Date: Tue, 3 Mar 2015 11:28:37 -0600
From: Oowatanabe . <ohwantanabe@gmail.com>
Subject: Fuck or Flight Ch.6

Don't read this if you aren't of legal age to view this where you live. It
contains sexually explicit material. All names, places, and events are
entirely fictional, and any similarities to real-life events are entirely
coincidental.

Rights to this story lie exclusively with Nifty and myself. If you wish to
reproduce it in part or in whole, contact me. Do not reproduce otherwise.

Please consider donating to nifty. It's an amazing resource that would be
nearly irreplaceable if we were to lose it. Even a small amount can help.

Wow. After all that I need a shower. So does everyone involved. Hopefully
this chapter I can stop writing sex scenes long enough to move the story
along. Your emails have been appreciated, nice to get to know some of my
audience and I hope to hear more. As I'm writing this I have to say, ignore
all the gay primping scenes, they just came out and I didn't want to delete
them. Also I need to stop using gay as an adjective.

*        *        *

It hurt. I tried to figure out what it was without opening my eyes and
settled on everything. I felt a mess and wiped the sleep out of my eyes to
look around. Doilies, Tiffany lamps and flowery print described the
decor. I hadn't even noticed. Must be where John puts his mother on
visits. If you asked me last night I would have said we were on a small cot
in a dungeon.

Even if I hadn't been taken to the rack, I felt like it. My neck hurt, my
chest hurt, my lips were sore. Worst of all my ass. Thank god he'd pulled
out during the night, I didn't want to be wearing a diaper and give him a
UTI.

Oh, him. Alex. That's whose arms and legs were wrapped around me and put me
in this state. His breathing was even and peaceful. Fucker probably
wouldn't even have a crick in his back. His slightly wavy hair stuck to my
neck

I was struck with a pressing urge to take a bath and eat
breakfast. Fortunately, after a bit of gentle maneuvering, I got free of
his tangled limbs and sat up on the side of the bed, my feet dangling
over. I hated beds this high up, made me feel even shorter.

"Ugh," I said to myself and put my face in my hands," You might as well
just make it to the bathroom."

I didn't bother putting anything on as I staggered to the bathroom. Things
were still slick and torn up back there, I felt like my hips had been taken
apart and moved up a few inches what with all the extra parts that seemed
to slide together.

I decided to spare myself looking in the mirror, forewent the bath and took
a shower. The difference between searing and icy was measured in
micrometers on the knob, so I settled for hot, although it burned my raw
and chapped skin.

I just stood there, under the copious steaming flow. It seemed after a
while the torrent started to wash clean what soap couldn't. I started to
feel like myself again, not a conversationalist or a sex toy, safe behind
familiar semi-pleasant walls of me-ness, cozier than any well apportioned
guest room.

Eventually, soap was applied, although I didn't bother with my hair, I
hoped the color wouldn't fade too quickly. With purple, you didn't know
until a wash or two whether it was going to pink, violet or blue.

Taking pains so that I wasn't taking pain, I gingerly scrubbed everywhere,
even my stinging backside. I stepped out dripping and grabbed what was
probably intended as a decorative towel.

The mirror was mercifully fogged up, and I had the chance to dry off and
compose myself a bit before I wiped the mirror to survey the damage. I was
pink from the shower, but my neck was definitely violet, really bad hickies
pulsed on either side. My nipples and lips were puffy. I turned around and
felt behind of me. Everything seemed to be in place, although you wouldn't
know it by the way it chafed.

"Damn," I muttered to myself. If I didn't get any concealer I'd have to
walk around with scarves for the next few days. Small town Texas society
may be even less accepting of a scarf lifestyle.

I finished up and put on pajama bottoms and an old My Bloody Valentine
t-shirt I'd stolen from my mom. Sneaking back into the guest room I put on
my hoodie so that I could hide my.

Walking out of the restroom I went to scrounge up something to eat. In the
kitchen I got some cereal and milk and sat down cross legged in the back of
the breakfast nook.

"Making yourself at home," I heard John comment.

I looked over and he was walking in, dressed in an undershirt and boxers.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologized," I was hungry and no one was up."

"No problem," He laughed and went over his coffee maker," I doubt you'll
eat me out of house and home. How do you like your coffee?"

"Not at all," I complained with a mouthful of raisin bran," It smells
disgusting"

No one at my house drank coffee; a pot brewing had always been a sign that
it wasn't just my mom and I alone in the trailer. Its taste meant something
worse

"Children," He chuckled," It's not so easy to wake up once you don't have
to catch the bus anymore."

"Haven't ridden that since 6th grade," I protested.

"On to riding other things at that point, were you," He gave me a sly look
and sat down on the outer edge of the breakfast nook.

I blushed and stared into my coffee. Why couldn't I just have sex and not
feel so much shame about it? It was worth in the final calculation, but
once the hormones dispersed, it was worse than the butthurt.

"I'm only teasing you," He said kindly," I do worry about kids starting so
early. Though had I the opportunity, I certainly would have taken it as a
young person."

"Yea, I'm sure Reconstruction wasn't the best time to grow up," I said as
much childlike enthusiasm as I could muster.

"Ouch, you have teeth," He said good naturedly after I admonished him,"
Hopefully I'll be able to Redeem myself."

That got a smile out of me. It wasn't often I talked with someone on my
level. I had occasionally wished that some teachers would have more time
just to chat. Or that I had a computer, sometimes I felt starved.

"Though it looks like Alex isn't exactly toothless, himself," He commented
on what he could see through my bunched up hoodie.

I felt lectured at and covered my neck up with an arm. "I can handle
myself," I objected.

"You may think you know a lot, and maybe you do, too much even," He said,
hunching over his coffee and lowering his voice," But I've known Alex a
long time, both he and his Dad are like family, and there's good in both of
them. But I've done some awful things in my life, and seen Marco do the
same, but I never enjoyed it the way he did. And other than being a little
lighter skinned, Alejandro is his father's boy. I find myself wishing his
mother never left, but I don't blame her for a second."

"He told me she was dead," I whispered.

"She might be," He shrugged," but she left first. I think he might
understand why she went, but he'll never forgive her for not taking him
with her, or contacting him in some way. Although he'll never admit that
first part. Marco and Alex are like this," He held two fingers up
together," Guess it's how he made it."

It was a lot to absorb. I descended into bitter platitude." It's tough all
over," I said. It sounded inappropriate to the situation even as it left my
lips.

He gave me a strange look I hoped wasn't pity," I can believe that. Doesn't
have to be though."

That's something I could never believe. Some people just had the resources,
mentally, financially and emotionally to be happy, complete, people. Those
without would scrape and tear ourselves into some kind of niche, hoping not
to get crushed. Things weren't always as grim as all that, but I did feel
awfully squeezed.

"I think I'll wait til your guy is up to make breakfast," He said,
lightening the tone of conversation," You like eggs, toast and bacon?"

"I'm pretty full from the cereal," I said, pushing my bowl out and making
moves to go and wash it," And I don't know if he's my guy."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it,"obviously not meaning both things as he
said picking up the bowl and walking back to the kitchen," I needed another
cup anyway. Can I get you anything, juice, water of any kind?"

"Ice water would be fine," I called to him as I settled back in.

He came back, and we talked some more, less heavy stuff. I scoffed at his
smooth jazz collection. He mentioned he was a retired Dupont salesman,
going around to all the plants that dotted the gulf coast. I told him I was
a junior. When he asked how school was going he laughed at the gagging
noises I made in reply.

The day was almost beginning and John had just said that he might not wait
up before cooking, when Alex made an appearance.

He ambled stiffly over, his wavy hair in a mess, rubbing his eyes. He was
walking in from the guest room, he'd put on a t-shirt and some sweatpants
that didn't do much to hide his junk flopping around in them.

"You didn't wake me up," he grumbled as he sat down and scooted next to me.

"I thought you wouldn't want me too," I said apologetically. I didn't mean
it. I needed the alone time.

"Mmmm," Alex growled, leaning over and putting his head on my
shoulder. Obviously he wasn't a morning person.

"Good morning to you too Alex," John said," Want something hot for
breakfast?"

"I told you when I was 15," Alex replied," you aren't my type."

"All lies," John laughed as he got up and went to prepare the meal," You
were an awfully confused teenager, I could have had you, though."

Alex snorted and leaned back and against me, I had to brace myself to keep
from being pushed over.

I felt like a bit of an outsider, a historian observing a pair of primary
sources long after the fact. I couldn't claim much objectivity though.

With John occupied, I became the object of attention. Alex nuzzled at me
and brought his arms around. He reached over at my neck and pulled my hood
down. He paused at what he saw.

"Fuck," he exclaimed quietly, lightly tracing the purple bruises, causing
tingles of pain to shoot down my spine," Do these hurt?"

He hadn't asked out of medical curiosity or concern, he was
fascinated. Even had he remained silent, the growing at his crotch spoke
volumes. It was just him, but to be put on display for such an audience
made my skin crawl and scratched a exhibitionist itch I didn't know I had.

"A bit," I admitted in his ear, egging him on," My ass hurts worse."

He grinned and kissed me, and seemed almost proud of his work as he said,"
I bet."

Things seemed almost placid, domestic, as we ate. I wouldn't say he was
clingy, but calmly possessive was how Alex treated me. An arm around me, a
maple syrupy kiss, a hand down my thigh. Didn't mind me leaning against him
while he ate. It was nice.

PDA in front of other people, especially adults, took some getting used
to. Remember, this was the very year Lawrence V. Texas had been handed
down. A few years later plenty of people were out, but while I may have had
a bit of a reputation, it wasn't something I easily talked about.

John didn't seem bothered. He liked having young people in his house, it
was nostalgic in a way for him, he said. I wasn't used to benevolence from
authority figures. Weird that I thought of everyone in those terms. Neglect
or hurt, succor for any of my needs was wrapped up somewhere between those
two. It was so messy inside my head.

"I'm going to take a shower," Alex blurted out, looking a bit antsy," I'll
have to get going and drop you off soon."

"Alright," I said, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I had
hoped for a bit more time.

"Don't start," He warned, but then more kindly," I'd ask you to join me,
but it smells like you already washed up."

"If it's too much trouble, I can take him home," John interjected.

"No," Alex growled, then looked a bit abashed as he changed his tone
again," Thanks, sorry, but I'll do it John."

I was glad, while I liked talking to John, Alex was my focus. Plus I had a
pretty good idea what Alex wanted from me. Even if he was grouchy in the
morning.

I really felt like packing up and waiting while Alex was gone so I excused
myself and went to the guest room again. After just a night, there wasn't
much to do. I considered getting dressed, but getting undressed was more
attractive. I stripped down to my briefs and climbed on the bed.

The sheets were a little gross, but I couldn't help but smell them. Maybe
my own scent was on there, but that's the kind of thing you don't
notice. There was Alex, and I relieved several square inches of fabric of
its odor drawing it into me.

I heard the bathroom door open, but he didn't come in. I bunched up the
coverings and sat against the headboard to wait.

"Thought I told you we were leaving," I heard Alex say as burst into the
room, smelling like Marlboros.

"Why are you so pissy," I complained," I was cold."

I could see him winding up, then drawing down. He dropped his towel on the
floor and got in beside me.

"Cold," he muttered, pulling off enough of my covers to make room for
himself. He was damp and cool from the outside air," Then put some clothes
on."

I didn't bother to argue and just leaned against him on the headboard.

He sighed, but relaxed and kissed my cheek.

"I don't make it here that often," He said," No reason to."

"Not even now?" I asked, preparing myself to be rejected.

"Well, maybe now," He admitted and put his arm around me. Preperation for
one eventuality made me vulnerable to the other. I had to think of grim
things like my chances at getting into a good college to keep from
swooning.

The things I felt around him made me fight a battle within myself. As any
superhero knows, a huge dam bursting required an equally large landslide,
but when it's all happening in my valley, I have to wonder if it's not
better to be drowned. I was Elvis, shooting at the TV to turn it off, then
staring into the empty chasm of broken glass and busted wires.

Someone once said I should learn to be easy with myself.

I thought," Why bother, no one else is."

It was easy to rest against his shoulder though.

Things were getting a bit mushy. In situations like this there is such a
thing as saying too much, going too fast. To stave it off I slipped under
the covers and crawled between his legs.

"Damn you're a little cockhound," He commented, faceless but stiffening
between my lips and reaching at my head through the sheets.

I hum around him in assent. He manages to taste like sex even after a
shower. There's muskiness that whatever body wash he used doesn't wash
off. I have a thought that if I get enough of him in me, I'd start to taste
like that too, that his obviously more vigorous pheromones will override my
own and I'll be a colony for his scent.

Deep in thought and slurping his now hard column down my throat, I would
have smiled if I could. His hands were gripping at me and I could hear his
low gasps. I've always been a good multitasker.

Not good enough to notice his coming, though. He let me know by forcing my
head down and my throat open as he strained and then released. I tried to
keep it all in but gravity wasn't on my side; some of his thick stuff got
through the seal of my lips at his base and slid down my chin, neck and
chest.

With Alex there was always that moment where I didn't know if it'd ever let
up, that I might be found suffocated, blue and around his cock, my murder
weapon. The sheets bunched around my head added an extra layer of
claustrophobia, but I could see the now midday cold light faintly through
the sheets.

I think it was just to see the mess he'd made when he threw off the covers
and let off the pressure. His cock came out of me, pulling an umbilical
cord of drool and semen out of my mouth. I followed it as it fell, and
sucked the rest of it off. It wasn't a cord I wanted cut just yet.

I got my fill of whatever it was I got out of sucking cock and parted my
hair so I could look at him again. I wasn't seeking approval. I had pretty
good evidence of that sliding it's way down my stomach. I just wanted to
look, in a real way, before we spent the last few minutes of our time
together in anticlimactic goodbyes.