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
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
Series/Sequels: Origin story, no downline. Fer as I know. Followed by "Break
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
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
("Bitch, just write. They fuckin' get it already.")
("Pushy damn figment. I'm getting to it.")
("...") (*poke*) ("*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
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
*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...
**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...
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.
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
**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
*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
*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
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
"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,
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
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."
"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
"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,
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!"
"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
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."
"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
"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
"*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
"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,
**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,
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?