couch, watching the screen.

After a few minutes, Jay looked over, cocking his head to one side.

"How you feel, dude?"

"Mmm," was all Bob felt like saying.

Jay finished the round, saved the game, and leaned over, lifting his can of beer. He shook it. No sloshing sound emerged, and the blond nodded, moving to the couch.

"Just when I thought I couldn't fuckin' sink lower," he murmured, sitting down on the couch.


Jay inched closer, staring at him. Then he leaned forward, kissing him. It wasn't long before he'd scrambled into Bob's lap, and Bob was still achingly hard from remembering the dream, and Jay rolled his hips against Bob's, moaning.

"Oh, yeah, big boy," he breathed, in between kisses. "Fuck yeah..."

And now it seemed as if his dream was playing out now. Was he dreaming? Each night previous this week, he'd woken up in his bed, so he must have been dreaming. Because his last memory was sitting on the couch, drinking beer, and then watching as Jay moved...to the... couch...and...

**What the hell?**

*I took to the stage
with my outrage
in the bad old days
when you were the make-me-mad guy*

But Jay was kissing him, driving all thinking far, far away, and now the blond was pulling down the waistband of his sweats, reaching inside. Fingers curled around his cock, and he arched off the couch, gasping, looking at Jay's quirky smile.

"Yeah, baby," he said. And he knelt between Bob's open legs, pulling down the sweats, pulling down his shorts, always managing to keep at least a finger moving along his twitching length. He looked up, biting his lip, and for a moment Bob was trapped in shifting depths of sapphire, looking into Jay's eyes. Then Jay closed his eyes, and swallowed him whole.


Every nerve ending he had seemed suddenly to end at the tip of his penis. And Jay knew where they all were, licking and sucking and curling his tongue around the tip, running his tongue along the shaft. Bob moaned, but Jay was moaning even louder, and he realized Jay wasn't touching him with anything but his mouth. He nearly came right then, thinking that Jay was so aroused by sucking on him, that he had to wrap his hands around his own cock and...

**Fuck this.**

He pulled Jay off, Jay's mouth making a loud popping sound, before filling the air with protests. Those were cut off soon enough when Bob kissed him, and then undressed him, throwing clothes everywhere until Jay was naked. Then Bob stood, tossing what little remained on him to the four winds.

He smiled, breathless, and pulled Jay to the carpet, thrusting against him, kissing him, stroking his hands down Jay's pale, lightly muscled sides. Soon Jay was nearly shrieking with want, hands pulling at him, and fuck, there wasn't any lube, or forget that, no condom anywhere nearby, and what the hell could they do now?

And as if he'd heard, Jay shot to his feet, running for his room. Any other day, it might have been a ludicrous sight--pale-ass white boy, cock hard and twitching, bobbing as he ran for his room, long hair flying behind him like Mercury's wings. But it made Bob's heart clench, and he bit his lip, realizing it wasn't going to take long once Jay got back. He'd been dreaming about this for so long...

Wait. He had, hadn't he? Pretty close to this, anyway. All this week, in fact. What the hell?

Cocking his head to one side, he listened, and Jay was still rummaging through things, cursing loudly. He had a little time. He grabbed the beer, walking quickly to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and pouring his beer into it. His eyes narrowed when he saw the trace of cloud in the fluid, narrowed further when the dregs of the can revealed traces of non-dissolved white grains.

**That...*fuckhead*...Drugging me. *Drugging* me!**

His hands clenched on the edge of the counter.

**Drugging *me!* *Why*?**

He listened again for Jay, cursing louder now, while his head spun in dizzy circles. Betrayal, this all felt horribly like betrayal, and he couldn't take this, not from him, not from Jay, not from the man he--loved--

**Shit. No. No, no. Work it. Work it. Why?**

**To have his way with you, Bobby,** said a manic little voice in his head. **Because he couldn't have you any other way.**

**But he could have. All he had to do was--**

And the light slowly dawned. Dazed, he wandered back into the living room, sitting down. He realized as he did so that he was still painfully hard, even after everything he'd discovered. He could have carved patterns in the bathroom tile, he was that hard. So hard he ached for release. For Jay.

*but the songs
they come out more slowly
now that I am the bad guy*

**Yeah, and how about that? You're willing to sit here while he searches for God-only-knows-what, and let's talk about him drugging you again, huh? Why didn't Jay just ask you?**

Yeah, that conversation would've gone well, huh? `Hey, Bob, mind if I bone ya?' Bob would've stared at him.

**Yeah, but would you have said yes?**

Fuck if he knew. One hand dropped into his lap, fingers circling his cock. He found his way to gasping quickly, almost too quickly, and pressed his fingers hard just behind the head, breathing as calmly as he could.

*Shit. Shit. I want him so bad--**

And he did. That was the awful truth. He was willing to consent to what amounted to rape, *would* be rape if he'd drunk enough of that stuff to forget what happened tonight, tomorrow, all from wanting him. And his mind reeled again as he remembered the dream, remembered he'd had it four nights running. Four nights on whatever- it-was--how many brain cells had he lost?

Well, he was still smarter than Jay, because the shit was stupid enough to drug him in the first place.

His eyes glittered dangerously when Jay finally ran out, pouting.

"Man, I cannot *believe* this! Fuckin' out of everything, the night you finally want to--"

"Huh?" Bob said carefully.

"I'm sorry," Jay whispered. "Tomorrow, huh? I'll go shoppin'."

**I'll just bet you will,** Bob thought, but he only looked around. He moved to rise, but Jay's arms wrapped around his waist prevented him. And then those luscious, hungry lips were wrapped around him again, pulling him in, swallowing him.

Fuck the ethics. He tossed his head back, bracing on his outstretched arms, and let Jay suck him. Pleasure swept over him in waves, and soon he was moaning again, thrusting his hips against Jay's face, and Jay's hands were pulling him forward. They moaned in concert, and Bob was breathing hard, wanting Jay fiercely, wanting Jay to be his.

And an idea occurred to him. Yeah. That could work. And the thought of it drove him over the edge, brought him helpless and trembling to the screaming point, and he filled Jay's mouth and watched him swallow every drop.

Afterwards, his legs like Jell-O, Jay helped him up, helped him into bed. He wasn't sure if he'd leaned down to check his eyes, or if he had actually brushed a kiss lightly across his hair. It would be better to know, but he'd be happy if he could just remember the events of now, a few hours from now. And thinking that, he fell asleep.


*and I say, I'm sorry I'm so crazy
I am astounded by your patience*

The next morning, Bob woke with an oddly jumbled head. He wasn't hung over, but memories of last night were oddly fragmentary. He remembered drinking that awful shit-can beer that Jay'd brought home, and watching Jay play the video game, and Jay blowing him, and watching a movie--

Wait. Go back one. Jay *blowing* him?

After a heartbeat's pause, it all came flooding back, including the idea, and Bob smiled grimly, getting dressed. He checked the time; good, Jay wouldn't be up for a few hours yet. He called a cab, brushing his teeth and grabbing a bagel to eat, then went downstairs to wait.

The store he picked was well stocked, if more expensive than the places Jay liked to go. Didn't matter. Frankly, he looked for quality, no matter what it cost. Quickly he picked out the items he needed and returned to the cab. The fare was also steep by the time he'd made the round trip back to home. Didn't matter.

He came in, setting his purchases down and removing his coat. For once, he just tossed it over the back of the couch, then sat down. Now, how was he going to--

Jay walked out of the bedroom.

"Hey," he mumbled, not meeting his eyes. Bob fought back a smile. He nodded once, and watched as Jay walked to the bathroom. He heard showering noises, traditional bathroom noises, and smiled. Better than he'd thought. This might be more fun than he'd planned.

When Jay walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, Bob calmly rose from the couch, following him into the room, carrying his bags. As Jay turned around, realizing he wasn't alone in the room, Bob pushed him down on the bed with one hand, while pulling out the item he'd been holding in his other hand, inside the bag. He grabbed both of Jay's hands, slipping one wrist inside each sheepskin-lined black leather cuff, snapping them shut. He grabbed a scarf--he remembered with a marvelous thrill of irony that an old girlfriend had left it in his room--and tied the cuffs to the headboard.

Jay was flailing and cursing, calling him names he'd never even heard the blond say before, which was impressive. He didn't care. He grabbed one flailing foot, slipping it into another leather cuff and securing it. This one was attached to a long, dark bar, a half-round on a swivel, and by the time he reached for the other foot, Jay was kicking at him and genuinely scared. He missed with every attempt, and Bob finally got the other foot into the cuff and secured.

Then he looked down. Much as he wasn't--normally--a bondage freak, he had to admit the boy looked good. The towel had slipped down onto the floor, leaving him completely naked, water droplets still sparkling on his skin. His pale skin was even paler in comparison with the black leather at ankles and wrists. And there was that touch of fear in his eyes, which was oddly intoxicating.

This could get out of hand, though. He had to move carefully.

"Hey," he said softly.

"FUCKER!" Jay screamed. "What the fuck is your *problem*? I *ever* say to you, ooh, baby, tie me up? Catch a fuckin' *clue*, dude, I don't *want* your faggy ass! What the fuck are you *on*? I oughta--"

"Interesting you bring that up," Bob interrupted.


"What I'm on. What was I on, Jay?" His voice was soft, and calm, but there was an edge underneath the warmth. Jay swallowed, twitching.


Now Jay was squeaking, and his body was trembling. Out of the corner of his eye, though, Bob saw a more compelling sign--Jay's cock twitching. Oh, yeah. He wasn't as outraged as he wanted Bob to believe.

He was scared, though. And that hurt. Still had to move careful. He leaned down, reaching into the second bag.

"Oh, yeah," Jay said hysterically. "About fuckin' time, right? Yeah, go `head, cut me, slice me into little strips and feed me to your big monster plant you gots in the basement, `cause you all offended now I kissed you or some shit--"

Bob put a hand over Jay's mouth, blinking. Sometimes Jay dazzled him with the glimpses of his strange fantasy world. Slowly, knowing he had Jay's absolute attention, he shook his head.

"Not going to cut you, Jay," he said softly. He pulled the item from the bag and watched as Jay's eyes widened.

"What the fuck..."

Bob barely smiled, looking at what he held. He cracked open the plastic, revealing a long and slightly curving jelly vibrator, in a clear swirling teal--the exact shade of Jay's eyes when they weren't blue. He reached down into the bag again, pulling out a large tube of lube and a condom. Those he placed on the bed. He reached into his pocket, however, pulling out a pack of batteries, and slowly filled the compartment inside, tossing the rest of the pack into the bag. He watched Jay's trembling increase as he unrolled the condom over the dildo and began applying lube.

"Hey...Lunchbox...whatchoo gonna do with that, man? You ain't gonna--"

"If I put this...somewhere uncomfortable," he said wryly, "would you object to that?"

"Fuck *yes* I'd object to that, you twisted fuck! You ain't comin' *near*my ass with that--"

"So you wouldn't give me consent."

"Fuck no!"

"Just like I couldn't give you consent for..." He counted, looking up briefly. "Five days."

All the air left Jay's body, and suddenly his eyes were as wide as Sailor Moon's.

"Oh...dude...I..." he gasped weakly.

And Bob smiled, leaning over Jay's right leg.

"So you'll know for next time," he said softly. "Don't drug your roommates." And he pulled the bar up slightly, Jay's legs parting with it, and centered the head of the dildo on the puckered bit of flesh that action revealed.

Jay was still gasping, trying to get out more words, but Bob didn't let him. He pushed the toy inside, inching it in until it was buried in Jay. It seemed to take hours while Jay gasped and flailed and cursed, and fought to get away. All ineffectually; he was tied down, after all.

A little less calmly, Bob reached into the bag once more, bringing out an arrangement of black leather straps. Two went around each of Jay's legs, where the leg merged into the hip. One went around his waist. That centered a little triangle of reinforced leather over the toy, and right before he clasped everything shut, he flicked the toy on. Low setting first.

Jay arched, beginning to moan, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Bob watched his cock grow again, where before it had retreated when he'd slid the toy inside. Hmm. That gave him another idea.

He circled his fingers around Jay's cock, watching as Jay's eyes instantly found his again.

"Difference," he stated crisply, "is that I ask."

Jay bit his lip, staring at him and breathing hard. The muscles in his legs were twitching, and he shuddered with the new sensation.

"Do you want me?" Bob asked.

"Uh...can't...think right now..." Jay gasped.

"Okay, different question. What did you give me?"

"Aw...fuck, dude...can't we...talk about this later?"

Bob reached between Jay's legs, switching the setting to medium.


Bob was impressed. It took fifteen minutes for the boy to break, and switching the setting all the way to high, when the end five inches began to rotate inside him. He'd been screaming, wailing, thrashing his head from side to side on the bed, and only the cock ring that Bob had thoughtfully slipped on five minutes into all this had stopped him from spraying the entire room with come. Still. Fifteen minutes. That's some kind of record.

But now he was screaming the words Bob had been waiting for.

"RoHyp!" he screamed. "Jesus, *God*, don't--don't--oh, God, make it-- *shit!* RoHyp! It's in Moby Dick!"

Bob turned away, scanning the bookshelves. He'd long since learned that there were more real books here than most people would expect, but that some were a front, hollowed out for whatever contraband-of- the-week they couldn't be initially caught with. One of those, he knew, was Moby Dick.

He walked over to the bookshelves, listening to Jay beg behind him.

**Not yet, Jay. Let's see how mad I'm going to be.**

He trailed a finger over the hardbounds. Poe, Shakespeare--the complete edition he'd bought for Jay, which Jay still insisted he read to him in sections--King, all three editions of all three versions of the Dungeons & Dragons basic rulebooks--ah. Melville.

Taking it down from the shelf, he carefully opened it, lifting out a small baggie. Two more tablets. So, one week of amnesiac sex. And had he ever done this before?

No, he didn't think so. The couch dreams he'd only had for the past four days, and last night, he mostly remembered. He must have a sensitivity to the stuff. Thank God, or he'd never have known.

At that, his eyes narrowed, and he snapped the book shut. His hand clenched over the bag as he slid the book back onto the shelf.

"So, when were you planning on telling me?" he asked. That edge was back, and now visible, enough shining steel to wrap every extended thing in the room.

Jay, shuddering on the bed, gasped, trying to inch away from him.

"I don't--I--please, Bob, please please please, don't hate me, don't-- don't--God, please, God, AHH!"

Bob trailed the bit of plastic revealed in his grip over the blond's straining sides, earning more twitches and gasps.

"You thought rape was your best option?"

"NOOO!" Jay wailed, and they were both surprised when a tear slid down his cheek. Instantly Bob reached between Jay's trembling legs, shutting the vibrator off. He unbuckled the straps, easing the toy out of him, and Jay whimpered when he did. He uncuffed his wrists and his ankles and thought for sure Jay was going to punch him somewhere terribly painful. Instead, he surprised Bob again, curling up in his arms, more tears following the first.

"I didn't," he gasped, "it wasn't like that, you always wanted to, an' I, I, I couldn't, I couldn't tell you, an' nen..."

Bob shook his head, tilting the blond's head up.

"Not good enough, Jay. Why? Why would you?"

Jay burrowed into his chest, his own chest hitching now.

"You don't remember. I know you don't, `cause that's how it started. We went to Kyle's, an' someone dosed a drink. It was meant for me, but y'know, I gave you some shit about fruity-ass beers, an' you glared, an' switched drinks with me. An' nen we went home, right after that, an', an', you were on the couch, an' we was watching some fucked-up film you wanted to see, and then you was running your fingers through my hair, an' I thought you were jokin', you know? An' I looked over, an' that's when you kissed me."

Bob blinked. Fuck, this was all news to him. He couldn't even remember the last time they'd been to Kyle's.

"And that was...?" he asked.


Tuesday. Yep, today was Sunday, that was about right. Shit.

"An', an', I didn't do anythin', I just kissed you, and fuck, you kiss good, an' I, I, I wanted you to kiss me again. But I wanted to beat the shit out of Kyle first, `cause the next morning, you didn't remember shit. So I go over ta Kyle's, and take his supply, an' tell him you were lookin' for his ass, an'..."


"An' then I forgot," Jay said miserably. "I, I wanted, and you wanted, and it was all good, an', an', I didn't know how to stop. An', *shit*, man, you *talk* on this shit, you know that? Fuck, we musta talked for hours that first night, just sittin' on the couch, and fuck, I got into that faster than the sex..."

Jay was shivering all over now, little muscle jerks shaking him loose from the confession. Bob counted out ten breaths, waiting.

Jay finally sighed and looked up.

"I figured, I'd run out Kyle's supply, and not get more, you know?"

Oddly enough, he did. What would he have done with a suddenly willing Jay in his arms?

Wait a minute. He had a suddenly willing Jay in his arms. He leaned down, kissing the blond's lips, kissing them gently open, and after a moment of shocked rigidity, Jay relaxed, pressing himself against Bob and pulling him closer.

Then he flailed his hands against Bob's chest, pushing him away.

"Fuck you, man! Back it down, I ain't gone all gay for your ass!"

Bob arched an eyebrow. Jay bit his lips, looking down. Bob waited until he looked up again.

"I remember last night, you know."

Jay's mouth fell open.

"I--well, I know, but...I--I mean--"

"So, you'll suck me, and you'll fuck me, but you aren't gay?"

"Fuck you!" he screamed shrilly. "I ain't a fag!"

"Why not?"

"Fuck if I prove my dad right in *anything*!"

Oh, shit. Of course his total shit of a father would have had problems with his only son in that regard. All that long blond hair and those big blue eyes and that attitude, which Bob knew from personal experience he'd had since birth. Shit. So now, there was *this* roadblock to drive past.

"It ever occurred to you," he asked softly, "that you don't have to be gay?"

Jay looked up, narrowing his eyes.


What was the word... "Be bi. You can have girls on the side," he said.

"I don't..." And the penny dropped. It almost pulled Jay's jaw to the floor when it fell, too.

"Y'mean...I could still have all the pussy I wanted...an' you wouldn't go 'way?"

**Put crudely.** Bob nodded.

For a moment Jay nearly smiled. Then his face fell again.

"But I don't like fag action," he murmured. "Ya proved it again with that fuckin' vibratin' thing."

Bob blinked. "What?"

"I never liked it. Not with that, not with J-Dog in high school, not with my da--" And Jay swallowed the word back, eyes going wide again.

Bob struggled against a sudden urge to maim beyond redemption, and had to appease himself with the thought that Jay's dad was still in prison somewhere, on a five-to-ten for a Quik Stop robbery. Probably getting exactly what he'd doled out in Jay's youth, considering he had the same long blond hair. Still. It somehow wasn't quite enough.

Still. Considering himself, or that one part of himself, there'd never be a better time to see if there was something Jay liked about anal sex. He brought out the lube again, and another condom.

"Maybe you never had the right partner?"

Jay violently shook his head. "Fuck that. I *seen* what you carry around, and fuck that. There ain't no fuckin' way--"

"I love you."

Jay blinked.

"Dude, I am gonna fucking pass out right here, you say that again. C'mere," Jay said, and pulled him down on the bed, thrashing against him as he kissed Bob, hard and savage. When Bob pulled away, he was breathless, and Jay was shivering.

"'kay," he said in a small voice. "Go 'head."

And he lubed up his fingers, leaning beside Jay, kissing him gently. Within moments, Jay was gasping, twitching again, blinking his eyes as he stared at Bob.

"Fuck, man, what're you doin'?"

Bob raised an eyebrow, staring at him, until he realized Jay was serious.

"Lube is very important," he said seriously.

"No," Jay said, shaking his head. He gasped, tossing his head from side to side, when Bob pushed three fingers into him, turning and twisting them, and leaned down to capture one of Jay's nipples in his mouth.

"*That*," Jay gasped. "What you're...doin'...right...*now*!"

A fourth finger joined the others and Jay began whimpering again.

"Does it hurt?" he breathed against Jay's straining skin.

Jay seized his t-shirt, drawing him close.

"You stop I'll tear your throat out," Jay growled. Bob grinned, cocking his head to one side. He rotated his hand, opening Jay up, pushing until the knuckle ridge was nearly inside and Jay was screaming his name.

Then he pulled out, pulling off his tee and wiping off his hand with it. He quickly shed his other clothes while Jay, gasping, tried to recover.

"Fuck," he said, over and over. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

**Excellent idea,** Bob thought, tearing open the condom package and squirting a little lube in the tip before unrolling it over his cock. He squirted more lube into his hands, rubbing it into the latex, and then trailed a pattern over Jay's belly, pulling Jay's eyes to him.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Fuck," he whimpered. But he nodded, and Bob parted his legs, sliding inside.

**Holy. Mother. Of God,** thought Bob. Even after fifteen solid minutes of the toy inside him, and a good ten minutes opening him up, the boy was still tight around him. He was going so slowly he thought glaciers could race past him, and two inches in he knew he wasn't going to make it. Then Jay whimpered and he stopped, instantly.

He looked at what Jay was pointing to and nearly fell down laughing. He fought his way back from giggling and unsnapped the cock ring from Jay's equipment. The sigh of relief could've been heard in New York, and Bob reached down, gently stroking Jay's cock while the blond arched beneath him, moaning. He began pushing inside again, trying to keep it slow, but everything in him wanted to thrust, thrust *now*, thrust *hard*. *Own* Jay. He wanted to--

"Fuck me," Jay moaned.


"Please. Please, fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, Lunchbox, I was so fuckin' wrong...I'll be gay if you want, I'll give up chicks, if this is what it always feels like. Oh, fucking God, want you inside me, want you, need you, fuck, fuck, fuck me--"

His vision blurred as he lifted both of Jay's trembling legs, and thrust inside. Jay screamed, clutching at him, sinking black-painted fingernails into his hips, but that was good too. He threw his head back, breathing hard, and began to thrust, the thrusts picking up speed nearly instantaneously. Jay's hands flew to his cock, moving so fast they seemed to blur, too, and Bob couldn't stop. He'd wanted this, wanted his roommate for a long time, wanted to be in him since, fuck, since high school at least, and he'd never said anything, never done anything about it.

Now Jay was his, and he'd never let him go. Jay's voice pulled at him, urging him forward, bringing him to the edge, bringing him over. He picked up speed, the blond screaming to the world that he was going to come. And Bob thrust once more, trembling in time with Jay's shattered cries, and when Jay came, so did he.

He had the distinct feeling, collapsing afterwards, that the only time they were going to leave this bed for the next few days was to go into the kitchen, or into the bathroom. And that was fine with him. Jay curled up in his arms, nearly purring, and he was out as soon as Jay relaxed.

And the next time he woke up, the only dreams he could remember were of holding Jay in his arms. Just like now.

*and you say, believe it or not, baby
the joy you bring me
still outweighs it*

(Song is excerpted from "Sick of Me" by Ani diFranco)
Kelandris the Mad
so still she sits and is she breathing?

go back
wanna read the next one
tired already

Write me

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