Date: Wed, 9 Jan 2013 03:37:05 -0500 (EST) From: Erik Pruett <erik.pruett@aol.com> Subject: Please Don't Go (8) - Young Friends The regular warnings apply. Don't read this if it offends you, or if it's illegal to do so. So, I've been knocking these chapters out rapid fire lately. I figure that way when I fall behind from school work, I'll at least have a good number of chapters out for people to read. In other news, a lot of people have been asking, so I figure I'll put it out there that I am actually available to do most any sort of commissioned writing one might ask of me, should anybody be interested. From school papers to stories to really anything else. These days all I have is time to myself, and there have been requests, so I figure I might as well put it out there as a possibility for anyone interested. If you have something in mind, get at me via email and we'll work out the details. =] Anyway, that little shameless insert not withstanding, on to the story. It's a little embarrassing writing this sort of stuff, especially because this is an autobiographical story, but c'est la vie. Enjoy, enjoy! --- The time on my alarm clock says 11:00 PM, but at the moment the entire concept of time seems to me inexplicably out of sync with itself. Sasha and I are in my room, the door closed and locked, the front door to the house bolted as well. We're blasting Pearl Jam CD's from my stereo, playing Super Smash Brothers Melee on my little TV with the lights off. The cheap ten dollar strobe light I bought forever ago at Spencers is going off in the corner, but I can't remember when or why we turned it on. And the two of us are giggly and gin-seduced, or rather, vodka-seduced. "You suck so much at this game!", Sash shouts at me, immediately bursting into a fit of laughter. It's true; he's kicking my ass. For reasons unknown, Sasha has a sixth sense for Super Smash. In the years we've known eachother, I've never seen him even come close to losing. He could play with his eyes closed and win. I thought I might have a shot on account of his drunkeness. I was wrong. "Only 'cus I can't see straight!", I shout back over the music. He starts laughing harder, and accidently let's his character die. "God damn it!", he yells. Now I'm in hysterics. I'm sitting on the ground leaning against my bed, which Sash is lying across. The room feels like it's spinning around me in a way I can't explain, my sight seems skewed by clear at the same time, and I'm wondering how that's possible. By my side is an empty bottle of Grey Goose, a bottle that'd been three quarters full when we'd gotten our hands on it. "Damn it!", I groan, when he kills my character's last life and the round ends. He drops his controller and giggles, before accidentally tumbling off the bed onto the floor beside me. "I'm so dizzyyyyy", he chirps in a childish tone. "You're so druuuunk", I tease back. "Whose fault is thaaaaat", he sings, a goofy smile plastered across his face. He tries to get up, but before he's even all the way on his feet, he slips and collapses head-first into my lap. At this point in the evening, neither one of us is wearing pants, and the warmth of his breath on my groin immediately starts to ellicit a response in my loins. He puts his hands on my shoulders, I put mine in the crooks between his arms and chest, and together we start to pull him up a bit. Unfortunately, we're both pretty sloshed, and he ends up just falling onto my chest. "Someone's getting excited", he half-whispers, his voice somewhere between teasing and lustful. It makes me shiver a little. My boxers are totally tented. Sash is just a few inches from my face, still leaning on me, so close I can taste the alcohol on his breath. And I know this whole scenario is fucked. I should be doing this with Veronica! My girlfriend! The one that's been trying to get me intimate with her like this for months, but as hard as I try, I can't get my brain to focus on her long enough even to imagine her face in my head. Because all I can see, all I can taste or smell or hear, is Sasha. I realize my will power is failing, and when it does, it fails hard. Suddenly my inhibitions are gone. "Sasha", I whisper, the name coming off my tongue in a husky tone. His brain barely has time to register what I've said before I'm on him. It happens in a flash. All of a sudden, one of my arms is wrapped around the small of his back, pulling him in close. The other slips into his hair, and I pull him into a kiss. His lips pressed against mine, he manages a small yelp of surprise, but it melts into a satisfied moan as he sinks into my kiss. His thin arms wrapped around my neck, he's kissing me back, our tongues are in eachothers' mouths, our bodies are pressed together. He's tight up against me, and I can feel his erection pressed up against my abs the same way mine is right against his ass. The heat between us is incredible. "Oh gosh, Jaime--", he says breathlessly as he pulls away, but I push my mouth back against his and cut him off with another kiss. Far away, a tiny voice is telling me that this is wrong, that I'm drunk and this is all a huge mistake. But right now, every second is it's own world entirely, and I can't even begin to fathom even the concept of consequence. He's on his back now, and I'm on top of him. My arms pin his to the floor, and I'm grinding my pelvis against his as he squirms and writhes beneath me. The sounds coming out of him are driving me to a whole new state of mind, some primal place I've never been before. In the blink of an eye I lose my shirt, and a second later I rip the tank top right off of him. We reconverge, kissing with our bare skin pressed together, and it's better than anything I've ever experienced before. We're rolling around on the floor, a tangle of tanned limbs and teenage love-making, and without thinking I pin him down again, and one of my hands snakes down between his legs and rubs his erection through his tight underwear. Immediately, a jolt goes through his whole body, and he moans loudly. "Jaime, oh, wait--", he slurs, but I can't hear him. I can't even comprehend words; my body is moving without my brains commands, and it's as terrifying as it is exciting. I grab the waistband of his underwear, and in one fluid motion I pull them right off his body. He yelps. Lying their before me, bronze and hairless and full-aroused, Sasha looks more intoxicating and appealing than anything I've ever seen. And suddenly, my boxers are cast somewhere across the room. Sash's eyes go wide. "Oh my gosh", he whispers. "God, you're beautiful", I reply. His eyes are as wide as they are bright, and I see mine reflected in them, cloudy and lustful and full of a hunger I'm way past denying. This is the moment I've been avoiding for years, I realize. The moment I've tried my best to resist. The moment I've been silently craving. "God Sasha, you are so fucking beautiful", I repeat, and his lips shake just a little. He looks so fragile, like some precious porceline figure left over from Ancient Greece, he carries himself with that sort of effortless grace. I've got to have him. "J-Jaime... are you, are you s-sure", he mumbles, looking up at me. I feel a drop of precum leak of me and slide down the length of my shaft, and nothing need be said. "I want you now", I sigh. And then I'm on him. Our bodies press together again, and my tongue is dancing across his. The sensation of skin against skin, it's electrifying, and it only gets more intense when I wrap my hand around his dick. The sound he makes when I slowly start to pump my fist up and down, it's amazing it I don't cum then and there. I feel him wrap his own hand around me, and it's like an electric shock. Bodies still up against one another, we start jerking eachother. "Oh God, oh Sash, yes... jerk me off", I'm moaning as his hand works up and down my shaft. The feeling of his hand urging me on, the softness of his skin and the heat, it's incredible, and he seems to be enjoying my hand on him just as much. "Jaime, ahhh... so good...", the words slip from his lips in between moans, in between kisses. Our hands start moving faster, our grips get a firmer. We're both moaning too much to make out, but still I'm kissing his neck, gently nibbling along the side of it, feeling the warmth of his breath as he pants and groans into my ear. My other hand is in his hair, and his is on my back, clinging to me with an iron grip. "So close, oh Jaime...", he moans, his voice higher pitch than before. "God, me too.. oh God, so fucking good." He's writhing against me, practically thrusting into my hand, but still he never stops pumping my dick. I can feel the pressure rising in me, feel my stomach tightening, and I know it won't be long. He lets out a high moan, incredibly sexy, and finally it puts me over the edge. "Sasha!", I manage to shout, and then my dick explodes. I blow load after load of cum into the space between us, splatter all over both of our chests, sounds coming out of my mouth that I've never made before. "Don't stop!", he shouts, and I only pump him harder. A moment later he cries out in ecstacy, and his dick erupts in my hand, further coating us with white stickiness. And then just as quickly as it began, it's over, and the two of us collapse in the sweetness of our mutual afterglow. --- The stereo has long since finished playing my Pearl Jam CD. The strobe light in the corner is still flashing, and somewhere along the periphery of my consciousness I'm aware of the fact that the Super Smash Brothers music is still droning on, but I can't hear it. I can't hear anything, save for the sound of Sasha's gentle, rhythmic breathing. We haven't moved since the two of us finished. After we both blew our loads, he kissed me hard on the lips, his shoulders still bobbing up and down breathlessly and his face still flushed red. Then the two of us collapsed, him laying on top of me, his head resting at the top of my chest in the space between my neck and shoulder. He'd said in a soft voice, that he could hear my heart beat. And then, barely above a whisper, that he loved me. And then he'd fallen asleep. My eyes are moist from the tears I couldn't hold back after he'd spoken those words. I've heard him tell me that a few times before, but until tonight I've never really felt it. But after seeing the look in those crystal blue eyes, after feeling the intensity and the passion behind them, I feel it now more acutely than anything I've ever felt before. And I'm crying. Not hard, and certainly not from sadness. But there are tears in my eyes from all the emotions swirling around in my brain, and I won't move my hands to wipe them away, because then I'd have to stop gently stroking Sasha's back. I have no idea how long the two of us have been laying like this. Probably hours. I have no idea how much longer it'll be until my parents get home, until we'll be forced to finally get up and put clothes on and resume our parts as the two ordinary boys we've always seemed, but I don't care. Lying here on the floor, Sasha on top of me, the product of our first love-making experience splattered between us still; not even Heaven could be this perfect. He stirs just a little, makes a soft sighing sound, and resumes his gentle breaths. I raise my head just a bit off the ground, so my nose is in his hair breathing in that sweet strawberry scent, and whisper the words that up until now I've been too afraid to say. "Sasha, I love you. I love you so, so much." And then I lay my head back down, stare up at the ceiling, and feel the kind of unadulterated bliss that I never thought I'd get to experience.